Up for a challenge
If a man at the age of 20 thinks himself sexy, he is considered arrogant; at 30, he is just confident; and at 40, well, he is what is called a brave soul. As a man squarely in his 40s, I never really gave much thought to being sexy. After all I'm quite a serious person. I have a busy criminal law practice in Toronto, teach at a highly regarded law school and make regular appearances as the brash legal analyst on "Canada AM" on CTV. This is the story of my transformation into the sensuous solicitor.
Aug. 22, 2004
It all begins innocently enough. As I sip on my latte after a Sunday brunch, I overhear my nine-year-old son in an exchange with his older sister. "Daddy would never win that. He's way too old." "Win what?" I curiously ask. My question is greeted by silence. Peering over at the kitchen table I see the Toronto Sun sprawled out in front of my kids and snatch it away. The paper had been turned to a prominent ad for a competition for the Sexiest Man in Toronto. First prize is a free trip for two to the salacious Hedonism Resort in Jamaica. This father's pride is stung. With a look of fierce determination that is usually reserved for cross-examining witnesses, I tell my kids that not only am I going to enter the competition, but that I will win it. As they began to laugh to the point that they almost fall off their chairs, I begin to get a queasy feeling inside of me. Aug. 31, 2004
I stand in front of the mailbox for several minutes holding an envelope in my hand. Inside the envelope is a photograph and a one-page irreverent outline of the 10 reasons that I should be chosen as Toronto's sexiest man. They include such lofty goals as wanting to inspire all of my paunchy friends to get into shape, to have a free trip to my favourite island in the Caribbean and proving that a man can still be sexy after reaching the venerable age of 40. I list the fact that I need to win to prove my kids wrong as well as having a good excuse to attend The Everything to Do with Sex Show, where the competition will be held.
I take a deep breath and place the envelope in the mailbox. I am instantly consoled by the thought that I have absolutely no chance of winning the competition. The other entries will be half my age and all buff and bronzed. By the time I reach my home a few minutes later, the entire experience is forgotten.
Sept. 14, 2004
I have completed a draining day in court at my Hell's Angels case in Barrie, Ont. I am defending a member of the Hell's Angels in a landmark challenge to the new criminal organization legislation that the government introduced in response to the deadly biker war in Quebec. As I check my voice mail, I am so startled that I replay the message to ensure that I'm not dreaming. The caller, Jessie, congratulates me as being chosen as one of the 10 finalists for the Sexiest Man in Toronto competition. I am to call her back to confirm that I am willing to participate. As I drive back to Toronto, many thoughts rush through my mind. I imagine the prospect of winning the competition and looking at the smirking faces of all my lawyer friends the next time I'm in the Barrister's Lounge. I have the feeling of standing on a diving board looking straight down six metres into a tiny pool of water. It is going to take a lot of courage to take that last step before the plunge.
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Aug. 22, 2004
It all begins innocently enough. As I sip on my latte after a Sunday brunch, I overhear my nine-year-old son in an exchange with his older sister. "Daddy would never win that. He's way too old." "Win what?" I curiously ask. My question is greeted by silence. Peering over at the kitchen table I see the Toronto Sun sprawled out in front of my kids and snatch it away. The paper had been turned to a prominent ad for a competition for the Sexiest Man in Toronto. First prize is a free trip for two to the salacious Hedonism Resort in Jamaica. This father's pride is stung. With a look of fierce determination that is usually reserved for cross-examining witnesses, I tell my kids that not only am I going to enter the competition, but that I will win it. As they began to laugh to the point that they almost fall off their chairs, I begin to get a queasy feeling inside of me. Aug. 31, 2004
I stand in front of the mailbox for several minutes holding an envelope in my hand. Inside the envelope is a photograph and a one-page irreverent outline of the 10 reasons that I should be chosen as Toronto's sexiest man. They include such lofty goals as wanting to inspire all of my paunchy friends to get into shape, to have a free trip to my favourite island in the Caribbean and proving that a man can still be sexy after reaching the venerable age of 40. I list the fact that I need to win to prove my kids wrong as well as having a good excuse to attend The Everything to Do with Sex Show, where the competition will be held.
I take a deep breath and place the envelope in the mailbox. I am instantly consoled by the thought that I have absolutely no chance of winning the competition. The other entries will be half my age and all buff and bronzed. By the time I reach my home a few minutes later, the entire experience is forgotten.
Sept. 14, 2004
I have completed a draining day in court at my Hell's Angels case in Barrie, Ont. I am defending a member of the Hell's Angels in a landmark challenge to the new criminal organization legislation that the government introduced in response to the deadly biker war in Quebec. As I check my voice mail, I am so startled that I replay the message to ensure that I'm not dreaming. The caller, Jessie, congratulates me as being chosen as one of the 10 finalists for the Sexiest Man in Toronto competition. I am to call her back to confirm that I am willing to participate. As I drive back to Toronto, many thoughts rush through my mind. I imagine the prospect of winning the competition and looking at the smirking faces of all my lawyer friends the next time I'm in the Barrister's Lounge. I have the feeling of standing on a diving board looking straight down six metres into a tiny pool of water. It is going to take a lot of courage to take that last step before the plunge.
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