As I was sitting on a bench in Central Park the other day, I overheard a guy in his early twenties tell a friend that he "loved vaginas" and that they're his "favorite part of a woman." What he said made me smile - not because it was particularly funny, but because I remember telling a friend the exact same thing when I was that age.
Back in my twenties, I suppose the vagina was my favorite part of a woman. It didn't really matter whose body the vagina in question was attached to. As I've grown older, slightly wiser, and more discriminating, I'm less inclined to plug any hole that's offered me. I still do very much like vaginas, but they're no longer my favorite part of a woman.
My favorite part is now the part of a woman that makes her sweet and kind and funny and cool and smart; the part that stops her from whining about every thing and everyone that she hates, and tells me to stop when I whine about the same things; the part that lets me be me without trying to mold me into someone she thinks she wants to be with; the part that's independent and doesn't need some guy to complete her; the part that picks up the check once in a while; the part that doesn't play by rules written by bitter, damaged women; the part that doesn't think it owns the truth no matter the subject; the part that doesn't need a four-carat diamond to make her happy; the part that gets my sophomoric, sarcastic humor; the part that makes me smile when I see her and disappointed when I know I won't.
So I've gone from being a 20 year old kid who really likes pussy to being a 38 year old man that sounds like one. But I don't care. That's what I want.