You see one of my LISA pals is a young cute geekish guy (as so many of them are), with a sweet smile and a lively demeanor. When I joined my friends at the hot tub, there he was, sitting on the edge of the pool, in his bathing suit. And, um, how to put this? I'd arrived at hunk central. I could go into descriptive detail, and believe me I want to, but let's just say that this gentleman was beautifully put together, by my lights. I had one of those "did I say that out loud" moments, and while what I said may not actually have been "hubba hubba" I believe the subtext was clear. (To which the charming response was a sort of embarrassed dismissiveness.)
What this made me think of was the movie cliche of the secretary who lets her hair out of its bun, takes off her glasses, and va-va-voom! Or perhaps Clark Kent emerging from the phone booth in his superman tights.
At a later point ocelot_flavored (who's something of a hunk in his own right, I should point out) made me realize that I was perhaps the last of our merry bunch to notice this hidden aspect of our friend. What can I say? I left my x-ray glasses at home last year.
And then I got to thinking: Why hadn't I noticed such a notable thing? I think the answer is that, subconsciously, I associate a certain sort of hard-won hunky musculature with an air of self-consciousness, a manner that acknowledges one's hunkiness. There isn't a touch of narcissism in this guy's bearing or wardrobe, or any sense that he's checking out others in a critical fashion. So that's pretty cool.
I guess what I'm saying is that there is a charming disjoint between the innocent geeky air this man projects on the outside and the glorious hotness beneath. Were I a different writer, there'd be a porn story somewhere here. Perhaps this is a porn story.
The gentleman in question now reads my livejournal, so let's hope he finds this amusing. But hey, if you hang out with me you become literary fodder for True Tales of the Geekosexual.