Taking the lid off Pandora's Box: #WetJamesFranco and celibacy

Blame it on #WetJamesFranco, an entity that I created solely to deal with my reaction to photographs from the actor James Franco‘s new Gucci campaign.  One of my friends posted a link to Facebook or Twitter or something like that and I haven’t been able to stop drooling since.  Or thinking about sex.

Photo courtesy of http://hollywooddame.com. And God. Thank you both.

Ordinarily I ogle photos of near-naked celebrities for sport.  Just because I’m celibate doesn’t mean I’m dead and/or blind.  And everyone needs eye candy, particularly during the winter months when all you see are people’s bulky outwear and the tips of their noses.  Except for the young fellows in my neighborhood who still insist on showing their thermal underwear under extremely low-slung trousers.  Looking at them isn’t appealing; it just makes me feel cold and sad.  Enter #WetJamesFranco at exactly the right time, all cheekbones, pouty lips, sinewy muscles and clingy t-shirt.  To be perfectly honest, writing this blog with the photo on the left visible is raising my blood pressure.  I’ve always thought the actor James Franco was pretty, and he was very funny on SNL making fun of himself in the very ad campaign currently getting my knickers in a twist.  But there’s nothing like a wet shirt clinging to a man’s perfectly formed pecs to move him from “aw, that’s pretty” to sex on a stick.  #WetJamesFranco has become, to me, an entity completely separate from the actor from whom I’ve never gotten such a strong reaction.  Ok, so his skin looks a little too airbrushed, but the contrast in the black & white film, the textures of the dripping clothes and, well, the wetness have made me a little obsessed with #WetJamesFranco.  Since seeing the photo shown on the left, I have rediscovered a host of feminine stirrings, yearnings, and urges.  I am horny!!! Gulp…

I haven’t seen a naked man in a while, and it really didn’t bother me much. Until now.  I should probably let #WetJamesFranco off the hook a little bit because my brain has been focused on sex, or at least on the connection between sex and dating and relationships.  I’ve got to contend with my attraction to Friend Boy, who I haven’t even kissed let alone seen naked.  Ok, I have seen pictures of Friend Boy in cycling gear – which doesn’t leave much to the imagination – but I don’t think that really counts for much.  My interest in his spandex was much more to rule out unseemly physical defects than to acquire positive visual stimuli, if you know what I mean.  Nevertheless, I’d completely rejected the idea of coming on to Friend Boy, as that behavior has

The full Gucci Sport ad. Let's take a moment to thank James Franco's parents. And God.

always been the point at which my relationships go all pear-shaped.  I’d convinced my conscious mind to conjure nothing more than a hand-holding situation with Friend Boy. Then I see #WetJamesFranco‘s photos and all of a sudden I’m dreaming about Friend Boy and I rolling around on a couch, unable to keep out hands off each other.  If I had cigarettes when I woke up from that dream, I would’ve smoked them.  Yeah, more than one!

You see, here’s what I think is going on:  my brain and my body are actually working together.  I’ve opened up my rational mind to the possibility of relating to someone romantically.  More amazingly, my rational mind doesn’t associate positive emotions with fear and rejection, as has happened in the past.  I can acknowledge that while I may hope for a romantic outcome in my relationship with Friend Boy, I don’t expect it to happen so I can focus on the enjoyment of actually getting to know him without getting all hemmed up in subterfuge.  And because my brain is enjoying itself, and my heart is a little more open than it usually is, my libido is getting ready to follow along.  Thankfully, the libido is not leading the discussion these days, so I can relegate my x-rated activities to REM sleep while maintaining my actual celibacy.  At least for a while.

It has come to my attention that if Friend Boy actually reads this blog, and our relationship takes an undesirable turn, I may no longer feel so positive about myself.  Perhaps, but a therapeutic breakthrough is a breakthrough.  And I’ll always have #WetJamesFranco.