Transplanted Life
Saturday, February 21, 2004
Hockey v. Movies
Spent the night at Carter's last night, after hitting Blockbuster for a couple of movies. It was fun; he cooked for me and we watched Apollo 13 and Cold Comfort Farm. He hadn't seen the second one before, but then again, it seems like very few people have; it's a movie John Schlessinger did for the BBC that got a tiny theatrical release here in the States and has done OK on video. I had a copy of it as Martin, but haven't picked up another one - for some weird reason, it's only available in a 2-pack with Casual Sex? (starring, get this, Victoria Jackson and Andrew Dice Clay), and there's no way I'm buying that movie twice.

Watching Cold Comfort Farm, I wondered if it was weird that my first reaction to someone saying they like Kate Beckinsale is still something along the lines of "tough! I saw her first, back in Much Ado About Nothing and Cold Comfort Farm, and she's mine and you can't have her!" I mean, that wasn't exactly sane back when I was a man; now, it's just silly. She is a cutie, though, and there are days when I wish I could look that elegant. Her characters, especially in period pieces, are often the type of woman that are described as looking smart, not in an intellectual sense (though they can be that), but just well-put together and dressed. Kind of like another Kate I know.

This was sort of payback for Thursday night, when we popped into a bar for a drink and wound up hanging around most of the night as Carter got engrossed in the Bruins game; it only seemed to lose his attention when guys noticed I wasn't particularly interested in the game and started hitting on me. Not that I would have gone off with any of them, but the attention was nice. I've never been a big hockey fan; I'm told that it's kind of like soccer, where you can't become a fan by watching it on TV, but have to see it live. I'm pretty much a baseball person, myself, but Carter really seemed to be into the game. The other people at the bar gave us a few odd looks, like they weren't used to seeing a guy with Carter's skin color be a big hockey fan, but that's one of the great things about sports - fandom trumps stuff like race and religion with very little effort.

Though, speaking of judging on appearances, I'm kind of feeling a little weird about something Carter said last night. We were lying in bed, and he was running his hands through my hair, and he commented that I'd look good as a blonde. I told him I didn't think so, that I'd just look like some bimbo stereotype, and that I'd only gone back to "my" natural color just this last August. He swore I'd look good, and that he was thinking of growing his own hair out and didn't want to go it alone. I started laughing because I instantly pictured him with an afro, and that's just funny.

Still, when I got home and looked in the mirror, I thought about it. Part of the reason I'd let the brunette come out was that I just wanted to see something different in the mirror than the girl who'd stolen my body. I mean, I have to admit that Michelle had grabbed both Kurt's and my attention as a blonde, so I can'd deny this body looks good like that - heck, Kurt had seemed a little disappointed when I showed up for that first date with brown hair.

Something to consider, I guess.

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