Some years ago, while working at a PBS station, the women in my office fell into that conversation. You know, the one in which they name whom they'd find attractive if they were gay. They trotted out a pretty typical list of hot singers and celebrities, all with total comfort.
And then it came my turn. Me, the only guy in the office. They were all so... open. So at ease with it.
And I tried to be open-minded. I tried to realize that I was among friends, and that I could be honest.
Honest. Yes.
Okay... I... I.
Deep breath. Okay. So the task was to name someone of my own gender I would find attractive. You know, only if I were gay.
It's... it's.
It's no one. Blech! Ptooey! I'm open-minded. I am. I feel pretty damn at ease among gay folks. I just happen to be exceedingly straight.
The best I could do, when put on the spot that day, was to say that I wish I could age as well as David Bowie.
It was a cop-out, and they all knew it.
***
There's a whole list of things parents say regularly to kids. I say some things so often that I've often threatened to just make a CD featuring me barking commands every few seconds. That way I can save my breath.
MOBB and I have come up with some titles on this greatest hits CD of ours:
1. “Eat”
2. “Stop That!”
3. “No kicking”
4. “Get dressed/Get Your Shoes On”
5. “Come Here. Here. Here. Here.”
6. “Stop Licking”
7. “Get the Fork Out of Your Eye.”
8. “Let It Go, Son”
9. “Eat” (remix)
10. “Stop Making That Sound Before My Brain Explodes”
***
And I did it, sort of. Made a recording of my voice saying "EAT!" to play at supper one night. It was funny, too funny to have any real effect.
***
There is this phenomenon of the Man Crush though. It aptly captures this other thing. I guess it's not even like a crush in the traditional sense, because it's a different sort of attraction.
Really.
It's... admiration maybe. Something where some guy just strikes you as being someone you'd like to emulate. But it's still worthy of the "crush" label because really, you take it just a little too far. I guess it's like liking someone, but pathologically.
***
So here they are.
#1 on BB's Man Crush List:
Curt Schilling. He's tubby and he talks too much, but he was instrumental in helping the Diamondbacks defeat the Yankees in the '01 World Series, and more importantly, in helping Boston defeat the Yankees in the '05 ALCS.
(And yes, I could write an entire dissertation on my hatred of the Yankees. There's something pathological, certainly, about the joy I take in seeing them lose. But I digress).
Schilling, the ace of the Red Sox staff in '05, had an ankle injury during the series. Did he opt out, ride the pine? No. He got a doctor to stitch his errant tendon in place so he could make his start. And as he bled through the sock, he pitched heroically against Satan's team. You couldn't have scripted it any better for a team that hadn't won a World Series, which the Sox went on to do against the limp Cards, in 80 some-odd years.
***
#2 on BB's Man Crush List:
Page Hamilton, singer/guitarist/songwriter/creative force for Helmet. One of my favorite bands ever, even if I am burned out on them. They're not about shrieking, grandstanding, wanking, or wallowing in anything except big sound with a smart, aggressive attitude.
Hamilton is scary-skinny, keeps his hair cut to almost nothing, isn't much to look at, dresses like he works in a CD shop and just generally walks his own path.
But he's affable, smart (with a master's in jazz guitar, if I recall), and some reflection of an alter ego of mine. Hard to explain. Live with it.
***
#3 on BB's Man Crush List:
Chris Cornell. From his earliest days with Soundgarden, when I marveled at "Gun" and "Get on the Snake," to seeing him perform earlier this year, I just plumb like the guy. Okay, so the mix on Carry On is somehow TOO voice-heavy... and so it's hard to get used to the man who sang "Rusty Cage" singing light rock... he's still the man. I listen to something Cornell's done just about every day.
***
#4 on BB's Man Crush List:
Randy Couture [edited--thanks Whit]. I'm sorry I'm not putting a photo here. I'm tired of searching for the images, and frankly, any I find would probably be shirtless. I... can't do it.
But he's well into his 40s and still a force to be reckoned with in MMA, period. I wouldn't mess with him if he were 90 and I had a machete.
***
That wraps that up. I'm feeling mighty gabby tonight, but I'd better cap this before it's as long as the Gutenberg Bible. I think the next entry will talk a bit about the Rangers trade for outfielder Josh Hamilton. It's fascinating stuff.
***
Sleep tight.
3 comments:
It's C-O-U-T-U-R-E. Funny thing...I decided not to search the 'net to double-check my spelling, and instead timed how long it took for me to find a physical reference (magazine, catalog, etc.) to him here in my home. It took me 18 seconds to walk to another room, pick up a magazine, and find the proper spelling. Now, go do your friggin' Burpees!
Oh, and I agree...90 years old or not, a machete might not be enough.
But... say it. Say it! "I, Whit McClendon, also have a man crush on Randy C-O-U-T-U-R-E!"
You can add "he's dreamy" if you want.
Post a Comment