Hugh is his name. Hughshka, I call him. A ginger bear, my first. Well, actually my first-and-a-half if we count my unconsummated hometown crush. We were born on the same day. We both drive Priuses, both raised in the south, both tea drinkers, both seekers of profound and meaningful connections, both Newshour viewers, both lost sisters to cancer, and so eerily similar in so many other ways that it feels like dating a red-haired bigger hairier slightly younger maybe a little balder version of myself. I’m so completely mesmerized by his electric orange pubic hair. It’s like looking at a color negative, psychedelic radiance where there should be shadow…
But of course my attraction to him isn’t just about being so perfectly suited for each other and not because as my new muse he presents such a lushly verdant landscape for this photographer’s visual exploration… It’s because, well, first of all, he’s stunningly attractive, but no, that’s not the first thing. Yes, he’s gorgeous, but his genuine desire for a deep connection is both thrilling and a relief. Like, finally, someone I find fetching who values the same things. And the ways that we are not similar are also appealing… like his interest in Star Wars and Marvel Comics. We saw Captain Marvel with his delightfully geeky Marvel friends. Hughshka has provided his film buddies with lanyards, and at each film they see together, he presents them with new commemorative pins related to the film. I was so touched by the playful sweetness of the gesture. A complete neophyte, I was in awe of his friends’ mastery of all the technical aspects and interconnected narrative strands in the Marvel Universe, as well as their rigorous critical analysis. At dinner one of the group asked dismissively, “I mean, who HASN’T seen Deadpool?” I tried not to make eye contact, nervously thinking “That was a Marvel thing?” vaguely remembering skipping over the New York Times review. I want a lover who will lead me into unexplored territory. So the Marvel-verse it is.