by Jeffe Kennedy
I'm not hugely into celebrity crushes. Some of the blogger gals do boyfriend of the week. Sister bordello-occupant Allison Pang has her Midnight Man Candy. There are actors I particularly like, but looking at the pretty pictures just doesn't do all that much for me.
I need a story.
I know, I know - I'm such a girl.
See, even this meme with Ryan Gosling doesn't really light me up. They are funny, with the "Hey Girl..." followed by some sort of impossible female fantasy. There's even one on Twitter now for the Gosling Literary Agency, with the profile tag line: Hey Girl, your manuscript made me cry. I can see how they're amusing, with lines like Hey Girl, gonna negotiate your contract now. No, no, you go get a coffee. I can't...I don't want you to hear me raise my voice.
But this is the one that grabs my little writer-girl heart:
I admit it: I have a total crush on Neil Gaiman. More, I have an uncharacteristically bi-crush on both him and his wife, Amanda Fucking Palmer. If you know nothing about her, watch this video at least. It's not entirely safe for work, though it's all suggestive with nothing really showing.
I love that these two very different, creative and off-beat artists found each other. I think that it's great that they managed to put together this marriage where they're both off intensely doing their own things.
I confess that I worry about them.
This is the true celebrity crush, I think, where I feel like I know these two. Like they're already my friends. And, like the worst of nosy friends, I worry about them. I want to ask if they spend enough time together. Are they happy? I want to invite them over for wine and dinner so we can all dish about our latest projects.
I read their blogs and mentally respond.
When they were in Santa Fe visiting George R.R. Martin and I didn't find out until afterwards, I felt irrationally hurt. I mean - they could have called!
Still and all, I don't think this kind of this is particularly unhealthy. It's good to have people who embody certain goals for us. In the past, it used to be the nobility, the kings and queens and descending royals who we admired and emulated. Or the church elders or great philosophers. Today the pundits snark that our new royalty are the Hollywood stars, implying that these are empty people to look to.
I'm not sure it's wrong. It's all part of the fantasy, crushing on the hot guy, fantasizing about being as beautiful as Keira Knightly, thinking that Johnny Depp would probably totally fall for me, if he only just took the time to get to know me. That Ryan Gosling would make the best literary agent ever.
And, you know, if Neil and Amanda had just called me, I would totally have had them over for dinner.
It would have been a wonderful evening, too.