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The Bad Boy - Nicole
Beland
Here's my secret: I have a Tobey Maguire-
Keith Richards complex. Most women do. In a
nutshell: Good guys are boring and bad boys
aren't worth the trouble. My boyfriend John
falls somewhere in the middle, and that's why
he's hotter than any guy I've ever met.
Back when John was just my guitar teacher, he
kept his strong opinions and sexual energy under
wraps. All I saw was his patient, nurturing
side.
He absorbed my nervousness and embarrassment
like a sponge, and gave back gentle
encouragement and soft-spoken instructions. He
was obviously hot and talented, but his Tobey
demeanor had me convinced that he was a shy
loner. Not ideal, but enough to make me call him
one day last August and ask him out for a beer.
Over six or seven dates, I discovered that this
quiet, unassuming musician was harboring a lot
of Keith. He'd dated exceptionally gorgeous,
interesting women and had a cast of engaging
friends, including a midget drummer and a guy
named Scum who'd lived in his laundry room in
the late '90s. John had performed at New York's
most legendary rock clubs. In addition to being
a sweetheart, it turned out, Johnny was, and
still is, a badass.
What makes this duality so sexy is it allows him
to play all the roles of an ideal boyfriend. He
understands the line between spontaneity and
unreliability, playfulness and childishness.
He'll praise the finer points of Grand Theft
Auto III and a Bill Evans piano solo in a single
breath. Man, that turns me on. He can also work
knots out of my long hair, make delicious
marinara sauce, call me on it when I'm being
unreasonable, and talk about emotions without
acting like he's doing me a favor.
But the sexiest thing about John: He doesn't
spread himself too thin, do things halfway, or
reveal his private self to just anyone. When he
does decide to tackle a project or open up to
someone, it's with high intensity and rare
loyalty. One morning I watched him decorate a
birthday cake for his 4-year-old niece. As he
began to frost a #1 on Thomas the Tank Engine, I
could tell that the rest of the world had faded
away. When he's focused on me, I feel as if I'm
getting 500 percent of his attention. He doesn't
play games or hold back when he feels like
grabbing me and carrying me to bed. His passion
is directed carefully but expressed with
abandon--it's so damn sexy I can't imagine ever
getting enough.
By: Nicole Beland
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