"Arms ... Arms ..."

Looking over my friend Kurt's blog, I found a photo of him in a tanktop and was reminded of something stupid that I do when I'm out with Kacoon. Seeing any guy with decently or moderately defined arms, I immediately become rapt, cooing, "Arms ... arms ..." until Kacoon is forced to either confirm or deny the presence of decent arms.

I myself have terrible arms. Because of cerebral palsy, the left one doesn't straighten completely and will never grow at the same rate as the right one. It's not completely atrophied, but there is a noticeable difference. I have the smallest left wrist you'll ever see on a guy.

I was out with Marley a couple weeks ago. We were browsing in a bookstore after a screening of "Hidalgo," and I looked over at a guy in shortsleeves putting away books.

"Arms ...," I said to Marley. "Arms ..."

Marley looked in the direction I was looking, thinking I'd seen a book on the shelf. After a moment, she realized what I was actually looking at. And she refuted my claim. The guy had unimpressive arms, she said. She was probably right. I define good arms as "arms that are better than mine," which means that everyone qualifies, except when I'm on a workout kick - which does happen.

When I was dating Welsh Guy back in 1996, he told me that he and his "blokes back at Uni" would walk around and check out guys together. Seeing one they liked, one would look at the guy and nonchalantly say, "Actually ...," just out of nowhere.

My statement of "Arms ... Arms ..." makes Kacoon laugh. She says I notice it about the most random people.

I think that eventually someone will notice what I'm doing and punch me with their well-defined arms, but I hope that doesn't happen. (I always assume that I've had my last fistfight already.)

Perhaps I should go back to saying "Actually ...," which I did do for a while after Welsh Guy left, but my phrase alerts my friends at what I'm looking at. I'm not looking at a guy's face. Just his arms.