last night i saw the most beautiful man on the B line. gorgeous, really…like something out of a movie or magazine, freaking unreal. he had smooth skin like coffee with just the right amount of cream. curves and lines of perfect muscle everywhere. eyes, lips, jawbones, every damned thing on his face just beautiful. even the way he was casually leaning back against the side of the streetcar was far too perfect. too striking. even his clothes were perfect. in every conceivable way, this man was beautiful. not pretty, not handsome, not cute, not ruggedly sexy or attractive. beautiful.
…and i wanted nothing more than to maybe stab him in the eyeball or something because it was just too much. well, ok, maybe not that extreme, but perhaps encourage him to go out and get in a knife fight with some burly drunks — or maybe take up a delibitating drug habit. or maybe he could just not bathe for stretches of two weeks at a time. poor personal hygiene and the mighty mighty stench that would result could help repent for a beauty that no female could ever hope to attain. seriously, no woman would ever look that good in just jeans and a t-shirt with carefully worn in sneakers. most girls need makeup and a whole slew of other things to make them presentable — myself included, myself especially included, but it’s not so much “presentable” as it is “marginally acceptable”. honestly, really beautiful men are almost repellant. fine to look at, but they straddle the line of almost looking feminine, or better. could effortlessly in fact, be women…yet somehow they are not. which is good, cuz it would get all the more confusing. and androgyny is not really that appealing. at least, not to me.
the funny thing about this suspiciously beautiful dude on the T last night is he wasn’t at all something that i would ever consider wanting to bone. he was like a zoo creature. like ‘oooh, look at that thar manthing, he shore is purty!’ too attractive to be attractive. which is not to say i would only want to anally violate the most slovenly of sideshow freaks and monstrosities. i don’t. i’m not.
and of course, the whole reason i even noticed most likely is because i was dead tired post-gym. too tired to even leaf through the insanely hilarious george carlin book i got from the library. just wasted, really. my strength training gym teacher thingie says my arms are getting stronger. but i think she lies like a cheap, cheap, filthy, diseased whore. upper body strenght? yeah fucking right! YOU LIE!!! i’m still this giant blob of something or other…and generally am most hideous of all immediately after workouts. which of course, is when i have to be trapped on the train with this unholy specimen of what pretty people should look like is there. funtastic. to your left, boston’s most gorgeous male creature. to your right, um…ugh…ew, don’t look directly at it, folks, you might go blind. this is most likely where the stabby feeling came from.
yep, that’s about it. remember: don’t look directly at it — you might go blind. also, lcd soundsystem makes fabulous running music.
