Spring is coming, and that means only one thing: women in skirts. I motherfonking love women in skirts. Short ones, long ones. Colorful ones, black ones. Skirts with slits, for business. Skirts with flowers, for hippies. I don't care. Boots, legs, fabric draping off of perfect butts. Fantastic. Is there a difference between a skirt and a dress? I don't know. I like them both.

There are four fashion seasons to a dude: Bikini Season (Summer,) Tight Sweater Season (Fall,) Boring Puffy Coat Season (Winter,) and Skirt Season (Spring.) Mother Nature is sort of a MILF.

There's been far too much cold, snow, and dreary, machine-gun gray.skies. This entire winter has been way goth.

I want to get spring drunk and make out with it. And I will be able to do this, because spring is almost here. I'm sure of it. It's not winter dressed up like spring. We're talking flowers, and rain, and bunny rabbits. I freaking love spring. Right now, my window is open. The sun is shining. The cool breeze smells like a world about to thaw.

I just went for a walk and I stumbled around, dazed and blinking. My hibernation is over. This bear is ready to get his springtime on. Pretty soon it will be warm. Jackets will be shed. And the streets will be filled with legs, legs, legs.

Gams. Stems. Pillars of Sexy. Getaway sticks. A woman's legs are strong and graceful. They go all the way up. Short skirts show off the full shape of a woman's legs -- the power of the thigh, the smoothness of the calf. Longer skirts are just short skirts that tease. I don't know a man alive who isn't dumbstruck when a lady in something low-cut swoosh-swooshes by. I don't really go ga-ga over women in high heels -- flats are fine. I don't have a foot fetish.

I do love, however, cowgirl boots. Ironic or not. Especially when those cowgirl boots are still on when everything else is off. Running a hand up and under a skirt in a stolen patch of shadows, or lifting that skirt up while legs wrap around legs is one of the primary reasons men love a woman in such dressing. Easy access.   

Spring is the best time of year for first kisses. Holding hands. Strolls in the park. If winter symbolizes the icy embrace of the grave, then spring is the spirit of new life. It is love. Bright blossoms punching their way up to the sun. And humans showing off the shape they had to hide for months. Letting their silky limbs loose. It's funny: when it's below freezing, I shiver. But months later, when I first glimpse a long pair of legs, I shiver with want. From my fingertips to my bellybutton, from my inner thighs to my toes.  

Sigh. I feel like a mythological Satyr, with little goat feet and a pan flute. I'm just a rambunctious little imp thrilled that the world is blooming again. I just want everyone to go outside and smooch. It was a hard February. I've been cooped up too long.

Long story short: time to buy some new, spring dresses and skirts, ladies. Thank you in advance for your attention to this matter.