Imaginary lovers never disagree
They always care
They’re always there when you need
Satisfaction guaranteed
–Atlanta Rhythm Section/Imaginary Lover
One evening several years ago, out for drinks with a group of girlfriends (we referred to ourselves as the CLITS, which is a story unto itself) we got to discussing other women we found attractive. I had kind of a thing for a girl at the coffee shop across the street from work (never acted upon), but when forced to pick someone famous I went with Salma Hayek. If I were into women, I’d like dark skin and curves. I still think she’s hot. I’d also like Penelope Cruz, if someone would buy her a sammich or two. I’m also very fond of Helena Bonham Carter, but consider her more of a psychic soul sister. Messy hair, disheveled clothes and all.
When our men joined us at the martini bar later that night, we badgered them into picking their ideal men. Straight men are much less willing to imagine themselves in a same sex relationship than women are. The women had no trouble at all. The men absolutely did not want to admit that they could possibly find another man attractive. I find that fascinating. Why is that so threatening to men, but not to women? My man picked Benicio Del Toro, who has not stood up to the passage of time very well. Another friend picked Toby McGuire, who is still adorable. Of course at the time his wife gave him a very hard time about cradle robbing, which was hypocritical since her dream girl was then-teenage Brittany Spears.
We then moved into the safer territory of who our “freebies” would be–the people we could fuck without our spouses being mad. My main imaginary squeeze was, and still is Johnny Depp, but I have imaginary boyfriends in several categories.
Imaginary boyfriend #2, rock star division: Dave Grohl. A man of such awesomeness that he didn’t even have to brush his hair when he went to the White House. I am not the biggest Foo Fighter fan in the world, but I do love Dave Grohl in a purely unplatonic way.
Imaginary boyfriend #3, writer division: Neil Gaiman. A man who has apparently never brushed his hair. Ever. Wrote a couple of my favorite books. “American Gods” for one. He is also one of the best readers aloud anywhere. Get his audiobook of “The Graveyard Book.” It’s wonderful. Or his short story “A Study in Emerald.” Reading aloud is a tricky thing, and he is very good at it. And the hair…oh…it’s so gloriously messy. When he married Amanda Fucking Palmer, it only made him an even better imaginary boyfriend. They are an eminently fuckable pair.
What all of my imaginary boyfriends share, aside from dark, wavy, messy hair is talent, quirkiness and creativity. Qualities which I also appreciate in real life men, in addition to brains and the ability to make me laugh. If you can make me laugh and make me think, there is a good chance that you can…well….let’s just say “be successful.”
If you’re an imaginary girlfriend? Well, it might help to be a guy. I am not really into women.
