Regalia mania

Men in uniform:

You are mythical beings to me. As with many things that I am passionate about, I can hardly muster the words to describe the ardent desire and love I have for such men. I can honestly say, and my guy friends can vouch for it, that I turn in to a giddy giggly shy little schoolgirl on encountering a soldier/fireman/sailor/any man in a uniform. A rabble of butterflies magically form in my stomach, my heart skips a few too many beats than is physically possible and my whole world gets a little fluffy around the edges. Not to mention how beads of transpiration form on the palms of my hands – which normally only happens when I’m severely petrified – finally, I lose all control of coherent speech. To say that I turned into poor Bertie from The King’s Speech would not be an exaggeration.

The sheer power a man in military get up can have over me is outstanding. Why? It must be the authoritative figure I am attracted to: I need a man to be a manly man. They must of course be sensitive under all that testosterone. I don’t think this is too much to ask, but on second thoughts, perhaps so. One would assume I have had many more relationships other than platonic with these men in their lavish attire, but surprisingly, despite my passion for them, I never have.

“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” – Bible, John 15:13

I have friends who serve in the English army; I have been invited to many of their soldier-infested soirées - so wondrously decked out in military paraphernalia, but I have never found the courage to attend them. I fear that I probably wouldn’t make it through the front gate without fainting from utter excitement. Even in films I am affected. - I can hardly contain myself when watching the Colosseum scene in Gladiator when Russell Crowe reveals himself to Joaquin Phoenix. With that in mind, my Christmas was made outrageously jolly when a member of the Royal Scots Dragoon Guards came for mulled wine by the fireplace.

“A woman knows the face of a man she loves like a sailor knows the open sea” - Honore de Balzac.

Well, what if the man she loves is in fact a sailor? Does this mean she also has to become a skilled mariner to figure out his status? Popular lore holds that a sailor has a woman in every port. Is this true? Most likely.

Fleet week. I thought I had died and gone to heaven when I stepped out of my flat to a sea of sailors parading the streets. I. COULD. HARDLY. BREATHE. Thousands of real life Popeyes had disembarked from their ships practically onto my doorstep. I can’t exactly recall the rest of the week - I was too much of a nervous wreck to put the pieces of my sanity together. It did however involve hunting these beautiful creatures, and I must take a moment to thank my dear friend who indulged my obsession during his visit: “Can we go up the Empire State Building this afternoon?” To which he was informed that Times Square would be easier and far more appropriate to spot sailors.

“All men are created equal, then a few become firemen”.

Most girls get highly offended by the crass way a fireman winks at womankind. I, on the other hand, feel a great triumph in being whistled or winked at by these rugged individuals. Maybe it’s because they save lives from fires that they are all so steamy, hot and sexy to me.

Now as I come to the end of publishing my fascination, I must point out that a uniform does not strictly have to be a sailor outfit, a fireman’s suit, or any military regalia. A man in black tie is equally vulnerable to my fixation.