Men Who Are Too Beautiful (That We’d Fuck Anyway)By John Calendo / Monday, December 25th, 2006
And a partridge in a pear tree…
Here then are our 12 Men of Christmas.
Get out of your scorecards, kids. Just as we did last year when we graded awful guys, we’re making a list and checking it twice. In our annual countdown of unlikely mugs we’d fuck anyway, we thought we’d present those Men Who Are Too Beautiful.
You know who they are: Heart-stoppers. Humdingers. All-around impossible beauties. (like soap actor, Victor Weber at top.)
You just know these boys would be soooo bad for you. It would be Me, Myself and Fabulous I 24/7, 365. Wherever you went, he’d be sucking up the oxygen and you’d be “the boyfriend,” the obstacle, the pixilated love slave.
It would be … terrible!
But we are nothing if not Angels of Mercy, isn’t that right boys? Would we not float — float — right down from our perch high atop the Christmas tree and deal with the fucker? Would we not practice our life long avocation of Amateur Therapist at Large?
So here they are now on our coach. As we did last year, we will be grading on the Dick Index: Dick as in Impossible Person and Dick as in Hot Cock.
And so with 12 drummers drumming, we –
Kill the drums, first the caveat: As we pointed out last year, we donâ€™t know if these babes are gay, straight or willing to fuck anything with a pulse. Frankly, we donâ€™t care. These are our fantasies. This is about what we want, not what they want!
Let the mistletoe garlanding commence:
Day 1, the Partridge
You didn’t really think we were going to pick Danny Bonaduce, now didya?
The man behind the wraparounds is the extravagantly, the im-possibly beautiful Jared Koronkiewicz (how’s that for a mouthful?)
And like the partridge in the Christmas carol, Jared is a man we would keep coming back to. Yes indeed. No matter how nasty he was to us.
And you know — you know – he’d be nasty. Just take a peek, below, at what’s behind those limousine black glasses.
Koronkiewicz (okay, all together now — Kor Ronk Cue Wicks) is an American model, and beyond that we know nothing. He has not left a Google trail. There isn’t one half-truth out there about him that we could worry to death into a salacious tidbit, suitable to our listing him here.
Still, trust your eyes.
Peruse that beautiful face with its subliminal scowl of cruelty. A little ancestral trace of Attila the Hun went into the making of this Christmas package.
Like many a handsome man in dark glasses, he is a mystery who may be holding back … nothing.
Impossibility Score: Could you imagine waking up beside this every morning? Or bringing him to the office Christmas party where that drunken lout with the football chest and a flotilla of kid photos on his desk would — ah vino, ah, veritas — make a play for him? It would be Straight-Jacket City, and you know it. No, the crazy-making index on this one is way high. We give him a full-on 10.
Hot Dick Score: Just to be on this list, the default is 10. Get used to that number. You’re going to see a lot of it as we go along.
FINAL TALLY: 10/10
Day 2, the Turtle Dove
Clive Owen has been on our radar ever since he made Croupier and rage-fucked that chick on the kitchen floor.
He makes debonair look hot, in a way even Cary Grant never did. (Not that the fantabulous Cary ever wanted to. Different times, different sex strategies. In Cary’s day, it was cool to be cool.)
Publicity shots of Clive usually show him with his tie loosened or with a heavy five-o’clock shadow. The message: I’m a regular Joe, upmarket version.
Certainly he is not perfect like the pleasantly antiseptic Hugh Grant. There’s a rugged, lived-in manliness to Owen’s face, something wary and pensive and hangdog that competes with, but doesn’t quite defeat, his overwhelming male beauty.
In a sense, this is a list of great man-faces, rather than great man bodies. Polls in the U.K repeatedly named Owen as their favorite to play the next James Bond. As we know, a body — certainly not a face — won out in that race.
Clive remains the subtlest of impossible beauties: His masculine perfection is masquerading behind the Average Joe routine. His shtick is to pretend to be ordinary, which may account for why he is not quite the superstar he should be.
We understand that he is happily married with two children. That makes him impossible enough.
Impossibility Score: a slight, but wistful 7. (You will be ours, Clive! You will!).
Hot Dick Score: 10, natch.
FINAL TALLY: 7/10
Day 3, the French Hen
You didn’t think we were actually going to pick a Frenchmen. That would be so predictable, so … straight, for lack of a more stinging put-down.
Certainly if we had, picked a Frenchie it would have been Julien Arias — but we already, and just recently, examined his breathtaking Gallicness in semiotic Parisian detail.
Here instead is Josh Wald.
Here then is a paradox: Josh Wald is a man whose pictures are all over the web, who has LOVE tattooed across his back, who is covered with about five too many tattoos for any grown man, certainly for any runway model.
A man who is the darling of the gay-guy web –
And yet a man about whom there is no — repeat — no substantial information beyond two reverently repeated facts:
- a) he is a professional skateboarder — whatever the hell that is, and
- b) he was born in 1979 (like that’s suppose to tell us something!)
For all we know, he may even be French! Related distantly to General Lafayette, or Adrienne Barbeau.
Then we would actually end up with a French … certainly not hen. A rooster. A cock of the walk. Yes that would just about set us right.
In any case, we giftwrapped this package for you because we need a little skin right about here. And, gosh, even in a bulky sweater right up to his neck, the man looks naked
Impossibility Score: He seems to be a person who it is impossible to know. That should send you around that final bend should you ever fall directly under his orbit. We give him a raging 9.
Hot Dick Score: You know it. 10.
FINAL TALLY: 9/10
Day 4, the Calling Bird
Perhaps the most chilling line in all of Horror Moviedom is the nightmarish “Yes, we’ve traced the call… it’s coming from inside the house.” Babysitter, homicidal maniac, you get the picture ( When a Stranger Calls )
Certainly the funniest was recited by Ryan Reynolds in Blade Trinity (movie still at left): “Her name is Danica Talos. You met her earlier. And unlike typical vampires, her fangs are located in her vagina.”
Well, we just called to say we love you, Ryan.
The comic timing, the timber of the voice and — Jesus, that bod! Reynolds stands out in this list because in his case the perfection of the body overwhelms that of the face.
And yet it’s the easy-going blank canvas of the face that makes him so impossible to behold. The spotlight goes completely to the chest and six-pack, while the face beams over it like a happy- go-lucky sun disc, drawing you closer.
Certainly he drove poor unhinged Alanis Morissette to write the song Everything to him. Last we heard, they’re together, they’re splitting, they’re together again.
Sounds like another express bus to Jagged Little Pill City, hey Alanis?
A forthcoming Reynolds release is called Chaos Theory. Need we say more?
Impossibility Score: He looks easy-going and regular, but then he is an actor and a jokester. We give him a 7.
Hot Dick Score: He has one. That’s all we need to know. 10.
FINAL TALLY: 7/10
Day 5, the Golden Ring
In or out of the ring, John Cena could wrestle us to the ground anytime, anywhere.
We know menacing looking mugs like this are not to everyone’s taste. But then we’re not everyone.
Besides, he’s a pro-wrestling star, one of Vince McMahon’s boys. It’s all showbiz, kids.
In fact, a friend of Nightcharm compares the over-the-top spectacle of TV wrestling to the big-gestured blowziness of certain balls-out Italian operas — the ones that even Italians refer to as Woperas.
Every night on one of your down-market local stations, World Wrestling Entertainment gives you a front-row seat on vendettas, family feuds, muscle-building girlfriends climbing into the ring and duking it out with the women from the other side. Welcome to Cavalleria Rusticana, hillbilly style.
And in the midst of this buffoonery, there stands a piece of work like John Cena!
Cena plays one of those wrestling archetypes that fans love to boo. An arrogant, cocksure hardass that swaggers his way to championships over WWE golden boys and prompts the fans — jarringly gullible fans — to hold up signs with all but profanity-laced legends like this particularly memorable one: “IF CENA WINS, THIS PLACE RIOTS!”
In keeping with his role, Cena tauts the audience into a frenzy. Among his signature tauts are: waving his hand in front of his face, horizontally, to mean “You can’t see me!”, elaborately pumping up his Reebok sneakers after the bell rings, meaning “When I’m ready, assholes,” and victorious military salutes to the audience, intended to mock them.
And you wonder why we love this impossible fucker!
Impossibility Score: We give the champ a 10.
Hot Dick Score: Oh come on. That’s a dick face if we ever saw one. 10 with a red cherry on top.
FINAL TALLY: 10/10
Day 6, the Goose a-Laying:
And here is yet another model with a breathtaking face.
If you had to guess place of origin for this face, where would you say? Verona, perhaps, with those uplifted Caravaggio eyes and lips?
Or Paris, where such rose-lusciousness is encountered quite casually, while shopping the flea market or walking the quays.
How about Texas, pardner?
Parker Gregory was born and raised in — of all places — Houston … where if the boys look anything like this, they certainly don’t have a problem.
He is of Irish and Sicilian heritage, which would explain the perfect storm of stupefying flawlessness in his face and body. Though there was little but a trail of photos on the web to guide us, we did unearth an interview with the young Parker from last year. At age 20, he sounds remarkably teenage.
His concerns are those you might find on any MySpace page. It’s all sweetness and light and a heart of gold — with as yet no awareness of what an improbable person he is. Of what it means to to be born an impossibly beautiful godling.
And so we learn such touchingly moronic factoids as his sign (Sagittarius), his favorite things (muscle cars, Superman movies and “my family”) and what he likes to do in his spare time (eating, sleeping and “following the carpenter.”) We assume he’s not talking about Restoration Hardware.
Praise the Lord, it is Texas after all. Which is why we gave him the goose spot in our carol to beautiful men.
Geese are skittish little creatures, hurrying out of the way at the first provocation with a shudder of feathers. Certainly, the way Parker became a model seems timid. “A friend of our family is a model and one day while we were out in Houston, she took me in to meet her agent.” No sense of the glamorous destiny that is truly this beautiful boy’s birthright.
In fact, when asked where he saw himself in 10 years (“By God’s good graces, I will have a set career along with a loving family of my own”), the answer suggested he would be only too happy to leave the daily competition of modeling and settled down as a nice if entirely too heart-stopping bank manager.
Impossibility Score: God this guy is so straight. And — may we be frank? — what a waste that is! Score here is a disgruntle 8.
Hot Dick Score: Sweetness and light all he wants, we know the truth. 10.
FINAL TALLY: 8/10
Day 7, the Swan a-Swimming
The swan has to be Brad, of course.
The most beautiful man on earth married to the most beautiful woman in the galaxy. You want more impossible than that?
We have tried to be clever and unexpected in our choices. But there’s no way of getting around the Mt. Everest of beauty that is Brad Pitt.
Without him, this list would be ambitious, amusing — yes, all that — but a sham, marked by the glaring omission of the obvious.
The best we could do was choose an oddball shot — Brad in outrageous infinity sunglasses and Mondrian-print miniskirt. Anything more official would be overkill. We all have this face acid-etched on our brainpans by now.
But behold: Even in this Tea Dance on Fire Island, high-summer of a getup, there’s no concealing the authority of that pitch-perfect face. Again, we are reduced to a simple WOW.
Shall we just cut right to the chase?
Impossibility Score: 10, what else?
Hot Dick Score: A lovely, shaped in the form of the Bishop chess piece, 10
FINAL TALLY: 10/10
Day 8, the Milkman a-Milking
And if Brad is here, can Colin be far behind?
You’d have to reach back to Errol Flynn to get this much mischief in one devilish Black Irish face.
And mischief is the raison dâ€™Ãªtre of this guy’s life. Babes, booze and bucks — it doesn’t get any better than that in Straight Boy Heaven.
The perfect dirty boy, Colin is the dark side of Brad Pitt. Where Brad is all sunny blond smiles, Colin radiates shadow in depth. Shadow in 3-D.
All this is very effective on screen, though Colin seems to see acting as just his day job. The main event is a wild ride of a life.
In this too he resembles Flynn. Of course, times being what they are, rehab was always in the cards. But not before Farrell became most famous — as one waggish site put it — for “keeping Irish stereotypes alive.”
A suppressed fuck tape (Colin and a Playboy model) keeps surfacing in Bit-Torrentville, despite a court injunction against it.
And Colin had to take out a restraining order against one telephone sex operator who became obsessed with him, showing up during a taping of the Tonight Show, accusing the star of harassing her “with foul messages” and finally being strong-armed out of the theater, kicking and screaming.
Going kicking and screaming crazy over Colin is something we can sympathize with, as this delightful dirtbag has long figured in many a gay man’s most devout fantasies.
That woman, by the way, has since self-published a book which, if she is reading this, Nightcharm would love to review. Title: Colin Farrell: A Dark Twisted Puppy. Oddly, it is not available on Amazon.
Impossibility Score: The max, baby. The max. 10.
Hot Dick Score: Right off the scale. If we could give him a 20 we — hey, this is Nightcharm, we can do anything we want. 20!
FINAL TALLY: 10/20
Day 9, the Dancing Lad
Rafael Verga is too blindingly beautiful to be allowed to step in front of a camera. And when he does, the camera makes love to him so vigorously, they should really go find a hotel room and get it off the street.
Could the blue of the sea compete with the delicate teal of those eyes?
This man should come with a warning: Safety glasses required at all times.
We are no strangers to Verga damage. Faithful readers will remember we went officially nuts over this guy in a a Nightcharm entry last March.
We tried then, we really did, to say something smart and wry and oh so sophisticated. We were soon dropped to our knees and struck silly by the beauty glare. We had no option but to gush, babble, and blather like shameless teenagers.
We doubt we will do much better now.
Thing is Rafael is another stunning man with a long trail of photos on the web but no real information.
So we must let it rip and ask once again what in God’s name is going on in Brazil? What are they putting in the water, the air, the Orange Smoothees that keeps turning out men as passionate and lush looking as this masterpiece?
Look at that body. Apollo comes to mind. The proportions, the understated indenting of the musculature, the civilized size of the muscles themselves, just enough, not too much. This is what perfection looks like, kids.
Here’s all we know really. He makes our pulse dance, our heart rumba, our soul salsa, does Rafael.
Was it Keats who said — there we go, being smart and high-brow again — “Beauty is truth; truth, beauty. That is all we know on earth, and all we need to know.”
Earth is a breathtaking place, no?
Impossibility Score: How could you bare looking at him, let alone loving him? 10.
Hot Dick Score: Seeing is believing. A nice juicy 10
FINAL TALLY: 10/10
Day 10, the Lord a-Leaping
The break-out star of the new 2007 Dieux Du Stade calendar is turning out to be rugby captain Sean Lamont. And this is the showstopping picture that did it.
“Oh my God, is that my penis, ” he is supposed to have said when he saw the photo.
The Dieux Du Stade calendar, which usually features only French players, had invited the Scottish captain to come over as a guest nude.
“I did something similar when I was at university,” Lamont told the Scottish Daily Record. “But this time it was definitely a bit more ropey.”
Lamont had tried to keep the photo shoot quiet but one of his teammates, who plays in France, found out and circulated the calendar around the locker room, to the great merriment of all. Except, or so he claims, Lamont.
“I was very surprised at the shots they actually used,” he told the Daily Record with apparent regret. “And one was a bit more shocking than the others, ”
Oh, shocking my eye! Frankly, we find this mealy-mouthed backtracking deplorable. A dynamite ass and a plump shchlong are nothing to be embarrassed by, just the opposite. It’s all pretend homophobia so the boys on the team won’t think their rugged captain is soft on the poofters.
This is a man whom the Wikipedia described thusly: “His explosive, powerful running and size are his most deadly assets. To put into words ‘He is a tank.’” We doubt anyone will ever question the ability of this “tank” to flatten the opposition.
Not only did Lamont know what he was doing — and a proud display it is — he appeared in the Dieux Du State DVD, taking a full-frontal shower! Now the whole world knows what’s been wagging under those Highlander kilts.
Impossibility Score: High 10.
Hot Dick Score: That is one lovely uncut whopper you got there, guy. 10
FINAL TALLY: 10/10
Day 11, the Piper
Brent Van Zant has by now been enshrined as one of the great male beauties in the gay blogosphere — thanks in large part to a series of shots he did for near-transparent fetish underwear. (See below.)
The mild face, killer chest and casually revealed cock in the now famous jock-sock have made him standard viewing every few months for a new crop of fans who discover him on one site or another.
Just as there are certain singers and stars no one else has taken the time to relish but who seem to speak to the heart of gay men, Brent is one of our great cult models.
Like the Pied Piper, he radiates charisma to our specialized wavelength and so we follow him as effortlessly as adoring children.
It is fitting then that he should come from a place with as unreal, as impossible a name as Paradise — yes Paradise in prosaic, sunshiny California. Is that how they grow them in Paradise? Is Brent just a boy next door there?
He has since moved to the rather dowdy sounding Hermosa Beach. “It’s a shorts and flip-flops kind of place,” he says of his earthbound home, which suits the laid back, always copacetic van Zant just fine.
Why then do we imagine such a balanced sweetheart would be an impossible beauty? We guess it’s because of the extreme nature of that beauty. The chest, the six-pack seems something more than natural. They seem … well, they seem paradisaical!
Impossible? Oh yes. As our own Tennessee Williams wisely observed, “Beautiful people make their own laws.” And so we suspect it is with Brent.
In our long meditation on beauty today, in the great carol we have sung to these men, Brent stands out as the ur-type: Beautiful, a bit blank, and yet full of meaning to those who fall under his spell. As with all our men here, there is something deeply intimate in our silent contemplation of these images, something soul-to-soul.
Do we write purple? Yes we write purple. To write purple is no sin when Paradise looks like this.
Impossibility Score: Do such creatures really walk the earth? And yet seem so warm, so human? 9
Hot Dick Score: We haven’t t been completely jarred our of our senses. 10, of course. 10!
FINAL TALLY: 9/10
Day 12, the Drummer
The Drummer is our mystery slot.
The slot that each Christmas we leave open to make room for the beauty that the new year will bring.
We can’t help ourselves really. We fall in love so easily. Blame it on our youth.
And we Nightcharmers, you and I, are young.
To stay in touch with beauty is to cheat somehow the grinding down of time. To stay gold, despite what the poet says.
Beauty — it’s a little bit of immortal stuff that falls to earth … And falls quite regularly.
Each season new boys. New night charms.
The impossibility score will always clock in at a 7 or better. And the Hot Dick Index — depend on it to be 10.
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