A common complaint among the good women of BozeMan, Mantana—apart from the age-old "The odds are good, but the goods are odd" lament—is that the dating humor tends to be male-oriented and disrespectful of feminine sensibilities. Case in point: our "Bagging Bunnies" article from last issue (Winter 2012-2013, p. 22) about seducing attractive ski-area hotties, which elicited claims of sexism and objectification. We'll spare you our (scathing) criticism of such (ridiculous) assertions, and instead serve up a piping-hot plate of delicious egalitarian recompense. So now, to satisfy the epicene inclinations of every Bozeman-area bunny, betty, and cougar, behold your very own guide to locating and bedding southwest Montana's finest male specimens. Enjoy. But be gentle: men have feelings, too.
Montana has no shortage of dudes—even with recently equalized ratios in Bozeman proper. Here, huntresses have the luxury of waiting for a real trophy before loosing the arrow of lust—er, love. But with choice comes responsibility: is shooting fish in a barrel really sporting? Still, there are certain places that virtually guarantee quality prowling.
Powerful women seem drawn to climbing, but that doesn’t mean there are many of them—and there aren’t. The crag is a veritable buffet of shirtless, sweating, testosterone-charged man-children fulfilling unresolved adolescent fantasies. The competition is slim-to-none—present any hint of climbing fortitude and/or sexuality and these guys will be whipping off the wall in droves to take you to dinner and fulfill all of your unresolved adolescent fantasies.
Want a sensitive guy? Value a lover who displays attention to detail? Don’t mind the smell of waders drying in the kitchen? Head to the river and wait in ambush, or wet a line and really send the trout bums into a feeding frenzy. These nut jobs spend all winter tying tiny works of art designed to trick a trout into submission. Just imagine what kind of attention that guy would give your, uhh… creel? (It’s really hard to come up with a fishing-related euphemism for vagina, okay?)
In springtime, any of these trailheads are a likely source of man-candy. Here’s what you need to know: if he’s skiing in June, he’s a clinger. He can’t let go, and fixates easily. You may not be able to get rid of him after you’ve had your fun—no good. If he’s biking, check his tire size. 29? He’s compensating for sure. Go for the guy on the singlespeed—his aerobic endurance could really pay off. Running? Pace him and see if he’s threatened by your speed; if so, he’s insecure and you can probably bend him to your will with minimal effort. If he seems okay with you crushing him, he could be a long-term keeper… or gay. Only time will tell.
If it’s a beautiful spring day neither of you should be in the bar. Get outside, and bring that guy with you. He’ll be grateful. Reeeaaaallly grateful. Catch my drift? Which brings me back to the fly fishers...