|James Gandolfini: Sexy but out of the running, being dead.|
This morning with my coffee I learned that "one of the sexiest men alive is off the market." I encountered this news flash repeatedly as I made my way through my email and ultimately landed on my Facebook page. Someone named Adam Levine, who I have neither seen nor heard of before, got married to a lingerie model, and supposedly this was bad news for the ladies.
That declaration finalized something I have long suspected: I am no longer important in this world. I am over the hill and so far down the other side that some news doesn't even slide that far, coming to rest somewhere in the mid-forties. Of course I hear about all the global news from reading the paper so I'm up to speed on who's killing who, but when it comes to social media I am already ensconced in the glue factory.
I know I could find out in seconds that this Adam was some former contestant on a reality TV show, attaining celebrity by dating naked or being naked and afraid or being a bachelor or trying to become an American idol or maybe by dancing with a star. Who knows, maybe the boy's got real talent, but I am feeling comfortable in my ignorance and so will leave it at that. Also, I saw his picture and did not find him at all sexy, but then my tastes run to manly men, not the pretty boys. (see photo)