I had to end Guyday Friday with this image of our beautiful dark knight slumbering . . . I want to stroke that stubbled cheek and kiss that elfin ear. *sigh* We’ll wish him happy dreams and not bad ones.
I received my Entertainment Weekly in the mail today. The cover photo was of Channing Tatum unbuttoning his shirt with an arrow pointing to the center of the cover indicating you should “open here.” And so, being an obedient girl, I did. Inside was a photo featuring Tatum along with fellow hunky actors Matt Bomer, Matthew McConaughey and Joe Manganiello all sporting dirty tank tops, tight black leather and in Joe’s case, just suspenders up top to showcase his ripped abs. These handsome gents are starring in a movie titled Magic Mike, set to open next month.
Tatum actually was a male stripper back in his teenage years and he pitched the concept for this movie to well-respected director, Steven Soderbergh. It’s said to have some of the wildest, campiest strip scenes ever depicted in a studio film, and unlike Showgirls, Magic Mike is said to be “intentionally funny.” And here are some of the photos from the issue, courtesy of Just Jared:
Now, I suspect this will be a hit, drawing lots of females and quite a few males (Matt Bomer is openly gay and Tatum, although straight, appears to have a gay following). It will be interesting to see how it does fare at the box office. But the reason I shared these photos with you is to also share my reaction to them.
They’re nice photos. The guys are all handsome and buff. And–that’s about it. No ” OMG–look at that BODY!” No need to wipe the drool from my mouth and tell my heart to stop beating quite so fast.
I don’t look into their eyes and feel they own me. I don’t feel a mad desire to touch their bare chests. I appreciate all the work they put into getting so ripped for these roles. I certainly like looking at handsome, sexy men. But I don’t feel as if I have been punched in the old solar plexus when I look at them.
Because they aren’t Richard Armitage. If these were photos of RA in similar attire and poses, there might very well be drool all over this keyboard. Not to mention a screen heavily smudged with my fingerprints from finding my fingers stroking it. Kind of like I want to do with these images:
I am hopelessly devoted to Mr. Armitage and his special brand of buffness, beauty and sex appeal . . . sorry, boys. But there ain’t no other man like RA.