It’s a picture of him. Smiling on his sofa on a hot day and..and… he’s shirtless.

Hello Ladies...

Backlit by the light flowing in through the living room windows. Ab muscles. Like looking at the cover of a Myoplex box full of protein powder. Rectus abdominis that beg to be tickled and smoothed. Ab muscles that… were 400 miles away.

Because Isaiah Mustafa's abs weren't enough in one blog.

400 Fr*%#ckin’ miles away!!!! Why oh why couldn’t I have found a set of ab muscles I liked… RIGHT HERE?!?! Here, in the city of San Francisco; a city filled with tight ab muscles belonging to smart, successful men who want to do nothing more but massage women’s feet, share a great Sonoma syrah at Gary Danko, AND invents new apps for your upcoming 4th generation iPad WHILE preparing to make that gardening robot debut at Burning Man?

Just more gratuitous abs

But NOOOOOOO! That would make life too easy! These perky abs belong to a guy who happens to live… wait for it… back in LOS ANGELES. (Insert 1990′s song by Alanis Morrisette regarding irony, here.) And I like him. A lot. Not in that “I-like-you-I-want-to-be-the-mother-to-your-countless-spawn” way. Not even in that “I-like-you-I-want-to-lick-you-up-and-down-til-you-say-stop!” way. (Although, I think about it sometimes.) I like him in that “I-like-you-and-you-know-yeah-like-that” kinda way.

So here I sit with a texted picture of sunshine in his backyard and sunlight off his chest. Where could this lead? He’s 400 miles away. Are we going to move up to pictures of our naked bodies, then to our respective genitalia, and then when we’re feeling kinky, to specific parts of our bodies like our toe hairs or our epiglottis or 3rd nipples?

Abs....olutley.

And when will we really get to know each other? 160 characters and the occasional phone call? When will we sit and watch a film that we hate? Or burn dinner together? Or realize that I fart more in the afternoon or that he picks his nose while driving? When will we be able to discuss who really needs to take the garbage out or who was it that left the toilet seat up again for the 30th time? When can we rest in the boredom of a wasted afternoon? Or marvel at how quick the afternoon went by? Are we to drive 12 hours every weekend to satisfy our carnal lusts or are we going to Skype like other people? Is it possible to grow a relationship from two different points and somehow meet in the middle without putting up a technological facade of who we think we should be for the other person? Is it????

Also: Long Distance = Really Bad Movie Concept

I ask you, can truth be mined and honesty upheld, desires and wants satiated, personalities laid bare, souls left vulnerable, and just plain love be fostered and nurtured… via an occasional disembodied voice enhanced with the magic of a 4G network? How? And for how long?

I pause. A dream flits in the corners of my eyes. And then I send him a picture of my cat’s 3rd nipple.

Tit for tat.