Sunday, 14 October 2007

Cavewoman Mentality

I have previously mentioned my overwhelming lust for the very large, but incredibly cute, rugby player Joe Worsley but I have to admit to another fantasy, much deeper and darker which, quite frankly, I find rather puzzling.

I have this peculiar attraction to some of the sporting world's bad guys. Vast, hulking, brooding, dangerous men with fire in their eyes and evil on their minds. Despite my determined attempts to obliterate the pictures in my head, I can't help but imagine what it would be like to be the object of their desire: tiny, naked and exposed before the brutal, unstoppable force of their unrestrained, almost neanderthal lust.

I was reminded of some of my less salubrious mental aberrations during the nail-bitingly exciting, if rather messy (in terms of good rugby), England semi-final with France yesterday: my inexplicable fascination with the huge, hairy French backrow forward, Sebastien Chabal, 'affectionately' nicknamed 'Caveman' by some.

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I don't know why, I can't explain it. He's not exactly the prettiest specimen of manhood I've ever seen but there is just something about him. Something that appeals to my baser instincts. Seeing him here on youtube, you can see he is a violent man. Passionate about what he believes in and willing to fight to the death to achieve it.

He is, quite obviously, a very frightening prospect, who must provoke gut wrenching terror in the opposing team's players towards whom he is running, intent on prohibiting their progress. Depicted on French Spitting Image in a Hannibal Lector-type mask to enable Bernard Laporte, the national coach to control his inherent animal urges and then facing down the New Zealand Haka last weekend with that confrontational, provocative disdain which imbued itself to the rest of his team mates as they nullified the effects of the traditional Maori intimidatory salute, I am not alone in recognising that this man is a force to be reckoned with.

And yet, I have the strongest desire to be the recipient of the most primal of his lusts and let him do with me what he will. There's something about all that naked testosterone, simmering on the brink of explosion, teetering precariously between glory or self-destruction. The flowing hair and the huge beard. A great black bear of a man wrapping himself protectively and dominantly around my tiny white person.

Could it be that, at their most basic level, my instincts are looking for some form of protector? Am I naturally programmed to gravitate to the most dangerous man in the pack, the one who will save me from any other aggressor and yet be a savage master himself? Or is it that, subconsciously, I would like to be the one to tame him?



Gypsy said...

I have always loved a BAD boy and can appreciate the bod but honey, he looks like an axe murderer to me.

Anonymous Boxer said...

I think on some level we all want the biggest Caveman, you know?

It's as old as dirt.

Anonymous said...

I'd do him.

I know what attracts me to the bad boys and the Alpha Males - it's partly arrogance, and partly self-interest. I want someone as strong as me, someone to pit my wits against, and someone who isn't going to rely on me. I want someone who can fight his way through the forest and wrestle a wild boar into submission on his own, without my support. I don't want to tame the savage beast: I need him to recognise my savage beast.

Gorilla Bananas said...

Your instincts are just telling you that you want to have his baby. You don't really need his protection and would get bored if you had to live with him. But it makes sense to have one of his in your brood.

Peach said...

weirdly I think he's hot too