iâm reading a very manly 1950s account of a hunt for el dorado but iâm thirty pages in and the narrator has already described his traveling companion as âhandsomeâ 4 times, âextremely handsomeâ twice, âexceedingly handsomeâ once, his voice as âquietly huskyâ and âa husky whisper,â his fingers as long and deft, his body as âtall and cat-like,â and his eyes as some variation of ice-blue at least three times.
just men being dudes. dudes being pals. itâs great. this is great.
âEver since he had aimed that gun at my throat, I had liked him immensely. And now I liked him even better.â
oh my god
âI awoke when a beam of light fell across my eyes. Jorge had come into my room carrying a lighted candle.
âIâm going with you,â he said quietly.
âI canât pay you.â
He smiled. âI thought I was a partner?ââ
OH MY GOD
according to apparently every adaptation of a search of el dorado, i think we can conclude that maybe the real el dorado was the homosexuality we found along the way
El Dorado literally translates to âthe golden manâ. In the words of Rupert Giles, âI believe the subtext is rapidly becoming, uh, text.â
