My New Years resolution this year is a simple one. I want to overcome the short-circuit in my brain which only allows me to be attracted to men that I simultaneously despise. I’m going to ease myself in gently via my celebrity crushes, with I’m A Celebrity’s Mark Wright first on my agenda to be eradicated.
It is one of the most infuriating laws of nature that the most arrogant men are frequently the most fanciable. Usually I find this a bit of a chicken or the egg question, but I bet Mark Wright was conceited in Carol’s womb. In fact, with a mother as supernaturally cold as his, as a fetus it seems likely that Mark’s only nourishment was derived from his own smugness. He’s definitely the type of man who wanks in front of the mirror. Then again I’m the type of man who wanks in front of The Only Way Is Essex, so I’m probably not in a position to judge (that moment at his pool party where he brandished a bottle of champagne and gruffly asked a gaggle of slappers who wanted to ‘get sprayed’ is one of the single most erotic moments of my life. It’s possible that this says more about me than him but it’s always my policy never to dwell on your own failings).
In my head there’s a constant tug of war raging between the certain knowledge that if I’d been at school with Mark he would have brutalized me behind the bike sheds, and the niggling suspicion that I’d have been aroused. In fact, isn’t widely accepted that gay men grow up to be most attracted to the boys who were most mean to them during their formative years? It’s why half the gays in America end up wasting the best years of their lives going to the gym so they can look like jocks. Self-loathing, innit? I want to break the cycle of abuse, and to do that I simply have to stop fantasizing about Mark spitting in my face.
Problem is, I know Mark is a terrible person, but I constantly find ways to justify his fundamental vileness. Sure, he treated Lauren with the kind of contempt usually reserved by Daily Mail readers for peadophiles and benefit cheats, but she IS quite annoying. And from the neck up looks like a drag act loosely based on Ursula from The Little Mermaid. Frankly, Mark deserves better. At the very least he deserves an acknowledgment that he has somehow found a loophole in the natural order of the universe whereby he can wear a cap backwards and STILL make me want to have sex with him. Ditto cowl neck t-shirts. Ditto deep V t-shirts.... I digress.
My other new years resolution is to stop telling friends I’m busy when actually I’m eating ice-cream in the bath while listening to Stevie Nicks, but I think its best to cross one bridge at a time, don’t you?
