Men on a Mission

Today I received another sign that God actually exists. All ye doubting naysayers ( and I do mean skeptical Lanky Lex ), read on.

Common enough here to see zealous Christian do-gooders out on a mission to save the decadent, unprincipled majority. These squeaky shiny missionaries come knocking door-to-door on lazy Sunday mornings all equipped with the Holy Book, squawling infants and pastel pink umbrellas. Unfortunately their methods aren't met with much success since doors are continually slammed in their faces.

Figuratively. And literally sometimes.

I believe they should learn a lesson or two from the Latter Day Saints - otherwise known as the Mormons. What can I say? Fresh-faced corn-fed boys from the Midwest - perspiring heavily from cycling on their ten-speeds in our sultry weather to deliver the good news - are greeted with much more warmth by desperate housewives in these neighbourhoods. It's that natural mothering instinct, I believe.


Bringing the news...
And ever since the success of romantic flick Latter Days with the admittedly inspiring Elder Aaron Davis, I'm sure many a drooling gay boy would readily fling open their doors, no doubt fantasizing about finding a missionary position of their own.

Now don't go running around town searching for salvation yet. For some inexlicable reason, these boys rarely make an appearance in these vaguely heathenish parts.

Thought they only existed in my wicked imagination... well, until last weekend when I managed to catch the eye of a samaritan duo while I was out sharing a friendly meal with Big Bicep Barry.

Of course the Mormon boys weren't both demigods. Endless streets peopled by hunky barechested Adonises only happens in Studio Hollywood after all :) There was a small younger twink who looked barely out of high school, still struggling with his sophomoric bashfulness along with a moderate attack of acne / sunburn. Would have patted him on the head if I hadn't been too busy staring agog at the Other.

Yes. There was the Other. Hereby named Dashing Damascus for blinding me with his streaked-blonde clean-cut collegiate Abercrombie & Fitch magnificence at first glance.

After my gaping like a fish for a space of ten minutes or so ( puzzling over how a plain white shirt and boring corduroy black pants could make me wanna jump him on the grimy floor of the eatery ), even the seemingly more confident Damascus was starting to feel a tad discomfited over the unwanted attention. Recognizing the signs, regular heterosexual folks would throw a hysterical gay panic and swing violent fists my way. Fortunately these boys were made of sterner, holier stuff and wandered over to say a pleasant hello.

For my leering efforts, Big Bicep Barry got an eye-opening sermon on the sacrifices of Jesus Christ ( and also the mission of the Mormons to help the poor, feed the hungry, teach English, build schools and homes ) while I got a small holy book.

Obviously I looked the more irreclaimable of the duo - possibly because I kept ogling the older guy in the duo, imagining Dashing Damascus in all sorts of lewd unchristian acts not seen since the glory days of Sodom and Gomorrah. No doubt fearing for his prized chastity ( since they are to abstain from any premarital sexual act ), the blushing Damascus quickly thanked us for listening, shook our hands vigorously and made a prompt getaway.

Barry : First time I see bikes raising dust as they get away.
Paul : I bet he looks real good naked.
Barry : They can still hear you.
Paul : Not when he's chanting prayers to ward off my evil. You think he didn't know?
Barry : Honestly, do you actively picture every man naked?
Paul : You want me to have daily nightmares? Only a select few. Like Damascus there.
Barry : I should be relatively safe then.
Paul : Never imagined you with clothes actually, even now. See. Naked.
Barry : Ooo-kay.

That shut him up but good.

Of course then a few days later, I get back and see this. Wishful thinking works dammit. Mormon boys exposing themselves in an eye-candy calendar.


Now tell me, my brothers, do you believe!!
Come on, is that sheer coincidence or God answering my prayers? Hallelujah! Poor Damascus might not have known it but he might have inadvertently turned me into a believer! And he didn't even need God speaking from the heavens.