A well-written standpoint on this age-long issue.
The other night my wife and I watched X-Men: First Class.
I hadn’t mentioned anything, but I wanted to see Jennifer Lawrence’s portrayal of Mystique, which is another way of saying I wanted to see Jennifer Lawrence naked. We all know how Rebecca Romijn had perfected the role with her body in earlier versions of the franchise, but I wanted to see how the plain-spoken determination that Lawrence displayed in Winter’s Bone would translate into nudity.
I was optimistic.
However, very, very quickly I found myself utterly mesmerized by Michael Fassbender.
He was sexy. Jesus, he was dead sexy. And then there was James McAvoy. He was sexy, too. Sexy in a different way, but still sexy. Together, the chemistry they shared burned through the screen and I simply couldn’t take my eyes off of them. I mean, I wanted them to do stuff. Pulling myself together, I asked Rachelle, “Where’s Jennifer McLarwebender?”
Rachelle pointed her out.
“So she’s the blue one? Man alive, I just wish she’d get out of the way, sometimes she makes it hard to see Fassbender and McAvoy!”
Rachelle pursed her lips, “So, you want to have a better view of the guys, do you?”
I felt a little defensive at first and said nothing, but I couldn’t contain myself, “Yes! Look at them! They’re hot as hell! Way better than anything on “True Blood”! And don’t you judge me, you’d be in there like a dirty shirt in a second!”
And after just a moment of looking at one another we both nodded and returned to the movie.
Some 20 years ago when I was in high school, to say that you found another man sexy, let alone two of them, spelled certain doom. And it’s not that I grew up in an unusually parochial environment. As far as these things went, the school I attended in Ottawa — one of the larger Canadian cities — was relatively liberal minded. No matter, if you were gay or suspected of being gay, your life was to be misery.
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