One hot tamale

Pop psychology pins attraction down to observables like the ability for a dude to hunt the deer or for a chick to churn out babies. Remember the manly man ? I don't want to be him anymore, fun as it might be being a latin stallion. J-Lo's hips don't make her my favorite and I don't need another ounce of testosterone in this body. The manly man dream is over because, post-myfantasticweekend this bloggin metrosexual has been awakened to the scent of hot salsa.

Last weekend I met someone with such strong spirit that she exists in realms where I'd worry that my own substance would seep through its insecurities. A champion for living. Have my assurance that there are few feelings as fantastic as admiring such a person from right under her fingernails.

And when you're under her fingernails, you just might find a connection. The type that's made when two people really recognize each other - and the planet is just a little more intimate after that.

I had an awesome weekend. I admired. I connected. I even learnt to Salsa.