Okay, sure, there are lots of (obvious) things that people find sexy, but the FB realized she didn't actually know (specifically) what the HD found sexy. Suddenly, she found herself Googling "clothes that men find sexy" in French. (Her computer subsequently sent her a withering email that read: Omg, are you f*cking kidding me? And yes, the FB knows what a pathetic fallacy is, thank you very much.)
Anyway, the answers online were absurd. But the question is not. The FB considers all sorts of things sexy that are not stereotypically or classically sexy: the HD's reading glasses, the sound of razor stubble against skin, men who know how to wear white jeans, crisp linen shirts that wrinkle over the course of an evening, cashmere sweaters, worn t-shirts, beautiful hands, etc. Sexy is in the eye of the beholder, and the FB found she didn't yet know what the HD found sexy, except for two things: faded jeans and anything with thin straps that reveal shoulders. This makes nonsense of the FB's collection of perfectly fitting dark wash J Brand jeans and leaves her staring at her closet in dismay.
So, the FB ended up wearing her one pair of faded jeans and an Empire waist top whose straps regularly fell off her shoulders, much to the HD's delight.
The FB would like to pause here and note that the word "sexy" fills her with a kind of minor, cloying repulsion she usually reserves for antimacassars, marmalade, rum cocktails, and certain kinds of interior decoration involving tropical flowers and chintz. It is too on on the nose and lacks the subtleties that actually make something sexy, like intrigue, mystery, nonchalance, elegance, mischief, etc. That said, if she begins down the path of criticizing words because they fail to do their meanings justice, there will be no return. And now she finds she must take pity on the word sexy. It can't help it if it's a tiny bit vulgar, a tiny bit inadequate and unlovely.
It'll just have to do.
