I Love Jocks
I promised a picture of my hunky softball players weeks ago.
While attending The Politician's party, I had the good fortune to run into Adonis and Hercules. Sometimes I am very shy. However, when confronted with overwhelmingly tight asses and bulging biceps I can overcome my shyness. I asked if I could get a picture with Hercules and Adonis, and they obliged.
Hercules (on the right) and I met back in March of this year while standing in line for the bathroom at the Red Dress Party. We talked for a few minutes about his muscular pecs, which the plunging neckline of his red dress showed off nicely.
No, wait. That's what I was thinking about. I have no idea what we talked about.
Actually, I'm kidding. Hercules was so sweet and friendly, and we chatted about his recent move to Portland. The next time I ran into him was at The Politician's party. In classic Todd form, I had no memory of our first meeting when he asked if we had met before. Then he mentioned moving here from Portland, Maine, it all came rushing back to me. We had another great talk, and we ended up in bed together. Sort of.
I didn't mind that Adonis joined us.
Adonis and Hercules play softball, which is now my new favorite sport. I guess I just have a thing for softball players. Actually, I think I just have a thing for men who play any sports.
I grew up playing sports. My father coached my bowling league, and at the end of the season trophies were awarded to the best players. Even though my dad was the coach, I didn't bowl very well. At the awards dinner, I got a small trophy that said, "I Tried".
I played flag football in first grade and also played softball. The thing is...I sucked. I never really understood flag football. I distinctly remember the one time I caught a pass, I ran the wrong way. Everybody (on my team) was screaming at me. I thought they were cheering. I think my dad shouted from the sidelines and got me to stop running before I scored for the other team.
I have no memories of softball. But I'll bet I sucked.
When I was in the cult (such a GREAT opening sentence) they made me play basketball every Sunday. The goal was to bond with "the brothers", and to become more manly (ie., not gay). I was GREAT at blocking, and I learned that I was tougher than I thought. Once I practically broke my ankle during a game, and I learned to "play through the pain". Not that I had any choice. Harsh reprimands awaited anyone who showed signs of "rebelliousness". So, if your brothers told you to keep playing in spite of the pain in your ankle, you kept playing.
Ahhh. Good times. Let's forget all about that and return to happier thoughts...