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Hot Celeb Action? Yes puuhleeze!

2009-07-03 14:21
Right now, someone, somewhere, is having sex with Marilyn Monroe.

Obviously, this is all in their head. Obviously, she's not only dead, but would be 83 years old if she had lived, which makes the whole thing pretty "specialised" .

But that's the fabulous thing about celebrities. They may be people too (the jury's still out), but they belong not only to the real world, but to me and you and whoever else loves them.

Does this mean fans are a bunch of idiots? I don't know. Some will argue that we're genetically programmed to create human demi-gods, celebrate them, and even live our lives through their elusive images.  I prefer to think that my (sometimes quite openly sexual) relationship with famous people is more mature than that. You know, more about nurture than mere human nature.

Because having a brain is Hot Hot Hot! And that's official.

No, I'm not ashamed to admit that intelligence turns me on, as I recently did while writing up an interview with Dave Matthews, who I find so attractive that if someone says they listen to his music, and has slight pattern-baldness and left-wing leanings, I'll sleep with them like that.

I'm so absolutely starstruck by Dave Matthews that I abandoned my usually very Cape Town attitude to famous people (translation: "I'm like, so totally unimpressed I'll just ignore you") and spent most of the day fantasising about the brilliant questions I was going to ask my hero and the way we'd connect down the phone line despite the million miles between us and the fact that he's happily married to someone much hotter than me.

I feel similarly about John Mayer, and it's only gotten worse since I've started following him on Twitter, where unlike most celeb tweeters he actually posts interesting stuff, funny thoughts, and occasionally snippets of philosophical musings, often serialising his posts according to a catchy theme. The latest: I just finished listening to what can only be described as erotic gangsta rap? I feel funny. Do not download a song called "Lip Service." 

Does my perving of Dave Matthews or John Mayer in some way demean them as artists? Or demean me as a journalist?

According to Clive Battell, commenting on the interview article's message board, I'm disgusting. "...the author's drooling, sex-symbol slant is irritating in the extreme - not only does it detract from the music she is supposed to be writing about but it undermines women in general. 'The intelligent rock fan's most tempting perve..' Puuhleeze!"

Is this guy saying I'm only permitted to have lustful thoughts about stupid people, and should leave anyone with a brain unbesmirched by my filthy, beastly leanings? Is he saying that I shouldn't write about sex in connection with musicians who spend thousands on photo shoots and write songs about sexual relationships for a living?

Puuhleeze! I reserve the right to perve John and Dave. And if the two of them finally realise at the same time that we belong together, I'd have to make it a threesome. A foursome if  a younger Paul Simon were available for some reason. Actually don't get me started - I could easily organise a full-on orgy. Given my fairly eclectic taste in music and massive CD collection, it would be a very politically correct and festive occasion.

Scorn me all you want, but you know very well that I'm not the only one who thinks inappropriate thoughts about famous people. "Prepare to fall in love with someone who's like, 90 years old," Movies editor Shaheema Barodien said this morning, slipping me a DVD of Bonnie & Clyde, this week's classic movie, to watch over the weekend.

Apparently half of Hollywood shares her taste in men – and has been happy to prove it by sharing Warren Beatty's bed. Apparently millions of Michael Jackson fans are happy to adore Michael as he was before he cut his nose off and started befriending young boys. 

And I'm happy to know the John Mayer on Twitter, where he puts his best face forward. I really don't want to meet the real man, who probably farts in bed (starting in year three, usually). I think that's why I prefer not to have much chance of actually coming face to face with the real human flesh and brains of my fantasy, and so prefer to idolise foreign celebrities. Celebrities shouldn't be real. They're celebrities for a reason – because we make it so, and because real people mostly suck.

Luckily, thanks to good publicity managers, fantastic scriptwriters, and in some cases, their real talent, the famous men I admire are unlikely to disappoint me. And if guaranteed satisfaction isn't a good enough reason to shag an imaginary John Mayer instead of some shoddy old "real person", what is? publishes all comments posted on articles provided that they adhere to our Comments Policy. Should you wish to report a comment for editorial review, please do so by clicking the 'Report Comment' button to the right of each comment.

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