Good ol Charm

Rampant rumours abound on the blogosphere that I'm actually seeing someone on the sly. Rather than dealing everyone a blatant credibility gap, I'm actually confirming the rumours ( unlike the virginal Malaysian crooner I mentioned in my last post ). Fear not, I shall not slip into sentimental whimpers but yeah, I have actually been seeing Charming Calvin almost regularly since I made my transfer.

Rare enough that I speak of Calvin since he actually reads my blog in his spare time - horror of horrors, I know! - which actually precludes any sort of skanky comments I might make such as the quiet moments with him that I feel like fucking him hard against a wall after tearing off his conservative shirt. ( Can imagine him falling off his office chair right after reading this pronouncement )

And the quiet moments are legion since he's actually a close-mouthed, taciturn sort - although I have to admit that in comparison to mindlessly babbling chatterbox me, everyone else is practically a Sphinx. Certainly not the typical brash arrogant lion. Riding off into the sunset with marriage cert is definitely not in the cards yet but we're taking the time to appreciate each other - and that's fine by me for the moment. So no fooling around with hunky Chris Evans lookalikes in the changing rooms - unless I give Calvin a heads-up first.


Although sometimes, Calvin finds it hard to appreciate himself and I always find that absolutely puzzling ( despite my own mounting self doubts ). Sure, he's certainly no flawless diamond but that doesn't make him any less precious :) There are days when like any self-conscious gay man, he wishes that he had a tighter butt or bigger pecs, wishes that he was smarter or stronger - and hell, I'm here to tell him that almost every red-blooded guy thinks the same. Just ask anyone. And that goes for the seemingly perfect Chris Evans of the world too.

Nothing's perfect and there's always that tiny pimple on that rock-hard, Carrara marble-smooth bubble butt.

God knows I'm hardly any sort of prize myself but I've actually grown comfortable with myself, not only with my inherent wickedness and flaws but also with my hideous homely skin. Perhaps it's because of the years but I've grown accustomed to my face as the remixed version of the evergreen goes. Especially since I have high hopes that if I collect enough good karma in this lifetime with my samaritanlike deeds, I shall be reincarnated as a lithe, hunky Brandon Routh in the next life. :)

Hell, if not there's always plastic surgery.