If you don’t do anything else this month, do this!
2016 ended with the hysteria of Have a Valentine Dinner with Idris Elba. Now, don’t get me wrong. I have had my moments with Idris, but he is getting on; isn’t he?
Dare: In 2017, let anyone, & I mean anyone, up a video like that with Trevante Rhodes on it! I will be all over that shit like a bad rash. Oh. God. Please. Let Someone.
Last weekend I had 2 dates. Good dates.
The 2nd date was on Saturday with a friend who is culturally cultivated. The movie was the highly recommended Moonlight.
Forget about the movie. I don’t really care about the movie. It is him, he doesn’t become wonderful until the end.
First, it is a clumsy boy who everyone loves to abuse, disabuse & ignore. Except the drug dealer of course. Whatever his name is.
And then it is a teenager who is gay and lost. Abused, disabused & ignored. Or not. And there is another teenage boy who is not so important touching him at some point.
Suddenly, from no where, he is this man. No, he is these muscles. these fantastic muscles and the wonderful eyes. He has these awful golden teeth but who cares when you look at those eyes and those muscles.
His regular smile, without the golden teeth, is beautiful.
He is supposed to be gay but I don’t believe it. I would not be having all those feels if he was gay. or? Because if he was gay, only the gay guys would be feeling anything looking at his muscles and his so “come here” eyes. And the lips; just slightly open. Just look at those eyes and those lips!
After Moonlight, I left the movies wondering: “what do I do with all this
heat, warmth, wanting love?”
The explanation for my not so lady-ish, catholic nun-recommended feels? I watched Moonlight just 24 hours after watching 50 shades darker. As you can guess, this was with a kind of loose canons gang of friends.
50 shades is ART. Real art. The shit. There is even an art display room called the Red Room. Art in its best form.
I never saw 50 shades of Grey. I read the book.
I am pretending to be better that those who watched the movie.
Someone once said to me that the 50 shades franchise is for middle aged women who are starved for fun and sex.
This was during a weak moment when I was pretending to be better that those who watched 50 Shades of Grey.
That someone was wrong! Totally not true! They were speaking about the movie. Not Mr Grey.
Mr Grey, the master is h.o.o.o.t. Watch 1:02-1:04 and let me know if that is for middle aged ladies!
I left the movies wondering “what do I do with all this
heat, warmth, wanting love??” My wonderful friends recommended a sex shop where I can actually buy the “balls” and other paraphernalia that can be useful.
But just for this night, it was too late to buy any of these wonderful recommendations.
You will thank me after you’ve watched these! Or not.