Way To Kill My Buzz, There, Stewart
So there I was, staring slack-jawed and drooling over my picture of McSteamy, when I received a comment from Stewart that, I must confess, kind of shamed me. For those of you who missed the comment, go ahead and take a moment to go read it, then come back. I'll wait.
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Ready? Okay.
So here's the thing: Stewart is totally right. I was getting completely obsessed over the Hotness that is McSteamy for totally superficial reasons. I have no idea how intelligent McSteamy is, nor do I know if he kicks kittens for no particular reason at all, nor do I know whether or not he and I could have a 3 hour long conversation about Stargate SG-1 without him making fun of me for being such a fan-girl nerd. Hell, for all I know, he's a serial killer in his spare time. But it didn't really matter to me, did it? The only thing I could see was the Hotness.
I'm kind of ashamed of that, because in my real life, I'm really not the kind of person who values style over substance. In real life, I'm completely drawn to those quiet, kind of geeky, nerdy types, who are fanatical about sci-fi, probably don't date much, are attractive in an unconventional way, probably work with computers and are smarter than I am. In real life, I probably wouldn't give McSteamy a second look. Well, okay, that's not true. I'd look. I'd look a lot. But then I'd go home with Oscar, who is a quiet, kind of geeky, nerdy type, who is totally into SG-1 with me, never dated much, is completely hot in an unconventional way, works with computers and, it can be argued, is smarter than I am. And I would bless the good fortune that brought him into my life.
So I kind of feel like I owe you an apology, Stewart. I would hate for you to slink back to your comic books thinking all of us women are vapid, shallow, status-conscious nitwits, concerned only with how physically attractive and financially solid you men are. There are those of us out there who are actually more concerned with whether or not you think Daniel is to blame for the deterioration of his close friendship with Sam over the last few seasons of SG-1 than we are with whether or not you would be cast as the arrogant but sexy plastic surgeon on ABC's hit television series about surgical interns. Besides, I checked out your profile and you're too cute to be sitting at home alone.
3 Comments:
Ok, so now I feel like crap for my postings of a few weeks back. I hope Stewart doesnt find my blog or he is sure to have a field day!
maybe I'm the only one that is ok with having some shallow thoughts in my fantasy life. I don't mind and I'm not ashamed by them. The reason is because I know in my real life that is not entirely how I am. Sure we can all be attracted to those people who are more esthetically pleasing, but it is the rest that really gets you going. But in my fantasy life I make no apologies for drooling over those more gifted physically because I don't let my fantasy and real life bleed together.
WHOA. I love a fantasy life. I'm with Raven. I think my last posting was more about my own self esteem than anything else. I would never have thought a woman vapid or shallow for admiring a hunk. Hell...I'd take him to bed myself. Thank God I'm secure in my sexuality..now just don't tell anyone I said that.
Actually, cymber, that person you described that you would end up with, would probably have been someone like me. So thanks for that compliment.
But no, I think a healthy fantasy life is wonderful. You should see the women who go running through my fantasies. Actually you shouldn't. You'd probably scratch your head and ask: "Is that really what you find hot? Wow..isn't she a little..muscular?"
Well to each his or her own.
And of course, while I will agree that I am cute...although not the Cute Stewart. That was something the girls in school called the other guy named Stewart to help delineate us from one another (thank god for therapy), I assure you I don't sit at home alone. Unless my wife is going out and my mistress is busy somewhere.
Now I'm going off to Jenika's blog to have a field day.
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