kinky and a little wrong

So we spoke of our embarrassing crushes we held throughout youth (Harry Potter and Zac Efron for L, Taylor Hanson and JTT for myself). But a similar consideration with all things crushes are those secret ones you are afraid to admit for fear of public scorn, and enquiries as to your sanity and basic taste.

And no, I don't refer to basic taste differences. Whilst my friend G believes I deserve to be committed for my love of musicians that stink of cigarettes, sweat and week old jeans, I cannot fathom M's fascination with the Efron/Pitt/pretty boy mould, nor can I completely understand L's appreciation of Kirin Callinan.

What I am talking about are those very secret desires which you cannot explain nor rationalise even to yourself. Let me give you an example or three of my own weaknesses....

1. Paul Keating-

I had previously hinted at this little lust, however now it is time to come clean. I cannot explain it, perhaps it's the receding hairline, or his blatantly crude political insults. Perhaps its his almost deranged hatred he has maintained for John Howard after all these years. Whatever it is, this former Prime Minister gets by blood going.

On that note, it seems I have a bit of a thing for former Labor PM's, as I also have a soft spot for Gough Whitlam and Bob Hawke. Please all pray they I do not suffer the same affliction once K-Rudd is ousted from power. He is a sanctimonious little shit.

2. Matt PrestonI know he has become somewhat of a gastro-sex symbol post Masterchef, so perhaps this isn't such an odd fetish. However I just cannot go past that amazing head of hair, impeccable dress sense and perfect fusion British-Australian accent. He is the perfect gentleman- amazing meals would be shared whilst discussing politics (we both have politics degrees- what a match made in heaven!).

The only downside? I take offence to people criticising my food.

3. Tim Freedman-
Universally despised as the quintessential 'Newtown Wanker', the lead singer of Australian group The Whitlams has always tickled my fancy. As a twelve year old, Love This City provided the soundtrack to my summers, and I clearly remember shouting "there's no aphrodisiac like loneliness" completely oblivious to the song meaning.

As a twenty year old, my classical music upbringing had me watching The Whitlams accompanied by a symphony orchestra. As Tim sat by the piano, sipping red wine between verses, I imagined becoming his young lover for a few months over a Sydney winter. I would be schooled in poetry, wine appreciation and foreign cinema.
Our parting would be painful, however through my substance-addled mourning period, I would produce profound lyrics and melodies and re-enter the world culturally schooled.


Quite clearly I was an odd twenty year old. Or maybe I just have an obsession with Sydney musicians named Tim? Hmmm....

I'm very much looking forward to L's contribution to this topic.... I'm sure it shall be just fabulous