We are strange creatures indeed…
So. There I was, farting around on Facebook, as one does on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
One of my friends shared something from Vin Diesel’s FB page.
I like him. Very much. There’s a new Riddick movie coming out and I would actually do things to go and see that on the big screen – the first Riddick was seriously cool, so I’m hoping the next one will be just as good.
I liked his FB page. Will see if I will now get updates from him like I do Hugh Jackman.
Now. I’m not a celebrity junkie. what they do with their lives is not even remotely interesting to me. They are just people, with quite a lot more money than me, and seemingly a lot less sense. Do I really care who’s shagging who, and who was caught doing a line of coke, or was showing off her lack of panties? No, I don’t.
I like watching them in the movies. Because that’s a fantasy world. Do I want Mr Jackman to visit me? Can’t say I do, unless he’s Wolverine or van Helsing. Mr Diesel? Same. I can quite imagine what it must feel like to touch that smooth skin of his, but I do think that I’ll be like a deer in headlights should that opportunity present itself!! Or just make as if I have no idea who he is – so as not to let the ego get any worse than it already is 😉 And he must be in his guise as Xander from XXX. Nothing else will do.
Because it’s not him, the person, I like.
It’s him, the movie actor. The fantasy. The guy with the tattoos, or the guy with the blades on his hands. I like the person they portray. That’s what I think about when I say I like them. I love Johnny Depp in Chocolat.
Probably not. Because in the movies they are larger than life. They are somewhat bad, but their emotions runs deep, and they do have a good side to them. They can apologise, they can try and make things right. They can fight for justice and keep me safe. Or avenge me after the bad guys have done something bad to me.
They’re not quite real. And it’s the not quite real that I like. The person portrayed on screen probably has little to do with the person they are when they wake up in the morning.
I’m not quite deluded enough to believe that such men exist. I’m well aware of the fact that Hollywood movies has little or no concept of real life. Which is why I like the fantasy characters more than the real life ones. In the fantasy, they move in a world far enough removed from mine that I can wonder about it, imagine life in that milieu. Because it’s a complete fabrication, I can immerse myself in it without getting it confused with life as I know it.
I’m not me. I’m beautiful, perfectly coiffed, gorgeously dressed.
And is that not what fantasy is all about?