Randomness: I've been a slasher all my life...
Earlier this week, it hit me: I've been a slasher all my life. I just didn't realise it. Go figure!
I just wanted to share this not earth shattering revelation with the world. Now what's gonna follow is a lot of rambling, so don't feel obliged to read on.
How did this realisation come to pass? Well, we were discussing old vs. new movies and my dad's comedic favourites came up, being Bud Spencer and Terence Hill movies. (I've included wiki links in the names, 'cause I'm OCD that way LOL) They're generally poorly dubbed (the original actors spoke Italian) and not exactly heavy on the plotlines. Thing is, I suddenly remembered this one scene in 'Flatfoot in Egypt' (which only has Bud Spencer in it) that I kept going back to again and again. I think I actually damaged the tape, rewinding it so often. I also remembered it making me feel GOOD. (not that kinda good, I was probably six or seven at the time... shame on you! ::grins::) I just didn't remember what actually happened in said scene, so I finally tracked down a copy of the film.
Here's what happens: Bud Spencer tracks the bad guy into a carpet shop (and yes, not only were these movies paragons of bad/over-acting, the racism and stereotyping in them will make you cringe, wince and shudder. This is youth sentiment, so please bear with me). There is a fight with both the bad guy and an evil midget (I know, I know) and eventually Bud Spencer forcefully persuades the bad guy to give him information.
Now here comes the slashy bit: the midget wants to prevent the guy from speaking so he hits him with a poisonous blow dart in the back of the shoulder. He thinks he's going to die, but Bud Spencer immediately starts stripping him and sucking out the poison, accompanied with some rather heavy breathing from the other guy. And that's it. There was no fondling or manbits showing and these days I'd consider it extremely tame. For some reason back then, it made me tingle. It took rewatching the scene to realise why: it was probably as touchy feely as I'd seen between men at the time. It didn't hurt that the bad guy wasn't ugly and seemed to enjoy what Bud Spencer was doing a bit more than sucking a puncture would warrant, but I don't even think I noticed those things back then.
It got me thinking. Am I seeing things differently in hindsight, or was I really that slashy to begin with? Then I came across some of my first stories. Stuff I wrote when I was seven or eight while I was rather heavily on a Karl May kick. My favourite was Winnetou (an idealised European idea of the noble Native American) with Old Shatterhand (his white bloodbrother) a close second. There was a lot of handholding and hurt/comfort between those two in my stories, let me tell you! As I thought about it, more and more examples occurred. I just didn't know WHY I liked it so much.
And then there was Star Trek.
The Original Series never actually aired in my country (at least not to my knowledge) and while I thoroughly enjoyed Next Gen, there never was that special click you can get with a character. Then the BBC started doing reruns. Of TOS. And the second ep I saw was Amok Time. I fell in love. First with Spock, I'll admit that. I was about 11 or 12 and he was tall, dark, mysterious, smart and just effin' cool! It took me about half an episode, however, to realise he was already spoken for. I wouldn't have been able to explain what it was back then, but Kirk and Spock became an inseparable pair in my head.
I was actually in college before I realised there was such a thing as fandom and slash, since I didn't have access to the internet before then. Let me tell you, it was the birth of a whole new world. I wasn't weird for thinking these things, I wasn't alone. There were others out there that didn't just think the same, they'd actually put their thoughts and ideas online for me to read. It was like coming home, meeting that likeminded family you've always dreamt about.
So here I am, an undefined number of years later, still looking for the slashiness in day-to-day life. I think I'm actually a better person for it. I'm not from the most open-minded background (tiny village, religious family on my father's side), but fandom has given me the perspective to say: who cares? I'm not going to dictate what's normal, because that's all relative anyway. I'm gonna finish now, with this quote from the Sherlock Holmes story The Three Garridebs: "It was worth a wound-it was worth many wounds-to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask."
In the end, isn't love in all its infinite mutations worth it?