My boy friend, Johnny, is tall and lanky with a gorgeous smile, beautiful green eyes and three-quarter inch plugs through his ears. He’s musical, artistic, and kind. We have a fabulous time together. There’s only one disconnect: Johnny likes boys and I like girls. But still, he is a fantastic boy friend.
Johnny and I went on a date last weekend to see the Roller Dolls for the first time. We were surprised to arrive at a rather large venue, just outside the city, with a big turnout. Neither one of us knew it was this popular. It turns out the ladies skate around an oval track and block the other skaters’ way so their team’s jammer (in the starred helmet) makes as many laps as possible and scores points.
“They need to up the sex factor,” Johnny observed of the derby girls in their rather utilitarian, athletic dresses. I agreed, whole-heartedly, since I had pictured something a little more punk-rock badass, like Tank Girl. We both thought we’d see a bit more of a girl-fight, but this clearly wasn’t female wrestling or a jungle catfight scene.
At half time, one lone guy came out with a mop to clean the roller derby track. “If they can afford to rent out this huge venue, they can afford another guy with another mop,” Johnny mused. Somehow, while we watched the Lone Mopper, curling came up–a game where women push stones across the ice using brooms. “Isn’t that kinda like that bar game with the sand–shuffleboard?” Johnny asked. My theory (even though I know I’m wrong) is that the game was invented by bored Scandanavian housewives in the dead of winter because there was absolutely nothing else to do. Oddly, curling was the only part of the Winter Olympics that both Johnny and I caught (except for some odd figure skating here and there–but really, it’s all odd).
We headed out after half time and went to a local gay watering hole where he turned me on to the best bar video game ever: Philly’s Hottest Photo Hunt. In a timed round, you’re given two seemingly identical photos featuring a scantily clad woman and asked to find the differences between them. Then all you have to do is touch the screen where you see a discrepancy, and if you’re correct, the computer highlights it. Johnny was far better at the game than I, since I seemed to only notice the women in the photos, not the discrepancies. When we switched and played the version featuring shirtless men, I scored a lot better than Johnny–who became distracted by one guy’s impossibly ripped abs (hello, Photoshop).
Who knows why we find beauty and attraction where we do. Johnny says there’s a mathematical formula that explains it. Beauty is symmetry, after all, so I guess that makes sense. Honestly, it’s whatever floats your boat. And really, at the end of the day…That’s all folks!