renaissance men

This past Saturday, the family and I headed out to one of our annual summer traditions - the Renaissance Faire. (Note the "e" at the end...very important.  It lets you know that this is not a "fair" filled with farm animals and overpriced rides with creepy carnies.) I love going and getting lost in the sounds, the costumes, the food and sometimes the heat. This year's heat was certainly no exception.  Unfortunately, I wasn't able to lose myself as much as I had hoped because I was dealing with two very strong personalities that don't deal well with heat.  But I'm not here to talk about family issues...

One of the things that people (especially men) tend to notice at the Faire (notice that "e" again) is the amount of cleavage.  Some men that I know call it "Boobfest".  Bodices push the bosoms high up into the air creating a high shelf on which a lady could easily rest her ale.  The blouses sometimes barely cover the areola, but because it's still covered, it's still approved for family viewing.  Women of all ages, shapes, sizes and tastes attend the RenFaire in costume which provides many an, "I really didn't want to see that," moment.  I really don't feel the need to stare at the cleavage because I have my own (see previous post)...mine just isn't hiked up to my chin.

Being in my mid-thirties and feeling a tad more randy than in previous years there (which is apparently completely natural in my "older" age according to this article), I happened to take notice of some of the men.  Finding an attractive man there is sometimes a daunting task as a good portion of the men are either goth, gay, old, 7-feet-tall, dressed up a little too "fancy" for me, or suburban tourists.  I wasn't trying to seek out the attractive men, they just happened to show up from time to time - like diamonds in the rough. 

As the family and I were walking through the park, I was accosted by a shirtless barbarian.  He walked up to me and hit me with his big foam sword.  After shaking off the fact that a half-clothed stranger hit me with a phallic instrument causing a very mild amount of pain, I noticed that this guy was actually kind of cute.  He went on talking to my son about how they have these barbarian tournaments at certain times with swords just like the foam one he was carrying...blah, blah, blah.  I nodded, "Yeah that sounds great!" not actually listening to much of what he was saying.  I was just hoping he'd hit me with his sword again - that was kinda fun.  He let me hold it though...his sword, that is.  I told him we'd definitely be there for the afternoon tournament.  I'd be happy to let my son get pummelled by some foam-wielding uber-geek in order to drool a little bit more.  He gave me a smile, walked off, and my husband proceeded to tell me how brave the guy must be to walk around shirtless like that with man-boobs.  Ah, silly jealous husband.  Wait...man-boobs?  I was so busy looking at his face and thinking about what fun we could have with those swords that I didn't even take the time to check out the rest of him.  We did make it to the tournament...too late to enter, but we were still able to take a look at what was there.  My son took plenty of time picking out exactly which one he wanted, so I had time to check out what..er..who I wanted to.  I had to sadly agree with the hubby about his chest area, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I had pictured it.  I tried getting a picture of him, but didn't want it to be obvious, so unfortunately the only one I got doesn't even show his good-looking face...just the chest.  Ah, well. 

The day wore on, full of sweat, whining, pouting, occasional laughter and little food.  Eventually, we made our way down to the jousting tournament.  It was, of course, packed.  The seats were full, people were standing everywhere...which is what we ended up doing as well.  The nice thing about standing is that you're able to be closer to the knights, the sights, the sounds, and unfortunately the smells.  Anyhoo, going to see the knights tends to bring out the ladies' inner romantic, daydreaming schoolgirls and they swoon over the men in armor.  Fortunately, this year there were a couple of attractive men on horseback.  To top off the fun in fantasy - they were the bad guys.  Now would they be considered as cute if they were in modern clothing or even regular costume as opposed to shiny metal suits carrying swords?  I'm guessing no, but the wenches won't care.

Alas, those were the only attractive men I saw there.  Perhaps I was blinded by the sun reflecting off of all of the pale white suburbanite and goth skin and I missed some along the way.  Like I said, I wasn't really looking for anything, it's just that once I saw one attractive guy, it made me hungry for more.  Of course, my own husband was there and attractive as always, but remember - I go there to escape.  Now maybe if we end up going in costume next year, he'll be part of the escape as well.