BECAUSE I’m a guest in a home with kids, I spend most of my time watching men in tights on Netflix.
Spider-Man, Superman, Ant-Man, the likes.
I’m watching them again to pass the time because these movies don’t demand so much.
I mean, I’ve seen these movies before.
***
I mean, if I dozed off, I wouldn’t really miss anything.
I mean, if I don’t finish the movie, I wouldn’t really miss much.
Besides, the movies entertain the kids.
And this time, I could really admire the costumes.
***
Here’s my day like in Vancouver this week:
I write a little bit before lunch.
And I eat at least three lunches everyday.
I nap a little bit, if nothing exciting is planned.
I might play a movie to usher me to drowsiness.
Hit pause before I’m totally knocked out.
***
Being at home makes me eat all the time that I’m awake.
Fruits: blueberries, strawberries, apples, avocados, cherries, bananas.
There’s always cake: left overs, new batches, gifts, take homes.
There’s coffee, coffee, coffee.
***
There’s lechon from some party.
There’s lechon paksiw from the leftover lechon.
There’s adobo, there’s chicken wings.
Spam, eggs, bacon, tocino, longganiza.
There’s a Vancouver conspiracy to fatten me like a pig!
***
Yesterday, I noticed my grown belly.
I can call this Covid-belly.
Or it could just be laziness.
Or old age.
Discussing my potbelly with friends, I say this is well-earned in our 50s.
But still, I feel I need to trim this belly down, at the very least.
***
My 50-is-the-new-sexy group is all agreed that it’s almost impossible to get rid of our pot/beer belly.
I tend to agree.
I mean, look what happened to a friend who tried to catch up with the sexy, no-belly younger boyfriend.
Dead at 45!
***
I mean, Seriously!
It’s fun and fine to try to be fit in your later years.
But if it means depriving yourself of your comfort and favorite foods, what kind of life is that?
If it means hours in the gym, and miles on the road just to catch up with your younger boyfriend, eff that!
***
When I watch men in tights, I enjoy them.
I don’t wish I would be fit like them.
I don’t want to be young like them.
I no longer wish to be a superhero like them.
In fact, they all teach me that trying to save the world is an impossible mission.
***
Peter Parker may not have Gwen Stacy or Mary Jane Watson.
Clark Kent may not have Lois Lane.
I mean, what’s the point of being so sexy in tights when you can’t even be in bed with the ones you like?
***
I don’t like superhero stories because they are neat.
I watch the movies because of the spectacle, the action, the special affects.
But superhero stories do not make me tingle deep down inside.
Occasionally, a scene may impress me; but a scene doesn’t make a story.
***
When I watch movies with men in tights, I watch the men in tights.
I pay attention to the tights.
Because, hey, I can watch men in the nude, if I want to.
***
Superhero movies are good if you don’t want to think much about life.
It’s all about adrenaline for me.
Fight or flight response.
Action now, think later.
***
But perhaps, all these men-in-tights movies now is a sign of aging for me.
Like, what if I don’t want to be thinking much anymore?
What if I just want some action?
***
I used to rationalize sex, and plan its occurrence and happenstance.
I worried about diseases, intimacy issues, Catholic guilt, et cetera.
Now, I just think how we should be grateful if we still can have it in our 50s.
***
My friends tell me my ideas about sex are so right on.
Younger people admire my perspective on sex, and having it with so much fun and pleasure.
Older people are a bit scandalized, but they so agree with me.
All in all, I enjoy my position as a sex positive person.
And I am so glad to affect people’s lives so sex positively./PN
