NABLOPOMO - Day 12 - the hush-hush well of secrets, firemen secrets

One of my favorite bloggers, Oh the Joys, has a thing for Park Rangers. As well she should. I, on the other hand, have a THANG for firemen. Apparently everyone does. Women, children, men, women, women, and did I say...women? How is it that firemen are so damn good looking, wide-shouldered and irresistible? At times it seems just ...unreasonable. Well, only that every single one appears to be all of the above. Just what is it? What divine intervention has created this delectable vision of manhood?

Take this morning. I was treating myself to an iced mocha after I dropped the kids off at daycare and before I sat down here to do my barn storming/job hunt. Hopefully a less bizarre chore than last week's foray. As I waited for my mocha, a fireman walked in. Uniform crisp. Impossible hair thick enough to run your whole arm through for God's sake. And so...polite. I had to truly bite my lip from asking him, "I promise I'm not coming on to you, I'm happily married, but why DO you think it IS that you firemen are all SO fine?" I was THAT close. I should have. And he was even sexy walking away! Walking. Away. Now, I'm kicking myself that I didn't ask him. Not just that I can always use a boost after dealing with two 3 year olds first thing in the morning, well, there's that. But, maybe, just maybe I might have tapped into the hush-hush well of secrets, firemen secrets. And he would reveal the answer to this very important question of too hot for me, firemen. I mean, it is really just unbelievable to have this many hotties under one local station roof. And they have hoses for God's sake and slide down poles. My how the imagination can wander.

So, I'm lame. I admit it. I could have asked the question millions, probably gazillions of women ask every day, Why is it that firemen are so drop dead gorgeous? I would have had the jewel in the crown. The piece de resistance au firemen. The nolo contendere. But, maybe this is an answer that is better left unknown. I mean, it would cut down substantially on my fantasy life if I knew the denouement. How much deliciousness to just let that one slide... off the radar. All I know is that around a fireman, suddenly Mae West inhabits me, my shoulders slink back, my hand comes to rest on a lush hip, my eyebrow arches and .... Honey, you can climb MY ladder anytime... floats unspoken, hanging in the air.

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