Oh Brawny man.
How often I dwell on your visage when I am ill, for in those moments (when I am reduced to a squalling, susceptible little mess) I realize that you would be the ideal remedy. You are precisely what every woman wants in a state of vulnerability- the perfect combination of sex appeal, masculinity, unpretentious rusticity and underlying, nurturing loveliness. It is written all over your expertly rendered face.
Brawny Man is that same combination of country and pretty that has somehow managed to sustain Alabama's population for the past century.
The sort of aura that screams "Yes, I will be seducing you in the bed of my pickup, but I have 1000 thread count sheets under the passenger seat for the occasion.".
The sort of man who can rock a denim button down without irony or an overwrought mustache.
This man serves you opossum, but you can't bring yourself to object because he braised it. With a demi glace.
Brawny Man shuns popular conventions and wears his blue collar status like a badge of honor, and it is deeply, DEEPLY attractive.
Not only is he attractive, but with a masculinity that rivals that of Chuck Norris dismantling a fortress brick by brick to get at a supply of beef jerky, he is HOT.
Scrutinize every feature, and you won't find a single one that doesn't ooze masculinity.
Between the strong jaw, good teeth, prominent zygomatic arch, and thick neck, I have run out of pearls to clutch. All of them have been crushed into a fine powder at his undoubtedly (yet unseen) masculine feet.
Even with the rest of his body left to imagination, this disembodied head has more testosterone than Nick Offerman's jock strap.
Brawny Man doesn't just eat his steak raw. He slaughters the cow himself, butchers it, takes a break to check the Rangers score, and then grills it while swinging kettle bells.
At the same token, Brawny Man is a gentle man.
The feathered hair, pushed ever so slightly off to the side, is a distinctly different shade than his eyebrows. Perhaps he dyes, perhaps he is self-conscious. Perhaps behind that swagger, that toothy mug, is the merest hint of self doubt.
This is a man who cuts down trees by day, but thinks about the chipmunks they may have housed by night.
He watches UFC fights with his friends, but hides from him his secret love of The Pioneer Woman.
His very image is dependent on his masculinity, so he works to maintain it. Hence, Brawny Man knows what it is to feel vulnerable and inadequate. You never need fear feeling exposed before Brawny Man- he knows, he understands, and he is there to listen.
He could be a 70s porn teacher. He could be an average Minnesotan. He could be my middle school shop teacher in the early 80s, when presumably he used to be hot.
Regardless of his true identity, his true origins, we about to panty drop salute you, Brawny Man.
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