Annie used to look like this:
And now “Annie” is no longer Annie. The new name for the androgynous CPR simulator is Pat, or Mr. Clean, whichever you prefer.
I prefer Mr. Clean.
This new CPR doll can appear a little disturbing to most people. However, I was entirely too turned on by it.
Intentional shaving of the noggin can make the ugliest of men completely and utterly foxy to me. I’m good with a hairy back and untrimmed manly area, but if a guy’s head is smooth and unadulterated, I get that 50 Shades of Grey feeling.
You full-head-of-hair single guys out there who are thinking: “Dammit. I don’t stand a chance now with this Hot Aryan MILF,” you’re wrong. Please find me on Match.com, if you dare. That is, if I ever renew my membership. If you can keep yourself from typing “your” instead of “you’re” or “they’re” instead of “their”, then I may reconsider.
But seriously, there’s just something about a guy who embraces his non hair-plugged self. It says: “I am confident with who I am. So much so, that when I first noticed that thinning spot near my temples and soft-spot, I wouldn’t ever think a 7 inch combover piece could hide it. I shaved that shit off, pronto.”
Side note: For those bald guy friends of mine who are in a happy relationship, I wouldn’t dare go past the thought that you are handsome. I draw the line at my friends. You are taken. Girlfriends or wives of baldies, you are safe from my prowling. Don’t fret.
Everyone has their fettishes. Mine is a shiny and shaved skull. I would go so far as to say that when I see a guy (even if he has a full head of hair), I don’t look at the size of his feet or hands and make anatomical assumptions. I picture him bald and think that possibly I could change him.
And so when I walked into my required CPR Certification class for my future Masters degree, I was not mentally or sexually prepared to see 10 hot bald guys lying there on the floor in a pile, waiting for me to accost them. I had only prepared myself to get comfortable with the fact that I would be making out for four hours with a lesbian torso named Annie.
Life can take a turn drastically and cause you to do a double-take at the most unexpected times.
Kind of like the time when I jokingly said six years ago to my then husband, after he proclaimed he wouldn’t dare cheat on me with another woman: “What are you, then? Gay or something?”
He shockingly said: “So, you knew this whole time?”
Uh, excuse me? Wait. I was only kidding, yo.
Now, six years later, I get to explore my preferrences. I embrace my circumstance instead of getting bitter about it. It took awhile to get there. I tried manipulating Devon for a year and a half into making our marriage work despite his preference for guys. I used religious jargon against him and tried guilt trips using our three beautiful children to get him to change his “choice” of his now-husband over me.
It didn’t work, obviously. Finally, six years later, I am at peace with my situation and I love both Devon and his husband. Our amicable divorce was a big starting point for getting me to a place of love and acceptance of Devon and my single status.
So watch out, Mr. Clean. I have had a crush on you since before Devon’s Big Reveal, and this isn’t a choice. It’s a part of who I am at my core. While I haven’t found the live version of you yet, I will continue to take CPR classes so I can make out with you under the guise of saving your life. A girl’s got needs, and I’ll get it where I can, even if you don’t have legs that wrap around me, eyelashes, eyebrows or an intellect that can challenge my thinking.
You are out there, Bald Soul Mate. I just know it. I won’t give up. I have so much to give, including my razor for your receding hairline.
Blessings and Baldness,