Watching Some of the 2019 Superbowl: A Gay Dude's Perspective
It’s Sunday 6:30 pm, and I’m back from a great first date at the nude beach. (It’s January in Florida, so Haulover Beach clearly beats any coffee shop for a first, get-to-know-you rendezvous.)
Just returning from the adventure, I’m ravenous for food, and I haven’t showered from the beach yet. I heat up and eat some leftovers, and I turn on the game to discover that there’s roughly 3 minutes left in the second quarter.
“Perfect,” I think. “Only about 15 minutes until the halftime show. I’ll wait to take a shower until after it’s over….Maroon 5 is performing, huh? Hmmmm. It’s no Lady Gaga or Beyonce, but maybe it’ll be cool? Good luck Mr. Levine!”
The end of the second quarter arrives and the teams trot into their respective lairs.
“Tied game, huh? It’s anybody’s victory. Must be intense in those locker-rooms right now.”
Then, the show begins! Woo hoo!
My thought process goes a little bit like this:
“Oh, so that’s what Adam Levine looks like right now. His hair is really short. Nice skin.”
More performances, and then BAM, back to Adam Levine and Maroon 5. Only this time, he’s down to a tank top. “Oooh la la! Looking good, Adam! Cool tattoos! …Oh geez, your band-mate’s hair is so long and straight.”
Then more singing about love from Adam Levine, and I can’t help staring at the paid, audience members nearby. I think, ”Interesting! It looks like the producers paid that pair of strangers and that other, elderly pair of strangers to pretend like they are in love! Oh wow! Look at them, they are just holding each other, staring sweetly into each other’s eyes. For others, it’s a big event, but for them, it feels like they’re the only ones in the room.”
And then, before we know it, BOOM! Adam Levine strips off his tank top!
“Oh damn! He went for it. His eyes were saying he was going to do it, and yep. He did it…What a physique! “
I end up thinking, “You definitely have a body to be proud of, so why not. But, Adam, is this the right venue? I mean, it’s an all-male performer halftime show, entertaining the world’s maxed-out-machismo just after these Viking-like warriors are trying to destroy each other on the field. And then you strip down and flaunt your slender and defined physique? Who are you trying to entice? I mean, you look great, don’t get me wrong. No body shaming here. But context matters. Gotta know your audience and whatnot, right? Is this really the best time and venue to strip down? Also, how do your band-mates feel about the move? Supportive? Indifferent? Or are they like, ‘Keep your clothes off, boy! We have bills to pay. More news is more money.’”
So the show ends, and I guess it’s back to the game? Right. Right. The game. We are here to watch a game. It’s Patriots versus the Rams, and personally, I don’t have any vested interest in who wins, so I go to my default option: Rooting for the underdog.
I yell at the screen, “Let’s go Rams! He already has a model wife, he doesn’t need more championships!”
As the game continues, the Patriots start pulling ahead, and their prowess on the field is undeniable.
“Sheesh, that Sony Michele is good!…And that Edelman is so fast and strong. I wonder if his beard gets itchy or distracting with that chin guard on? It would drive me nuts… Woah, Gronkwoski, you’re like a beautiful, Greek god. How tall is he? Genetics have been kind to that one.”
As the game goes on, I discover my favorite commercial of the superbowl: Andy Warhol eating a hamburger! Brilliant! I love how candid it is. How organically awkward he appears. How there isn’t any music in the background. It’s vintage and authentic. I decide, “I don’t know how they got their hands on this footage, but that was compelling and impactful….Surely, everyone watching the super bowl will feel similarly too.” (News flash, Aaron. They don’t.)
The game ends, and I feel bad for the Ram’s quarterback because he has a friendly face, and maybe he’s a nice guy.
At the finale? The post-game celebration?, I don’t know what it’s called, but I was shocked by how all of the cameramen swarmed Tom Brady like a pack of zombies.
“Oh my god! They’re stampeding! Holy crap, be careful, Tom. Someone is going to get crushed.” Luckily, it looks like Tom Brady has a very effective handler in that mob. (Looks like ex-secret service to me.)
As the world watches the jubilation, Tom Brady and Julian Edelman have a tender and long embrace, and with that one interaction, you can tell how much they respect and cherish one another, which is always nice to see.
Then, Tom Brady’s handler gives him a huge heads up, “Coach behind you! Coach behind you!” It’s Mr. Belichick! Hooray! He wants in on the stand-up cuddle fest too! Amidst the mosh-pit, Tom swivels in place and embraces his coach wholeheartedly as his handler remains vigilant.
I start wondering, “Huh! So they’ve just won the Superbowl. How do they celebrate tonight? What do they all do? Hang with their families? Party with their peers? What does a party of their peers even look like? Who among all of the revelers are sincerely psyched to be out tearing it up versus how many of them would prefer to be showered and cozy in PJ’s watching Netflix tonight?
At this point, I know for me, it’s bed time. I’m pooped. Because as everyone knows, Sundays spent canoodling at the nude beach with a new friend can be really tiring!