The Guy on the Baking Show

He was the type of Englishman who attracts and repels equally — the square jaw, overall spareness of frame, the sad, humorous eyes, the efficiency and capability in his movements. Even on a baking show, he seemed steeped in knowledge of the world. His quick grin masked some apparently hidden insecurity. The accent was London/Oxbridge. He was built like a runner or a long distance hiker, with the requisite genteel white man’s stubble. To find him attractive makes me uneasy, he’s too easily good, too given to charity, too secure in the wedding ring. Is that ease in himself, giving himself over to his task, an effect of privilege?  Yes. Do I care? Maybe. Would I jump his bones? Maybe.