It has recently been brought to my attention that Javier Bardem was really, really hot when he was younger. Like, really, really hot.
A spicy ibérican ham, he was. A warm pan of paella, he was. He isn’t disgusting now, no, but a recent watch of the very flawed film Mother! shows that he has come a long way – and he rode on the back of a super fucking hot younger self.
I didn’t believe it until I saw the photo below.
It was hot but was it the same Javier I had seen, who wasn’t as hot as that photo? I had to keep my eye out. And! Then I saw this animated .gif and I was like huh.
And I wanted to kiss them both. I wanted to curl up next to Javier Bardem when he was at this young age and lick the back of his neck as he slept. What a hunk.
I had to keep looking. I found a lot, like this photo of him in a wet t-shirt.
And then he was on a motorcycle and he made you believe that a white motorcycle guy like James Dean is a myth, a gay fantasy, an unreal nothing. Javier is the real version. He is who you were looking for.
Ah, yes. It doesn’t end there! He keeps flirting and flirting and flirting, wearing leather in pictures and looking like he is going to beat me the fuck up but in a flirty, sexy big brother way.
And then I look into his eyes. Te amo, he whispers to me in blinks. Te amo. I lick his neck again. He is salty, cured.
He keeps taking his shirt off too. He isn’t, like, super buff or super fit or a twink or a bear or any sort of anything. He just is a piece of Spanish beef. And I am no vegetarian.
And he loves meat too. He loves meat. He is con carne.
And I can, apparently, thanks to more photos. I have no idea where they come from but I don’t care.Am I complaining about this? No, I am not. I will never complain about young Javier. Never. Nunca, Javier.