Well, this is certainly an energetic time of year, when everyone is back at the local universities and colleges, eagerly meeting new people, forming new friendships, reconnecting, soaking up the last rays of sun, hitting the gym with renewed vigor.
The gym has been rejuvenated with a freshly loaded stock of hot bods and cute faces, and while I'm not drooling everywhere, I certainly do notice and appreciate the fresh scenery. Yup, very nice. But the gym is not the place that most sent me back into a slightly kid-in-the-candy-store giddiness I haven't felt for some time. No, it was an entirely different, much less expected setting which nearly uncaged my inner tiger.
OK, I think I'm mostly past the constant knuckle-biting and seeing hot guys everywhere whether or not there are actually hot guys. I've learned to be a little more real about it and not get too easily wooed by a hot bod or a pretty face. But let's be honest, I'm still a guy, and I'm not so old or so blind as to be oblivious.
So I was sitting in the Marriott Center tonight, and yes, I was listening to the talk about trials and Liberty Jail and making the most unlikely places into our own personal temples by sanctifying ourselves and our experiences and yadda yadda yadda, but give me a stinkin' break. I was sitting in a stadium full of fresh, young, clean-cut, wholesome, tanned, well-dressed, approachable, healthy-looking, hormonal people of both genders, many of which happened to be male with really great jaw lines, kind eyes, lean bods, and beautiful...countenances, and I incidentally noticed a couple of really attractive guys. OK, more than a couple. OK, it was like a huge gourmet buffet of hotness. I was sitting there, in the presence of an apostle, sighing at the beauty of many guys within my line of vision, wondering--for no reason I'd actually act on--if any of them might be gay, while listening to the talk about sanctifying our trials. And I laughed at my sometimes comical plight.
This was right after attending a regional conference earlier at which one particular fellow priesthood holder caught my eye. I had laughed then, too, and gone back to listening to the talks. With an occasional glance to see if he was still cute. He was. Oh, stop looking all shocked. I'm a guy, it's what I do. It doesn't mean I'm entertaining lurid fantasies, for goodness' sake. And other gay members of your stake who are worthy priesthood holders do it, too. I know it's upsetting to common conceptions of what a strong, masculine priesthood holder is supposed to be. But just get used to it, Toots.