I Love Love Love Whistlers

I am delighted when a guy can whistle. It's a total Zippidy DO da in my book. To be clear, I'm not talking about guys that whistle at me, like strangers sexually harassing me on a street (That's a Zippidy do DON'T.) I'm talking about guys that can whistle a tune like their mouth is a whimsical little musical instrument.

Confession: I cannot whistle. I've only been able to (sorta) whistle once in my life and it was when I had braces in jr. high school. But, it sounded more like air being let out of a balloon than anything remotely classified as fun or musical. Sad trombone noise.

So, imagine the exhilaration I felt when he whistled a little ditty out of nowhere while we were waiting for the train. "Whistle some more," I demanded. He happily obliged, this time with more pizazz. He zipped up and down the musical scale like it [wasn't] no thang but a chicken wing on a string.

I've never heard such whistling mastery. I've kissed that mouth before, but I had no idea what hidden talents it had. What a thrill! (Just so you know how I classify thrills, I also think when the dude at the cafe waves the 7 cents off my $2.07 iced coffee order so it's an even two bucks is thrilling. I clearly have a low thrill threshold.)

Now, he whistles all the time and my face lights up like a Lite-Brite on a Jumbotron on the Vegas strip at night. Well, shit. I'm kicking it a human kazoo; who wouldn't be thrilled?