You remember a few weeks ago when I said, ‘no actors, no army‘?
Well, fuck that. I wrote those words before I knew about James Franco. I mean, I did know about James Franco – in that my friend David had shown me his picture on Google Images and said, ‘isn’t he fit?’ But I didn’t know about him – in that I hadn’t paid attention to just how perfect his teeth were (not Hollywood perfect, I’m English, that’s unnecessary), or those lips; how they can suck you right inside his face and allow you, for the briefest moment, to brush against his soul. (Even when they’re shouting words about ejaculating over a porno magazine in a really bad movie that also stars Seth Rogen.)
It’s like what my Nan always says: love appears in your life only at the precise moment when you stop looking for it.
Before you start judging me, as I know is your wont, I’d like to point out that my ardour cannot be dismissed as a celebrity crush that has no basis in reality – I’m a grown woman who is far too worldly-wise for that. This is actual love. Seriously. It is. James and I could be together. Consider: I’ve got a mate who lives in LA and I visit him sometimes and we hang out in fairly up-market places. I’ve got another mate who does costume on big Hollywood movies. So, you know, our paths will cross eventually.
Also, it’s not like I’m an entirely unattractive prospect. I’m sharp as nails, intellectually. I’ve got big blue eyes and a D cup cleavage and a very pert pair of buttocks. I look delicious in leather trousers and I always wear toe-nail polish. Alright, yes, I’ve gone all 1970s with my bikini line, but James Franco seems hipster enough to cope with that. And – I’ve thought about this – even if it freaks him out a bit at first, it’ll be good for him to learn compromise.
And we’ve got loads in common, according to Wikipedia and some things I’ve half remembered from newspaper articles. Like me, James is a PhD student with a large loving family who kind of does but kind of doesn’t believe in God. He did well at school, but had a few raucous teenage years when he did unwise things, like drinking 20/20 and smoking weed. He teaches at a university. Some people think he’s a bit arrogant and dickish. He was a vegetarian for ages and then started eating meat again, for no real reason. He writes. And listen to this – I’ve just remembered it – my mum once told me that she was going to call me James if I had been a boy.
It must be fate. I have NEVER found a man I’ve had this much in common with before and I’ve been single for a really long time. It makes all the terrible dates with amateur drug dealers and the ones cancelled an hour before we were meant to meet because he ‘broke his arm’ feel worthwhile.
Now it is simply a case of sitting back and waiting for James to enter my world. While, obviously, pretending I’m doing no such thing, so as not to scare him off. In the meantime, I’ll be practicing meditation, continuing to engage with the optimism that has developed as a pleasant addition to my mood palette and putting my trust in the universe, which I’m sure has no motive for ruining my life.
Hang on in there readers. I’m sure fate has a plan for you, too.