Tuesday, April 21, 2009
goodbye, fake boyfriend.
It's time for a small detour from my usual world of womanhood, motherhood, artisthood, cupcakehood.
It's time to say goodbye to my fake boyfriend.
Yes, I know, you've already heard me say goodbye to Heath Ledger and Jim Halpert and Justin Timberlake.
But now it's time to fondly bid farewell to Jonathan Rhys Meyers.
No! No! Don't say that! Don't say, "Isn't that the guy on The Tudors?" He's so much more than that! What about Gormenghast, The Governess, Run With the Devil, Velvet Goldmine? What about his young, vibrant, petulant films? Remember this guy?
Seriously, no one does petulant like the JRM. A fish couldn't suck its cheeks in further. And a fish definitely couldn't look so delightfully sulky. Dangerously sulky.
Sulky on a clock.
What time is it? It's JRM Rocks the Clock O' Clock!
"O'Clock", because he's Irish, you know.
But now. Oh, my poor JRM. Hugely popular. Cleaned up and shaven. Known in America for The Tudors and August Rush, my two *least* favorite of his roles. In his 3rd stint of rehab for alcoholism.
And the only thing worse than all that?
Standing around, all clean cut, in stupid shirts, telling people in French to buy Hugo cologne.
Oh, how the sulky have fallen.
So i'm sorry, JRM. It's over. Our torrid mental love affair that began in 1999 with The Governess and ended last night with this ad in Men's Health. It's just not to be. I've been able to overlook the fact that possibly the four things I would like least in a man are petulance, alcoholism, cigarette smoking, and starring in August Rush.
But I cannot overlook the Hugo ad.
It's been fun. I'll think of you every time I see a skinny guy acting sulky, and i'll sigh.
I guess that's how a girl knows she's growing up. Her celebrity crushes fade, one by one. I still remember when I lost Johnny Depp and Leonardo DiCaprio, when they went from being really cute boys to grown-up men with problems and charity causes and wrinkles.
Yuck. They're, like, real people. And no one wants that.
And I don't really mind outgrowing my fake boyfriends, except I have this latent fear that one day i'll wake up and find Mel Gibson or John Travolta attractive, and then i'll know that I am an old lady, and i'll go buy some Aspercreme or Milk of Magnesia or whatever old ladies buy, and i'll sit around watching Grease and talking about how much I like a boy with a flat-top haircut and penny loafers.