You'd be wrong.
I started my crushing as a typical preteen. I had all the teeny bop magazines. I had my walls plastered with ripped out pages and posters of every TV/movie star pretending to be my age, and life was good. I remember writing a fan letter to my dearest Emilio Estevez (at the time St. Elmo's Fire was big and so was he), letting him know Demi (that's the ex-Mrs. Ashton Kutcher to anyone under 30) just wasn't good enough for him. I can't remember if I ever mailed it and I'm not sure if this was starstruck or stalking behavior, but I was underaged so it would be a sealed record either way.
Eventually I met my real life Mr. Right and those childhood stars from my childhood dreams faded away. I'm sure it was because my own personal movie star was sharing my bed every night, but it could also have had something to do with the fact that young stars like Ralph Macchio and Matthew Broderick don't stay young, but they still LOOK young, and it gets pretty creepy after age 30 (for them, not me - trust me, I was NOT crushing on Karate Kid or Ferris Bueller in my 30s). Real life was real good and the fantasizing stalker in me faded.
Until Angel aired.
Many people remember me from my message board days, not as Trisha or the Queen, but as The Member Who Always Had A Half Naked Picture Of David Boreanaz As Her Avatar. This is true. That was me then and this is that picture, and honestly tell me you wouldn't be equally motivated to have it visible all day every day?
The main is a beautiful work of art and I was in pseudolove again. Jay knew all about it, of course, and mocked me every chance he got. He refused to listen to my incredibly intelligent and insightful views on how brave and noble his vampire character was on the show. He laughed when I insisted he was as manly as they make them. He took offense when I told him I thought they looked alike, though I think it's an incredible compliment and I'm sure a shrink would've told me I was just projecting my subconscious need for my real life husband to become a vampire like my fake life husband so he could stay up late with me every night when I wasn't sleeping. Whatever the reason, I was hooked and obsessed. No fan mail this time, though I was happy to participate in the underground movement to try to save the show when it was cancelled.
Note: I think movements are called underground when no one knows about them except for the few idiots actually participating and thinking they're accomplishing anything.
Lucky for me, though, even though Angel was cancelled despite my heroic efforts, I was still rewarded as he returned almost instantly to Bones, a series I was excited to watch anyway to see a favorite book series brought to the screen, and obviously even more ecstatic when I found DB was playing the lead. He may be human instead of vampire, but he still rocks my imaginary world once a week and life is still good.
Unfortunately, in the last year or so I've found myself torn. Yes, I still love DB and watch his show faithfully. Yes, I still love my own real life husband and watch him come out of the shower just as faithfully. But, the addition of Adam Levine to my orbit has propelled me into a 3-way triangle of lust that I'm finding hard to justify as an almost 40-year-old mom.
My children HATE Maroon 5. I honestly didn't listen to much of their music until that siren song, "Makes Me Wonder" hit the air and I started watching the video every single day just to see him in a tux getting frisked in an airport. Just like with DB, I discovered a most addicting half naked photo, created I believe for the single task of allowing me to worship him.
Yes, I usually turn my nose up at tattoos, but in this case I believe people when they say it's a work of art. Tweety Bird and Pokemon are not, but this man's body canvas most definitely is.
Jay still mocks my addiction. He insists Adam is a pocket person. This is obviously Jay's own insecurity about being 6 feet tall and built like, well, more like DB. (Again, the similarities are all right there!). But.....he refuses to feel threatened by this little man with the woman's voice. He's slowly come around to not hating him quite as much as I brainwash him with hours upon hours of The Voice. (By the way, thank you Christina "The Cunt" Aguilera, Cee Lo "Superfreak" Green, and Blake "drunk hick" Shelton for making Adam seem less retarded compared to the three of you.)
So what if most of the men in my love life only exist in my mind? Though I may be older and my body might not be, my mind is still very much a wonderland, and if my fake crushes keep me in that cat in heat mode, that can only be a GOOD thing for the one I truly love. After all, isn't that the real life fairy tale? Okay, that and a threesome with one of the above, but I've got plenty of time to dream of that.
