The Cynical Goody-Goody and Her Men

I suppose this is as good a topic as any for Christmas Week....

A new visitor to this blog might not expect this of the author of a blog with “erotica” in the title, but anyone who knows me at all is well aware: I am a total goody-goody. Yes, even about sex, which I really want to be wholesome and healthy all the time. While I’m anything but perfect (I could list dozens of faults for you, but that would not be Christmas-y, LOL), I am also a ridiculously upstanding citizen. I have fears of and/or aversions to drugs, drunkenness, breaking the rules (even jaywalking), sexual perversions, cruelty in any form, etc.

Meanwhile, I harbor no illusions that reality is a safe or comfortable haven for goody-goodies, as must as I wish it were so. You see, I grew up influenced equally by Rodgers & Hammerstein musicals and the terrible headlines of the late 60’s. I love books and movies with happy endings, but I’ve found very few people in real life who behave anything like the fictional characters I idolize. I spent 15 years married to a gay man who (understandably really) was unfaithful to me for all of them. Meanwhile, I am now married 15 years to a man who has been faithful to me for all of them.

Life has certainly sent me a mixed message.

I am not really changing topics now, as you will see shortly.

My regular readers know that I spent a lot of months quite devotedly fixated with Neil Gaiman. Certainly that wasn’t the only crush upon which I’ve expounded here, but probably the one you could most thoroughly study were you interested enough to go back to all the posts (and who would be? LOL).

So what happened with that? Well, as always happens, I eventually saw enough about him that I didn’t like, and my infatuation died. Don’t get me wrong, I still admire (and one might even say am still in love with) the genius qualities about the man. I certainly adore his work. but I couldn’t sustain the romance with those faults just so up-in-my-face. The emotions went dormant...they only come out occasionally when they are directed toward an utterly imagined version of Neil that is obviously all my concoction.

I recognize that it is neither fair nor reasonable for me to withhold my infatuations from less-than-perfect guys. I know all about real life and real people. But I just can’t help it. When the guy I crushed on all freshman year was snide in the way he signed my yearbook, I was devastated. I’ve reacted likewise to idols who have (1) gotten arrested for public drunkenness, (2) “defected” to another sports team, (3) been caught using drugs, (4) treated their fans coldly, (5) divorced their wives for other women, etc. (I’m not referring to Tiger Woods here, but you can guess my opinion of him.)

Christmas is a very romantic time to my mind. Just as we all strive to find the perfect gift, throw the perfect party, have the perfect family gathering, at holiday time I think about perfect romance. I get really sentimental about whatever celebrity I might currently be dreaming about. So more than ever, my demanding goody-goody heart cannot tolerate less than heroic behavior.

A few days before Christmas this year I glommed on to my holiday-time fixation for 2009. I saw singer/songwriter Ben Folds as a judge on the NBC show “The Sing-Off.” I can’t resist anyone who can talk intelligently about music, particularly in such an upbeat and good-natured way. I checked out his music more fully and found I really love it.

The Internet is a curse to goody-goodies such as myself. You can hold on to your illusions about a celebrity for only as long as it takes to Google them and read some biographies. Ben Folds’ “crime” is that he’s on his fourth wife. Now the rational, cynical, coldly realistic part of me says, “You can’t judge a guy (a) when you’ve never walked in his shoes and (b) when you don’t know him in the slightest.” My best guess is that Ben is like most people: really wonderful in many ways, really terrible in others, and no worse than average.

Still, my goody-goody self yearns for a man who can talk brilliantly about music in an upbeat and good-natured way, and also has no flaws at all. Yes, I know I’m a terrible person. Didn’t I mention that right up front? The best I can do is be in love with the part of Ben Folds that initially caught my fancy, and give the rest of him the benefit of the doubt. That sort of works, but not as well as I would wish for. Bummer, but that’s life.

That said, what keeps my goody-goody hopes alive is that not all my idols have done things to let me down. I’m sure they’ve got faults too, but they are not such apparent and glaring ones that I can’t overlook them, even with my insane standards. A couple of examples of my personal heroes who have not failed me in any respect are Guy Carbonneau and Les Stroud. Both of them are brilliantly talented in their respective fields, and seem also to be good, principled, disciplined men.

While I don’t necessarily fantasize about these two every night anymore (not that I’m admitting I ever did, ahem!), I can and do think of them fondly whenever they come to mind. I appreciate and treasure them for being in that tiny category of heroes that have managed to remain on their pedestals. And icing on the cake is that both have had actual personal dealings with me and treated me with great kindness.

By the way, there’s one more guy in this tiny, special category that I should mention: The one I’ve been married to for the past 15 years. I figured out pretty fast that David was a man of principles and integrity, and time has proven me right.

I may have a ridiculous way of crushing and uncrushing on people, but in the final analysis, I’m no dummy.

Holiday Dreams Redux

Three years ago I blogged about my favorite holiday fantasies and I’m in the mood to indulge again likewise. While my real life is pretty darn good Christmas-wise (happy, healthy, employed family; super awesome husband; great cats hiding under the tree, etc.), it’s still fun to imagine the holiday in some alternate universes....

A Dexter Christmas in Miami. The charming serial killer takes me for a ride on the good ship Slice of Life, as the sun sets on a glorious tropical day. His boombox plays “Christmas Island,” Jimmy Buffett carol covers, and steel drum songs, and we sip mojitos. Dexter’s heart blooms with holiday cheer as I tell him that even though I know all about his nefarious career, I completely get it. No one should be alone on Christmas, after all! Forget Rita and “the kids” for now; this is a night for me to enjoy Dexter’s wit and dangerous good looks.


A “Lie to Me” Christmas in Las Vegas. Cal Lightman takes me on a preview of the Strip (I’m going in real life in January for the first time), for who better knows the ins and outs of Vegas? Watching him see through every poker face, and listening to him whisper about hidden truths in that great British accent, I’m eager to get him back to our glamorous suite. We’ll eat pricey hors d’oeuvres from room service, drink champagne, and play Truth or Dare. Of course he always wins, but that’s not a bad thing....

WMHS Christmas Concert with Mr. Schu. In this one I can sing exactly like Idina Menzel, and get to join the “Glee” gang as guest artist at the McKinley High Christmas Concert. What fun being conducted by the handsome and sexy Will! He and I bring the house down with our duet of “O Holy Night” (what a voice he has). But my personal favorite moment is singing and dancing with him to “The Christmas Waltz.” Of course, afterwards in private he’ll treat me to a glorious performance of “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” Whatever you are, Mr. Schu.

The Merlotte’s Christmas Party/Fangtasia Holiday Bash. I just have to jet down to Bon Temps to hang out with the gang at Merlotte’s. Definitely will need to get Sam, Bill, and Jason all under the mistletoe. Wow, that would be something, wouldn’t it? And just as good would be hanging out with the vampires at Fangtasia. I’m sure Eric would be in a generous mood for the holiday. I’d be happy to sit at his feet waiting for a little nip, and I don’t mean eggnog.


Holiday Time in Alphabet City. As much as the storyline of “Rent” pulls no punches about the downside of life, I’d sure love some candlelight time with Roger and Mark in their cold New York apartment. We could sing carols (and my favorite songs from the show) while Roger played guitar. Mark could teach me how to play dreidel. Two guys for one girl? Heck, that’s la vie boheme, right?

A Christmas Drink with My Favorite Doctors. Speaking of two for one, I could take a side trip to New Jersey and swing by Princeton Plainsboro Hospital. Imagine martinis with Drs. House and Wilson...now that would be interesting. And by “interesting,” I mean, hard to decide which guy is sexier. And what could be more festive than watching House annoy Wilson while they each get progressively tipsier? I’d definitely volunteer to be designated driver in order to spend the night in that nice new condo of theirs.

Four Calling Nerds (yes, that’s a weak 12 Days of Christmas reference). Call out for Thai food and let’s play Rock-Paper-Scissors-Lizard-Spock under the tree! Yes, for some inexplicable reason I’d love to enjoy some holiday time with Sheldon, Leonard, Howard and Raj from “The Big Bang Theory.” Now that I know how to play with dreidels, Howard could explain the physics. Leonard could provide some nice music on his cello while rolling his eyes at Howard. Raj wouldn’t speak at all of course, but he’d look darn cute. And Sheldon could say anything at all and I’d love it. I’m sure he’d wear a Christmas sweater with a diagram about quasars on it.


Christmas with My Dear Vampire Conner. How could my holiday be complete without celebrating with the hero of How to Catch and Keep a Vampire? As those of you who have read the book know, Conner was alive, er, undead in the time of Shakespeare. Consequently he knows how to celebrate Christmas in the 15th Century way, complete with decorating the Holy Bough, singing Medieval carols accompanied by the lute, and doing those incredibly cool Renaissance dances like the pavane. He’ll make a fine blaze in the hearth, pour us some nice hot wassail, and tell me stories literally of Christmases long, long ago. It will be my pleasure to give him a little holiday draught, and then he’ll sing me to sleep by singing the Coventry Carol. Lovely.