As SB was showing me pictures from his holiday back home he pointed out an image of the family at the lake. When he had shown the pictures to Molly, his childhood girlfriend, she had asked who was the muscular guy in the background. "It was me," he crowed while I rolled my eyes.
Last night after the HK Cup, which the US won over Canada by 5-0, I was chatting with one of the Canadian players when SB emerged from the shower, shirt unbuttoned in is his usual post game state because he continues to sweat for hours after physical exertion. The Canadian player is the only person who spends more time shirtless than SB; he is a good looking, young Apollo with a glowing tan and abs that are almost obscene. On the other hand, SB's physique resembles Hasselhoff in the Baywatch days: older and fuzzier but not without his special charm. When SB was young Apollo's age he was a beast but now he has whittled down to a strapping, middle aged man with less hair on top. Or maybe it is just migrating South.
As young Apollo and SB exchanged barbs about each other's physique I caught myself staring at SB. Or to be more specific, I was leering. Young Apollo's visually pleasing, smooth golden-ness doesn't have quite the effect as my mountain man. Cousin Shoils thinks that he may have too much testosterone, and she may be right, but I can't help how my heart goes pitter-patter when he's around me, oozing sweat or testosterone from his pores. I probably ought to get a hold of myself one of these days. I imagine it is quite awkward for SB to be having a conversation with one of his buddies while I am eyeing him like he's a giant chocolate bunny. But I do have a sweet tooth.
Last night after the HK Cup, which the US won over Canada by 5-0, I was chatting with one of the Canadian players when SB emerged from the shower, shirt unbuttoned in is his usual post game state because he continues to sweat for hours after physical exertion. The Canadian player is the only person who spends more time shirtless than SB; he is a good looking, young Apollo with a glowing tan and abs that are almost obscene. On the other hand, SB's physique resembles Hasselhoff in the Baywatch days: older and fuzzier but not without his special charm. When SB was young Apollo's age he was a beast but now he has whittled down to a strapping, middle aged man with less hair on top. Or maybe it is just migrating South.
As young Apollo and SB exchanged barbs about each other's physique I caught myself staring at SB. Or to be more specific, I was leering. Young Apollo's visually pleasing, smooth golden-ness doesn't have quite the effect as my mountain man. Cousin Shoils thinks that he may have too much testosterone, and she may be right, but I can't help how my heart goes pitter-patter when he's around me, oozing sweat or testosterone from his pores. I probably ought to get a hold of myself one of these days. I imagine it is quite awkward for SB to be having a conversation with one of his buddies while I am eyeing him like he's a giant chocolate bunny. But I do have a sweet tooth.
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