Those mad eyes peering through the dark tangle of hair, the open mouth--oh dear. Such a visceral reaction.
Yeah, he's unkempt. He's dirty. But I would still try to wrestle him down and drag him off to my womancave for fun and games. Then clean him up afterwards. Bathtime can be fun, no?
(I wrote this a while back and posted at LJ. And Wild Man Guy still has this effect on me. I should add my husband is astonishingly good-humored about my whole RA addiction. But sometimes I do make him scratch his head a bit.)
The Mysterious Appeal of a Greasy Mane; or My Spouse Thinks I’m Crazy
Men just don’t get it sometimes. That knowledge was reinforced this weekend when my husband watched the first episode of Robin Hood S3 when they re-ran it on BBC America.
“Is that him?” Benny queried, as a boozy, hollow-eyed Sir Guy of Gisborne, his greasy, tangled mane falling across his face, told Jasper and the sheriff he had killed Robin “with these hands.”
“Richard? Yes, that’s him in the center – Guy,” carefully avoiding any “squee”- type response. I try to be sensitive to the male ego. And I do love the dear old thing (50 next month).
“The gay-looking guy?” He said incredulously.
I huffed just a little. “He is s-o-o-o not gay.”
He rolled his eyes and moved over to the computer desk, as I continued to watch my gorgeous and so-not-gay dark knight.
His eyes would occasionally stray upwards to where the TV sat.
“You see, Richard can really act with that hair, honey. Guy’s all angsty and in torment right now because of what happened with Marian . . .”
Benny’s expression remained noncommittal.
“And I find it – very – appealing.”
He gave me that “you must be crazy” look I’ve seen a few too many times.
“Look, I can appreciate a good-looking guy, but that-” he jerked his head toward Shaggy Guy’s image – “that greasy mop and all is just not attractive.”
I sighed. ~Oh, it is to me, honey. The things I want to do to him. And then the fun I’d have cleaning him up afterwards~
Discretion being the better part of valor, I kept those thoughts to myself.
“He has a real animal magnetism. It’s like I have this – primal response,” I said with a rather sheepish shrug.
“Hmmmm.” Raising a skeptical brow, he shook his head.
Of course, we all know Sir Guy cleans up nicely. But I like him dirty, too.
Image via Wikipedia
Undaunted, I showed him my lovely netbook wallpaper featuring shots of Richard circa “Cold Feet.”
“Now you have to agree he looks perfectly presentable there,” I insisted.“Yeah, he looks OK there.”
~OK? I want to lick my computer screen!~
“Anyway, it’s a good thing he’s off in England, it’ll limit your opportunities to stalk him,” he added dryly.
~As if! I mean, really~
It was no use. He just couldn’t comprehend the fact that a boozy, greasy, wild-eyed medieval knight played by one Mr. Armitage was a breed apart.
I did have one triumphant moment. He knows I am no great admirer of Robin.
“I’ll agree with you on one thing,” he said. “That Robin Hood is sure nothing to write home about . . .”
Finally. A meeting of the minds.
Men just don’t get it sometimes, do they?