When is it no longer acceptable, as an almost 41 year old woman, to have a crush on a pop star? And I don’t just mean that I swoon whenever I see a photo of him, I mean I am truly smitten. His voice takes me to places I haven’t been in years and I have, in my daydreaming moments, planned a life with him. I have it all worked out. Sadly it does not include my current family but you know, I’m sure we could work out some kind of timeshare scheme whereby I get to see whoever I want whenever I want. I’m not greedy I just want what I want. What’s wrong with that?
I say ‘pop star’ but he’s so much more than that. He’s indie/rock and he’s… well, he’s, he’s, he’s lush, really lush. And his voice is so emotional and vulnerable I just feel he needs looking after and hello, I just know we’d be perfectly matched, in every way.
I feel completely immature, ridiculous, air-headed, pathetic and if I’m honest, slightly embarrassed. But I can’t help myself. If it was acceptable for soon to be 41 year old women to have posters up all over their bedroom, I would be enveloped from head to toe in Nate Ruess. He’s the lead singer of the band Fun and I think I love him. Google him. Do Images first and then Wikipedia him. I hope you’ll be pleasantly surprised. God, if he had been at school the same time as me – I would have died every day just looking at his face. I’m glad he wasn’t because if he was and if he’d had a girlfriend then I’d be in prison now serving life for first degree murder. The bitch wouldn’t have stood a chance.
I think he’s fab, I really do. When I’m cooking and everyone else is doing their own thing i.e. TV, PC, DS, DVD, and all the other abbreviations that people occupy themselves with these days, I close the kitchen door, turn up Nate’s sultry tones and I sing along like there’s no tomorrow. Occasionally I dance. You’ve heard of Dad Dancing, this is SO Mum Dancing that even I’m embarrassed. But I think f*** it, and I get down. I used to be able to dance, I really did. I still have rhythm but for some reason when I do those really cool moves that Beyoncé does (oh yeah baby – you better believe it), I just look like a deranged fat woman on speed. It’s not pretty.
This brings to mind the fact that my eldest is having a sleepover for his birthday next Saturday evening. I have threatened to dance in front of his friends and he is worried, seriously worried; he’s not entirely convinced I’ll do it but I am his mother and he knows me, so on a scale of 1 to 10, he is currently at 10. It doesn’t get any more worrying than that. There’s nothing I like better than humiliating myself in public. As Oscar Wilde said, “Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.” That’s what I’m hoping to achieve next week. That’s on my List Of Things To Do.
So, if you’re as sad as me then please have a look at Nate. (Not that you need to be sad to listed to Nate – au contraire.) Listen to the album Fun – Some Nights. I would add that I am not at all affiliated with the band or its production company or any of that stuff, so there is nothing in it for me. I’m simply sharing a bit of love. A bit of Nate love. I also love the New Radicals’ only album Maybe You’ve Been Brainwashed Too – I have literally torn the arse out of this album – I know all the lyrics, all the instruments and I sound exactly like Gregg Alexander when I sing. Ok, so maybe that’s a slight exaggeration but it is a really cool album and so sad that they only made the one. They’re another band that should have received more attention than they ever did. The album is wonderful, every single track, but my all time favourite is the last one – Cry Like A Church On Monday. When everyone is either tucked up in bed or snoring on the sofa with the TV on too loud, and I have my headphones on and am on my fifth, sixth or seventh glass of wine, this song does it for me. It is simply beautiful. And, I’m really good at singing it, really good. Although I normally only sing it when everyone’s asleep so it is only my opinion. So far, no-one has died whilst I have been singing it and I take that to be a good sign.
So, I’m 41 going on 15. Seriously, I am almost an embarrassment to myself. But I think I’ve earned my stripes. And if I want to be in love with someone who is younger than me, if I want to dribble over their album covers and sing their songs when the world has gone to bed, no-one can stop me. That is my guilty pleasure and it is mine, all mine.