Investigating Desire

Through an affliction of disorganisation I managed to miss the London Lesbian and Gay Film Festival the past few years. This year I made sure to book some tickets and was lucky enough to see some gems like Patrik 1,5 (which of course I had to see not least for the gorgeously fuzzy lead actors!), An Englishman in New York, Ghosted, Bi The Way and Fuera de Carta (Chef's Special), a wonderful Almodóvar-style farce that even featured the lovely Lola Dueñas from Almodóvar's Volver (To Return).

I also managed to get a last minute ticket for Investigating Desire, a series of short films about male intimacy that were deliciously explicit to the point of bordering on pornography. While a couple of the shorts were perhaps a little too high-brow for me I particularly enjoyed the first and last films, No Strings Attached (about a Dutch cruiser on the prowl) and The Window, a delightful 5 minute comedy about discarding inhibitions and the joy of exposing your body and soul to the world!

While trying not to fall asleep through one of the more intellectual shorts I started to notice what sounded like someone having a crafty tug a few rows behind me... My initial thought was, surely not! This is the NFT after all, not some filthy peep show! I know Londoners are quite liberal and little shocks or inhibits them, but this...? To my mild horror the gentle slapping sound resumed every so often through the next few films. My rational mind was saying this couldn't be possible, at least not with the ushers watching the audience from the back of the theatre and besides, I couldn't be the only one hearing this.

I tried to inconspicuously crane my neck around to catch the suspected todger tugger in the act but in the dim cinema lighting I never quite managed to discover the source of this most unusual distraction. In the end I decided that it was perhaps the no holds barred content having an arousing effect on my imagination or even my own subconscious desire that needed some investigation. At least by then the explosive finish in The Window certainly left me awake and aroused enough to want to resume more familiar inspection duties! :)

Beardy boys

There's something to be said for the sight of a gorgeous beard on a man, which can make even the hardiest of fur inspectors quiver with delight. I've always been a face man, often drawn to men's eyes and facial hair before noticing their other fine features. Besides, facial hair often hints at other hairy bits that could be in need of inspection... ;)

The Husband was recently experimenting with different beard lengths to find something that worked well as a fuller beard. I've often asked him not to trim his beard too short (i.e. stubble) as it's a gorgeous reddish brown colour when grown longer! :) Along with the experimenting he also wanted to give his beard a more defined edge around the neck line. Out came the beard trimmer and he soon had a lovely tidy bit of face fur.

There are so many variations of beard style but I tend to prefer a more classical look that's a little longer than stubble. Of course, stubble is also enormously sexy on most men but I'm quite glad to see more men sporting fuller beards these days. Slightly scruffy beards can look sexy too, perhaps if the fella has long enough hair, like Hugh Jackman, to go with the whole look. For me, a beard definitely looks better when it's tidy and has a neatly trimmed edge to better frame the often very handsome fella's face... :) I also like the way stubble and especially beards can enhance a fella's masculine features.

Speaking of beard trimming, I'm reminded of my first date with The Husband all those years ago. Our mutual friends had arranged for the four of us to meet in a local café. When I stepped into the shop and found their table I was immediately struck by The Future Husband's amazingly blue eyes. I also noticed with a touch of sadness that he'd shaved off his lovely beard. All I'd seen of him before our date was an online photo from some months before, where he was sporting a goatee. Our unwitting friends had convinced him to shave his beard the night before to appear as youthful as possible for our first encounter. Little did they know that as a novice fur inspector I adored fuzzy looks even then.

Nevertheless, the date went swimmingly and we decided to meet again that night at a club. Later that evening we were outside cuddling to keep warm in the slightly chill night air. Along with discovering so many likeable aspects of each other we soon came to discussing fuzzy features and my love of them. The Husband said how naked he'd felt being clean shaven for the first time in years. More cuddling ensued and I quickly convinced him that he should grow his beard again — I could then give him a more thorough inspection! :) Besides, there were better forms of nakedness we could explore in the meantime... ;) and thankfully The Husband has never been clean shaven since!

Cub Addicts Anon

<daydream> "Hello, my name is ____ and I'm a muscle cub addict..." </daydream> Yes, your fur inspector may have to enrol in such a support group. Over the last week I've found myself following some rather cute cubs on Twitter simply because of their beardy looks rather than their witty tweets. At that point I realised this might be construed as stalking behaviour in polite company. Then The Husband pointed out that I do the same on Facebook, by poking my friends' fuzzy friends and hoping for a return poke or more! ;)

Some of the beardy tweeters I happened upon do sometimes have witty and interesting things to say anyway (e.g. "all the best stuff is in aisle 6..."), so perhaps this isn't such a vain exercise after all. (I wish my local Waitrose had these...!)

Perhaps such following and poking speaks more to the ways we try to find and make new friends these days through various online media and social networking sites. It could also be a good way to find new fur inspection candidates! :D

Manscaping, blogscaping

As an experienced and ever eager fur inspector I'm always on the lookout for new inspection opportunities, so I'm quite thrilled that beardy and fuzzy looks have been en vogue over the last few years.  This of course means there's been a greater focus on male grooming as well.

Some men, like my mate P, are hairy to the point where they feel some serious clipper action is needed, though thankfully P believes in keeping some fur available for budding inspectors :-D and potential husbands.  Even hirsutely challenged fellas like myself sometimes resort to a little manscaping to keep the shrubbery tidier.  Of course, if one has fur that just tends to grow to a naturally well-groomed state, so much the better!

So to continue with the theme of grooming I decided to find a suitable title image for this blog.  After a few hours of perusing potential inspection candidates (it was long, hard, sweaty work... really!) I found one that I'm sure you'll agree is an exquisite example of natural fur perfection.

Weapons of mass distraction

Pretty boys really need licenses to wield their beauty... and my gym locker room really needs a neon sign just near the entrance that says "warning, distraction ahead!", especially when said pretty boy is unwittingly getting changed just as an easily distracted fella like me enters the locker room.

I'm usually distracted by beardy and fuzzy guys but this morning as I stepped into the men's locker room my eyes locked onto the finely chiselled body of an exquisitely well proportioned, smooth and classically handsome man whom I'd never seen before.  As I made my way across the locker room, past one of the low benches dotted around the room, I also tried to steer around another fella who had his back to me while buttoning his shirt.  All the while my eyes never left the divine form of the heavenly fella on the far side of the room until my reverie was broken with the sudden and very audible sound of my shoulder crashing into the shirt-buttoning fella's slightly ajar locker door!

Of course, if my gaze hadn't been so sharply focused (and my brain had been a little more engaged in the act of obstacle negotiation) I might have seen the offending locker door on the bounds of my peripheral vision and stepped aside with tai chi inspired grace and balance...  All I could do was slink into my preferred corner of the changing room and realise that if the other fellas didn't suspect I fancy men, they probably did now.  Mortifying as the experience was, I soon brushed the embarrassment aside and continued to savour the rapturous memory of this wonderful stranger's form for the rest of the day.