Everyone’s doin’ it. I tend to try to avoid bandwagons, but what the hell. In honor of the utterly decontextualized St. Patrick’s Day, here are a few of the products of the Emerald Isle that I’m always happy to see more of.
My favorite Irish lad, by a long shot, is Cillian Murphy. The moment I saw him in 28 Days Later, I was instantly in love. He lit up the bleak, post-apocalyptic landscape like a spotlight. He was naked, vulnerable, fierce and simply stunning to watch.
It’s true, I lust after Cillian, but I must confess, I also have a crush on him. If I ever had the opportunity to look into those fluorescent blue eyes, I’m sure I’d fall into them and drown.
He plays an insane sadist really well, which is a serious turn on for me (talk amongst yourselves). Whether he’s driving people crazy in Batman or playing nasty mind games with random strangers in Red Eye, I love his use of his mesmerizing, transparent, ice blue eyes as cover for a sick and twisted heart. Being emotionally captured by Cillian does not preclude me from having a strong desire to see him suplexed and scissored. But I just can’t bring myself to picture anyone else tussling with him other than me.
Running a close second behind Cillian is actor-now-director Stuart Townsend. Playing the vampire Lestat in leather pants is pretty much guaranteed to catapult a hunk into iconic status in my mind (unless your initials are T.C., then you’re mostly just a dick).
There’s something fundamentally sexual about Stuart. He oozes sensuality. He must be touched, smelled, tasted… thrown into a sweat-soaked camel clutch until he submits in body and soul.
And Stuart is also aging really, really well.
Irish hot-head Jonathan Rhys Meyers has already made two appearances in my fictional wrestling fantasies, with mixed results. Jonathan can convince me that he really is King Henry VIII, despite being an Irish boy who looks absolutely nothing like the ginger, portly despot (sorry, my English friends). Jonathan sells this story with the attitude that suggests he’s used to playing the bully.
Which is exactly what makes him ideal for a wrestling fantasy. Well, that, and his hard little body that demands to be beaten severely and promises to keep coming back for more.
My final favorite Irish lad is, I realize, #1 for many other people. Colin Farrell is the perpetual naughty boy of Hollywood. His tats are quite beautiful. His big brown eyes are gorgeous. He has a classically handsome face. He’s displayed his well-endowed erect cock for the world to take a gander. I think he even has a gay brother that he’s vocally supportive of. Still, he only comes in behind Jonathan and Stuart and a mile behind Cillian in my affections. He’d make a great babyface heel, but he’s been so overexposed that I’m just not drawn to him… as much as the aforementioned beauties. Not that I would kick him out of bed, or turn down the opportunity to have him deliver some sadistic low blows in the ring. Bring it on, Colin. Take our best shot.
Happy, hunky St. Patrick’s Day, everyone.
Sidelineland 