Saturday, 14 July 2012
Wednesday, 4 July 2012
Greg 4 Hazel, 2gether 4ever.
I’ve got it bad. Really
bad. Quite possibly worse than my life threatening crush on George Michael in 1984 when I watched
the "Club Tropicana" video a zillion times and cried myself to sleep every night
because I couldn’t touch those delicious bouffant streaks.
It’s inexcusable really,
what with me being a middle aged mother but I can’t help it. I am madly in love
with Greg Davies.
There. I said it.
Suddenly I feel twelve again - perched
on the bench at the school disco, waiting for Adrian Fowler to ask me to
dance to Hot Chocolate’s “It Started With a Kiss”. I can almost feel the itch of my woollen legwarmers and smell the heady scent of Tweed perfume mingled with pre-teen desperation. But my twelve year old crush on
Adrian was a perfectly natural part of growing up whereas my forty year old crush on Greg
Davies is bordering on the ridiculous. I've watched all the YouTube clips, re-runs of Mock the Week and Never Mind the Buzzcocks. I've even ordered Firing Cheeseballs at a Dog from Amazon. Next I’ll be working out love
percentages and practising writing 'Hazel Davies' in my secret diary.
When you’re a six foot tall woman, finding a man taller than you can be
challenging. I rather like to feel feminine, despite not being a girly girl.
Memories of walking off the kerb so my head was in line with my first
boyfriend are excruciating as is the memory of only knowing how to dance the lead at
my best friends wedding because I had so often been cast as a man in school
dance lessons.
I like the thought of
being able to rest my head on a man’s chest without having to crouch down. At 6
foot 8 inches tall and with a lovely broad chest Greg seems like just the man
to fit the bill.
*sigh*
But it’s not his glorious stature that I’ve fallen for. He could
be 4 foot 11 with a hunchback and a limp and I would still find him insanely attractive. It’s not even his lovely
smile or apparently gentle nature (although this helps). It’s quite simply the fact that everything
he says makes me laugh like a drain.
You can keep
your Gerard Butlers and Brad Pitts. I don't see what all the fuss is about Christian Bale and Matthew McConaughey. Who needs six packs and bulging biceps when you can have warmth and wit? Give me a man who can make me laugh till I’m
sore and I’ll be the happiest person alive. It would just be a bonus if his thighs were larger than mine.
So Greg this is for you. Not that you’ll ever read this blog
post or know anything about me. But isn’t that what harmless crushes are all about, experiencing
the pleasure of something without any of the risks that come with the real
thing? Oh and by the way, our love percentage is 98% so if you do see this, call me.
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