BDIPC is pleased to hostess the inimitable Jen See for today’s Guest Post. One part window into the soul of BDIPC and two parts (or three, depending on how you count) evocative reminders of what it is we love best about the Dudes, somehow Jen seems to shake and stir us all at once. Perhaps better known as Gavia, she is the co-editor of Podium Cafe and is an accomplished freelance writer. She has interviewed national, world, and Olympic champions, and her writing has appeared in pretty much every cycling publication worth its salt. When not doing shots (of espresso) while writing, she is clad in Lycra (getting sweaty), or neoprene (getting wet). And really, we wouldn’t have her any other way.
I was pretty excited to receive an invitation to visit the BDIPC headquarters. I packed up my nicest ripped jeans and my newest flip flops and here I am, hanging at the world headquarters of Bangable Dudes.
And what a headquarters it is. It’s very fancy. I walked in the door and sank into a lovely velvet couch with satin throw pillows. The table top shines with iridescent tile, and I’m afraid to set down my coffee, never mind put up my feet.
Looking around, I see a feather boa peeking out from behind the door and several pairs of strappy shoes stashed casually under the coffee table. A crinoline sits in the corner, a Victorian ghost whose time machine got stuck on today. I see long satin opera gloves in various colors stacked on a shelf, a riotous rainbow of glamour. The toe of a fishnet stocking peeks out of a dresser drawer.
Across the room sits the Minx herself, folded gracefully into an armchair, stiletto dangling from a toe, pencil in hand, reading.
Can I tell you a secret? Just between us? I’m feeling a little out of place. You see, I’m much more flannel and fleece than silk and satin. I have a closet full of neoprene, another full of lycra, flip flops for every day of the week, and beach sand in my pockets. Wool beanies and carbon Sidis, yes. Opera gloves and stilettos? Not so much.
Ah, but I do love men who ride bikes. And their legs. Especially, I love their legs. I love the smooth curve of the calf muscles, and that tantalizing groove just above the knee that only bike racers seem to have. I love the way the skin slides taut over tendons and sinew, the way the rain gleams on fresh embro and road grit clings to the shin bones, the way that wet lycra clings to just about everything and doesn’t leave much of anything to the imagination. Also, I love the chamois tuck.
Can I tell you another secret? Really, this velvet couch just begs for confidences. I am a little fickle when it comes to the bangable Dudes. Some days it’s all about the long, lustrous Italian legs of Ivan Basso. Other times, I swoon for the knife-edge perfection of Andrea Guardini’s sideburns, the sly sweetness of Tom Boonen’s smile, the manicured scruff of Fabian Cancellara’s chin, or the frosted tips of Heinrich Haussler’s hair. And Thomas Dekker’s underwear — Well, let’s just say I am very fond of Thomas Dekker’s underwear.
But if I had to pick just one bangable Dude, out of the whole wide world of bangable Dudes — which after all is why I’m here — I would choose Matti Breschel. I blame my misspent youth, which I too often spent ditching class to hang out at the beach. Blonde hair and blue eyes just give me the shivers in that deep down place where the best shivers shake.
Matti looks like a smiley Dude, like a Dude who laughs easily. A Dude like that, you know he’ll make it fun for a girl. A girl never wants to look up (or down) and see a man with a math-problem face at that bright shining instant when the earth begins to tilt and shift beneath her. At least, I don’t.
A Dude should laugh and smile and make little jokes that are just for you. Life shouldn’t be a math problem, and sex, it isn’t such a serious thing after all.
And then, just like that, it was over. I took my coffee cup back to the sink, rinsed it out, dried it, and put it back on the shelf. I said a fond farewell to the velvet couch and ran the tip of my index finger down the length of one of those long satin gloves. Then I passed over the threshold and gently closed the door.