Bromance – 1/8/11
I am what is known as a stereotypical man. I like playing sport, watching sport, talking sport, driving fast cars, looking at fast cars, drinking pints of anything alcoholic, eating curry and taking the piss out of anything and everything that crosses my path. Even though I am a very happily married man to (boast) a seriously fit woman, I also can appreciate other attractive beholders of the female form. With all this in mind, what I’m about to admit is some what contradictory to my character.
I have a man crush.
A man crush, according to its dictionary definition, is “a strong and extremely complicated positive emotion that a straight male feels towards another male. It is by no means homosexual, although it could possibly involve some degree of sexual attraction. This is not the type of sexual attraction that one would actually pursue; it is merely a complex sort of desire out of “fantasy” that is driven by jealousy and/or great admiration.”
I met my man crush in the flesh for the first time this week.
Now, this fella can work a room. I watched as he snaked his way through the crowd, pausing to meet and greet in the manner of a homecoming hero. He doled out big bear hugs, slobbery kisses, and vigorous handshakes, his bright, lock-and-load eyes widening in what seemed like proper delight at each brief union. He wore a suit that made Sinatra look like a hobo and he smelt sweeter than a new born baby wrapped in talcum powder. The women swooned, of course – but it was a lad from Blackburn who really fell for this swashbuckling hero. As he approached me everything went into slow motion.
Like many of his fans I have always been fond of his work, admiring him from afar. This isn’t unusual because there are loads of other chaps that I have admiration for. I am very lucky that through my chosen career I often find myself in the presence of such people.
I mentioned earlier I love sport. Football is a prime example where 40,000 blokes thrust their lust towards their male hero’s every time they hit the peak of scoring a goal. The football player runs towards his admirers, standing triumphantly, demanding his fans adoration. The crowd – big, daft, married blokes with mortgages – give it to him every time. However, as I write this, whenever I have met said footballer I have never crumbled into the quivering wreck that I experienced this week. The footballers become normal again.
Not this time.
This was different.
As my man crush grabbed my hand my heart pounded through my chest cavity. I couldn’t muster any words, just a mumble of some sort that I’m sure portrayed my delight of being in this moment.
‘Hey man’. He spoke with the confidence of an American army general about address his troops in a blockbuster of a Hollywood film as they embark on defeating their alien enemy.
His big paw of a left hand caressed my shoulder in a ‘Yeah I know … I’m the coolest guy on the planet’ kind of way. And then he was gone. Disappearing into his dressing room in order to appear on one of the nation’s favourite TV shows, that afternoon.
I hope that one day we meet again in order for me to converse with a man that I know can become my new best mate.
Until that time I will never forget my 10 seconds with …..
One Response to Bromance – 1/8/11
Awesome! ha ha x
By adam, On September 15, 2011 at 12:51 am