I spent Sunday at Loraâ€™s with the DD Squad (my friends from home), gorging myself on her homemade pho and The Transporter 2. The movie turned out to be surprisingly good, and Iâ€™m not a fan of action flicks at all.
Okay, so maybe I was less enamored with the actual film than I was with the male lead. The girls were all in agreement on this one: Jason Statham is hot shit. Iâ€™m not one to entertain celebrity crushes either; my last infatuation was with a Backstreet Boy at age 12, after which I grew out of teenybopper-esque infatuations altogether. But this was before the Transporter. Statham is another breed of man completely. Itâ€™s hard to pinpoint the exact qualities he exudes but his very presence is turn-on â€“ from the accent to the attitude to the stoicism. Mostly though, I think itâ€™s the stoicism. Bullets, bombs, boobs â€“ heâ€™s not fazed by anything.
Basically, I want to have sweaty, stoic sex with Mr. Statham.
That might actually be easier than it sounds. Last spring, I dated a musician whoâ€™s a deadringer for the actor. Not merely a singer, songwriter, and guitarist, Berklee happens to be a fairly passable Statham lookalike, give or take an inch of height and some muscle mass.
Berklee also holds a place on the very short list of guys Iâ€™ve slept with who continue to acknowledge my existence (as someone other than â€œthe self-obsessed Asian feminazi from Harvardâ€ that is). Because he was hands-down the coolest non-Harvardian Iâ€™ve met in Boston, I acted decidedly un-bitchy to him post-involvement. How uncharacteristic of me! Our friendly rapport since then means exchanging the occasional friendly (re: flirtatious) text message. Tonight, friendly (re: suggestive) texting led to a friendly (re: loaded with sexual innuendo) conversation, during which I remembered the first movie I saw Jason Statham in.
A shared memory, it turns out. Sometime last March-ish, Berklee and I rented Snatch. Since I recall the opening sequence but not much else, I can only assume that fantastic sex with the Statham doppelganger prevented me from fully appreciating the screen presence of Statham himself. Kind of a shame. Had I discovered his sexual appeal then, I couldâ€™ve used Berklee for fantasy fulfillment purposes months ago. Now I have to wait until September.
Speaking of which, weâ€™ve been in negotiations for an early September booty call. Iâ€™m hesitant to engage in â€œex sexâ€ since Iâ€™ve only hooked up with an ex once, and that terrible decision caused a decent amount of heartbreak, drama, and estrangement. Then again, that was in high school three years ago and involved a good four or five other parties (it was an incestuous group, okay?) As far as I can tell, there’s no possibility of an equally disastrous result this time around. He can pretend to be the bulletproof, emotionally unavailable badass and I can be that Asian girl thrown over his shoulders. What could possibly go wrong?
For Berkleeâ€™s sake at least, any doubts I’ve had are now more or less eliminated by my reckless hormones. Iâ€™m fairly sure that tonightâ€™s movie selection has sealed the deal for our fall term romp, though what the precise deal encompasses Iâ€™ve yet to decide â€¦