I'm somewhat in awe of famous people. It's not because I think they're innately any better than I am; I know it's because they're just better known. They're the "in" crowd, that small percentage of the human race recognized by people outside their immediate family.
I've often wondered what it was, exactly, that sets the "in" crowd apart from the rest of us. More money, better fashion sense, stronger self-esteem... I don't know that it's really any of these things at heart. I would venture to guess that those things are the results of fame more than the requirements for it. In terms of really famous people, it's surely more exposure through our relentless media outlets that makes them recognizable. Before the printing press, a king could walk through the countryside and the only way you'd be able to recognize him was if his likeness on the coinage was a good one. But newspapers, TV and film have created a royalty all their own, including everyone from Ted Kennedy to Anna Nicole Smith in the roster of the identifiable.
I read once that girls tend to test their early sexual attractions on unattainable targets in order to become increasingly comfortable with those emotions. And who is more unattainable than a famous man? This theory would certainly explain the attraction of N'Sync, because anyone over the age of 15 has no idea what the attraction actually is. But it's really pretty clear when you think about it - Justin, Lance, JC and the crew are close to the age of the target demographic, they're reasonably cute, they sing sappy love songs that call to the hearts of newly hormone infested girls, and most importantly, they're not threatening in any way. No normal junior high student in Wisconsin is going to become Justin's girlfriend. And that's the catch. Twelve-year-old girls, although swamped with chemicals that make them yearn for tender caresses and gentle kissing, don't actually have the mental capabilities to deal with intimacy. That's the way they're designed. Desire first - interest in, fascination over, fantasies about - but also intense fear regarding the actual mechanics of the attraction.
I freely fess up to my crushes during my junior high and high school years. I had a whole stable of non-threatening men to choose from. I had crushes on TV stars, singers, and sports legends. And when I look back on them now, I completely understand the non-threatening part of the equation. I mean, Julian Lennon? Adorable, yes... he was cute as a button. I actually spent a weekend in seventh grade racing to the phone every 30 minutes trying to win tickets from a local radio station to his concert in San Francisco. My persistence paid off and I did win those tickets. I spent the duration of the concert perched on the edge of the stage (right next to the speakers - I was in love and I was not smart). I had a poster of him on my bedroom door and I listened to his record for hours on end. I loved him. And there was no way on earth that he was going to be aware of my existence, even as I hung off the edge of his stage like a shrimp on a cocktail glass, so I was free to gush and fantasize about the day we would run into each other at Pizza Hut and drive off into the sunset.
The adoration was real, but it was also fickle. I went through hoards of men in my early adolescence. Jameson Parker (AJ Simon on TV's "Simon and Simon") was a frequent player. I found out recently that he now hosts a local hunting program in Wyoming or someplace like that - gads. Tony Hadley (lead singer of Spandau Ballet) was common fuel for my overactive imagination but I grew out of him when he continued to wear lacy pirate shirts long after the New-Ro period was put to bed. I nursed fleeting flames for Joe Montana, Tom Selleck and John Taylor from Duran Duran. For about 30 seconds I loved Don Johnson, then I moved on to Stephen Collins, dropped him for Harry Anderson, took up with Simon MacCorkindale, and then worshipped Cary Elwes in quick succession - they were all my playthings.
Oh, and of course, Sting - one of the few who made it through and is still a favorite in my book.
So I'm proof that we girls fall in love again and again with guys on pedestals. But as we slowly get more and more able to deal with our attractions, we move into the sphere of unrequited loves - those crushes on guys who are "real" but who, again, aren't threatening. The attraction is "closer" to the girl, but isn't immediately actionable. These are the heartbreaks over the captain of the high school football team or the adorable math teacher (just as example... it's not like I'm pulling out my own experiences with David Spencer or Mr. Serrao for... oh, dammit... )
As we move through high school and into college, we girls have begun dabbling in real relationships, the vast majority of which end badly in one way or another and we wind up in our best friends' bedrooms, eating ice cream and being consoled. The realities involved in maintaining an adult relationship are hard at any age, and I think that's why the appeal of The Crush stays so strong even if we're lucky enough to hook up with men that we love, and who love us and treat us wonderfully. The opportunity to whisk away to CrushLand at the first sight of the star in question is mighty appealing when you're doing dishes or listening to your spouse snore at 2 am. It's safe, it doesn't threaten the relationship... and the object of the crush is a hottie or else he wouldn't be your crush!
I continue to maintain my stable even now in my early thirties. When I think about it, I realize I've got two spheres of crushes. The obvious one is the "I Want to Lick Whipped Cream Out of Your Navel and So Do Most of the Sane Women I Know" category. This would include the likes of David Duchovny, Vin Diesel, Brendan Fraser and Russell Crowe. Sensible, no? I mean, even if you yourself do not wish to bathe in a hot tub on the Rivera with Mulder, you can probably objectively understand why someone might.
On the other hand, I have the "OK, I Don't Really Get It Either But I Would Stalk These Guys If I Were That Type of Person and Please Don't Hurt Yourself Laughing At Me" group. This brotherhood includes Kevin Spacey, Alan Rickman and my own personal favorite, Alton Brown.
If you're asking yourself, "Who?" at this point, go watch some Food Network. Tune in to Good Eats and then come back and we'll chat.
Alton Brown hosts Good Eats. I've loved him since the first time I watched the show and, though I do think he's cute in the sort of "cute geek makes good" way that I tend to go for, the real attraction is that he's smart, and smart is sexy my friends. Smart and funny? That's an unbeatable combo.
I had intended to go to his book signing last June - had planned for it for months in fact, but surgery on my right foot 3 days before the event kept me far away. Turns out it was a good thing, because the book signing was mobbed - hundreds of people showed up that day.
A few weeks after the book signing, I was surfing through Alton's web site and saw that he was planning on teaching a cooking class in Los Gatos in October. Right then I began a months long assault to get into this class. Much like running through the house every time the radio station said to call in for Julian Lennon tickets, I would call the kitchen supply store every few weeks to find out if they'd set a date yet for class registration.
Persistence again paid off and I found out the registration date. Dave and I went down to the store at 4 am the morning of registration and hung around, yawning, outside the store until 8:30, when they began taking registration. We were second in line and got in, but the class sold out by 8:35 - I'm not the only Alton fan, y'all.
The class itself was this past Monday and it was excellent - and not just because I love Alton. I learned a ton about cooking soufflés and laughed my head off along with the rest of the class. I got to sit in the front row and was pulled up to help with a demonstration about egg white proteins. And before you ask, "Huh?" I'll repeat myself - I was pulled into a demonstration about egg white proteins. I'm a huge geek, I'm proud of that, and hey, it got me hug from Alton, which in turn got me all giggly because he's my crush and how often do you get a hug from your crush??
The fact is that through all the crushes I've ever had, I've never gotten very close to the object of the crush (the crushee?). Sitting on the same stage as my idol, or merely being in the same building, was sufficient to fuel the fires of my adolescence. If you had told me that one day I would me holding the hand of any of my crushes, I would have laughed in your face, since much of the definition of a crush is that there's no hope of the crush knowing of your existence. It's rather jarring when your crush asks you about your tattoo, goofs off for your camera, or gives you a bear hug. When they become real people and come down off the pedestal you've built for them. When they begin to seem like your next-door neighbor, only with a lot more friends.
My husband asked me if I had a crush on him when I first met him. I thought about it for a moment, then honestly told him no. No, I didn't have a crush on him, I just wanted to get to know him better. A lot better, as it turned out.
When I asked him if he'd had a crush on me, he told me he didn't. Being a woman, I then asked him what he did feel when we first met. He didn't answer for a few moments, then looked up and smiled. "Randy curiosity," he replied.
I'm not sure I know what the difference is.
- KNP Oct 27, '02
