Skip to main content

The 50 sexiest men? Really?

So, I've been looking at Glamour magazine's poll of the 50 sexiest men in the world, and, to my chagrin, I realize that I have no idea who at least two-thirds of them are. The Jonas Brothers? Justin Bieber? Really???

Of course, the sexiest man, period, in this poll was Robert Pattinson, who plays a vampire in one of those phenomenally successful bloodsucker series that teenagers and wannabe teenagers love. I've seen his pouty, artfully disheveled visage in several publications over the past several months, so I could pick him out of a line-up, but I don't really know who he is. But many of the other "sexy guys" I couldn't even pick out of a line-up.

I think the names and faces on the poll tell us more about those who voted in it than about who is REALLY sexy and who isn't. I suspect the average age of the voters was around 12. In my experience, 12 year old girls, and I assume all the voters were girls, have a very naive concept of sexiness. Yes, even in these times when they are exposed to blatant sex everywhere they look almost from the cradle.

How, then, did truly sexy people like Robert Downey Jr., Orlando Bloom, Will Smith, Daniel Craig, and George Clooney make it onto the list? Well, I guess some grown-up women must have voted. But where is Matt Damon or Viggo Mortensen? Gross oversights!

You'll notice that all of these sexy creatures are actors or musicians, people who deal in fantasy of one kind or another. Are there no sexy poets, or economists, politicians or businessmen? And, the greatest oversight of all - my husband! But then, I think I'll just keep that little secret to myself.

Comments

  1. Beauty (Sexy) is in the eye of the beholder. Age, circumstance, and experience change the eye.

    ReplyDelete
  2. This poll is certainly proof of that, Anonymous.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters!  Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...