I am reminded why I am attracted to men every day, every hour, every minute. It will either be the forty-something lawyer in his pin strip navy blue suite on the train on his way to work, his morning shower still hanging in his hair; the labourer in his king gees and overworked bloodstones who always grabs that early morning sandwich at the same time I collect my mid-morning coffee and the cheeky cockiness of that DJ’s menswear attendant who is always a little too keen to sell me another tie I do not need. The centre of Sydney is a continual source of adoration and repressed flirtation forever re-affirming my sexual orientation. Because it is so frequent I hardly notice it but every so often I am jolted awake…. like I was tonight.
My friend R invited me along to the launch of photographic exhibition in Paddington. Her friend was launching the artist. It was all very 1968 revolution with more Nepalese pashmenas and velvet smoker’s jackets than you could poke a stick out. The exhibition was fabulous but the free grog and nibblies even more so. R’s friend J wandered over resembling a young Maggie Tabbera asking what we thought of the exhibition, our congratulations soon following. R and J went to school together and have known each other more than 20 years. They both started catching up as my eyes gazed around the room assessing the male quotient of the crowd. It was a good-looking crowd and I was happily gazing until my view was interrupted by a broad strong figure tailored in Armani charcoal making his away towards us.
J: Ur late?
J: R u remember K?
R: Ah yes…K how are you
J: Colin this is my brother K.
K: Sorry I’m late everyone….nice to meet you Colin, R.
It was like J had unveiled the final masterpiece of her exhibition. The whole room gauked at him. I almost clapped. He was beautiful; 6ft 2, olive complexion, nice lean athletic build, piercing black eyes and a jaw that could chop wood. He was soft and masculine all at the same time whilst ever so slightly cross-eyed; I don’t know what it is but wog boys who are slightly crossed eyed cause me to develop paralysis below the knees.
He was a dead ringer for Bobby Cannavale….the guy who played Will’s policeman boyfriend in Will & Grace…..but more stylish and refined. I spent the rest of the evening doing what anyone who comes across a masterpiece does….I blatantly stared and tried to work out a way I could possibly steal him. But to no avail our goodbyes were offered and R dropped me home to slumber to wake up again in the morning to my daily, hourly minute by minute routine of reaffirming all of the above.
My friend R invited me along to the launch of photographic exhibition in Paddington. Her friend was launching the artist. It was all very 1968 revolution with more Nepalese pashmenas and velvet smoker’s jackets than you could poke a stick out. The exhibition was fabulous but the free grog and nibblies even more so. R’s friend J wandered over resembling a young Maggie Tabbera asking what we thought of the exhibition, our congratulations soon following. R and J went to school together and have known each other more than 20 years. They both started catching up as my eyes gazed around the room assessing the male quotient of the crowd. It was a good-looking crowd and I was happily gazing until my view was interrupted by a broad strong figure tailored in Armani charcoal making his away towards us.
J: Ur late?
J: R u remember K?
R: Ah yes…K how are you
J: Colin this is my brother K.
K: Sorry I’m late everyone….nice to meet you Colin, R.
It was like J had unveiled the final masterpiece of her exhibition. The whole room gauked at him. I almost clapped. He was beautiful; 6ft 2, olive complexion, nice lean athletic build, piercing black eyes and a jaw that could chop wood. He was soft and masculine all at the same time whilst ever so slightly cross-eyed; I don’t know what it is but wog boys who are slightly crossed eyed cause me to develop paralysis below the knees.
He was a dead ringer for Bobby Cannavale….the guy who played Will’s policeman boyfriend in Will & Grace…..but more stylish and refined. I spent the rest of the evening doing what anyone who comes across a masterpiece does….I blatantly stared and tried to work out a way I could possibly steal him. But to no avail our goodbyes were offered and R dropped me home to slumber to wake up again in the morning to my daily, hourly minute by minute routine of reaffirming all of the above.
6 comments:
God darn it Colin - it would've been so much better had you finished the story with you taking him home and ravishing the daylights out of him...you betcha it would've! ;-) Oh well, next time!
I know I am Dame Barbra Cartland of your world...I will try better next time!
... so did you get a hint as to his, ahem, orientation ?
Who knows.....when they're that hot, I can never tell.
The only thing wrong with this posting was the title. I would have had him sent to my room and then washed him myself!
I forget about Cannavale playing Will's boyfriend, but remember him more for the part he played on the polic/fire drama show Third Watch. He was definitely one of the highlights in watching the show. Business suits and uniforms ALWAYS do it for me. :-)
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