fellinibird

After that, determined to change my dating luck, I tried looking for women outside of my Hollywood circle--at the gym, at the grocery story, even at the library. That's where I met Kara. Kara was a novelist from New York who looked lean and fit and, best of all, completely real, in jeans and a T-shirt. When I thought about getting my hands on her au naturel parts, my mind reeled. During our second make-out session, she stopped me as my hands slipped under her shirt. "Don't get too excited," she joked. "They're awful." Were they? Well, one was noticeably larger than the other, and they didn't look like breasts I was used to seeing on lingerie billboards, but I loved that they were hers. Kara turned out to be one of the great loves of my life. We dated long distance until the lack of regular contact drove us apart. Sometimes I think I'm still not over her.

In fact Kara (and her gorgeously imperfect body) helped me figure out that dating women who'd been under the knife would probably never feel right to me. There are a thousand enhanced goddesses out there who will one day make other men very happy. I know those women are worth dating, and I've fallen in love with a handful of them myself. But I'm pretty sure that the woman for me will deal with her physical peccadilloes with humor and self-acceptance, not surgery.

This is the part I think women don't understand. When a guy falls in love, his lover's body parts become bewitching. I'm not going to tell you that our heads don't turn when we see a stacked blond walking down the street. But when we fall for you--really, really fall for you--you hijack our sense of beautiful. What's sexy to us? You--in the "before" picture.