Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Neighbor had a bunch of DVDs to lend. Flipping through the selection, "Mamma Mia!" suddenly jumped out at me.
When I saw the preview to this movie last year, I almost died. (1) I grew up with Abba and I know every melody by heart. (2) Meryl Streep is my favorite actress. (3) Pierce Brosnan is so good looking. I thought the movie would affect me too much, so I decided not to watch it. But that was almost a year ago.
"Let's watch this, honey," I said cheerfully.
"It's gonna bring out the inner-gay in me!" Arms waving in the air, fingers snapping.
My wife's eyes rolled.
The DVD player stuck out its tongue at me and I fed it a round, silver biscuit.
La la la... nice songs, okay singing, and the show was over (and of course, they had to throw in a token gay guy). Wife was a little bored, and alas, my inner-gay was nowhere to be seen.
The men did nothing for me. Not even Shirtless-Half-The-Time Brosnan over whom I used to drool. He reminded me of Brother A who already loves me through and through. What more was there to fantasize over? Actually, that question wasn't even on my mind. There was just... nothing. No allure.
The women? I wondered if I would identify with their squeels and giggles, and feel like one of them as I used to in the past (even if I didn't show it outwardly). To my surprise, I did want to be with them, but not as if I were one of them. I wanted to be with them because they were beautiful, and I was different.
Them, women; I, man.
Look at me now...