Hunk of the Day: Sean Patrick Davey

Sean Patrick Davey 1001

The Hunk of the Day is Sean Patrick Davey, one of the first gingers to make this feature. (Prince Harry’s naked royal rump has been on here, but not as an official Hunk of the Day.) I’m not sure what took me so long to feature a red-head, as I happen to have a very powerful pull towards them. It started back at a summer program I took at Brown University. It was a two week deal that happened in the summer before my senior year of high school. Designed to prepare us for college, the idea was that we would be taking a single college course, condensed into two quick weeks. We’d be assigned a roommate, and have the typical college dorm experience, and blah, blah, blah. I only agreed to do it because it would look good on a transcript. (It’s why I did anything in high school. Do you really think I was ever that invested in Amnesty International?)

My roommate was a red head. I don’t care what color your hair is, nor have I ever put much faith in the stereotypical whisperings one hears in the world. In this case, the only thing I’d heard was that red heads were crazy. Whatever. After the first few days, though, I began to wonder if there was something to that. I sensed something was off, in the outbursts of rage and anger that came from the simplest of set-backs. Fortunately, none of these were directed at me, mostly because I barely spoke when we were alone together. He would write constantly in a spiral-bound notebook, and of course I was dying to read it. When he went into Providence for a day, I’m ashamed to say the first thing I did was open up that notebook and start reading. What I found both terrified and fascinated me. It was a diatribe and manifesto indicating that his goal was to join with Satan, take over the world, destroy all of us, and then turn on Satan, slitting his throat, to rule the world himself. I mean, this was some bat-shit crazy nonsense. Today, it would likely get him arrested. Back then I didn’t know what to do, so I took a foolish risk, grabbing the book and running the distance to the library.

Nervously hoping I could finish my task before he returned, I hastily placed the notebook on the copier’s glass, the lights flashing across my face as I furtively looked around. Page after page of maniacal scribblings were spit out from the copier’s side. (He wrote at least 8 pages of this stuff.) My heart was pounding, but based on his plan I had nothing to lose. I hurried back to our room, replaced the notebook, and stowed the copies in the bottom of my suitcase, in case anything happened to me. The idea of meeting my death at the hands of this off-balance person frightened me as much as it would anyone, but also thrilled in some unlikely way. A dangerous ginger who might slip his hands around my neck, a pale ghost who had asked me to check his naked back for ticks after the woodland walk we had to take for the biology program, it was both sick and crazy, and in hindsight it seems more erotic than it felt at the time (when the thought of having my throat slit over-rode any sort of sexual feelings). It was my first experience with a ginger, and though not romantic in any way, it has stayed with me.  

As for Mr. Davey, he has not yet proved himself murderous, and I’m sure he is as nice as he is hot, so my accompanying story is in no way a reflection of any predilections on his part, or the part of any other red-heads.

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