Things are getting a little deep around here, so it’s time to lighten things up, even just for a moment. If you have ever spent any amount of time in my company, you may be aware that I keep a rotating list of my future husbands, which while they may seem to come and go with the times, is actually pretty steady. But before I go forward on that list, I should pay homage to the man who started it all:
I don’t remember when I first gazed my youthful eyes his way, but I do remember making massive bargains in my youth with my mother to skip the Sunday night church services to watch The Hardy Boys Mysteries. Thank the gods Catholics are obsessed with multiple weekend services or else I would have never met the man of my five-year old dreams. I also remember that same holiday season, I got a 6′ poster of my beloved which was pinned to the back of my bedroom door for years. I was also a heavy collector of his work, and while I have lost my original copy of his seminal album, Shaun Cassidy, I was able to replace it later on.
Before I begin, I need to clarify the difference between a “future husband” and a crush. A crush is someone like Travis Fimmel who plays Ragnar Lothbrook in the History Channel’s Vikings, someone I am partially familiar with and not currently building a shrine in their honor.
A “future husband” is someone whom I probably follow their career to some extent, probably keep tabs on their love life to file away for a later date, and some whom I’d probably would leave my husband for, no questions asked. (Just kidding. Maybe.)
When Benedict Cumberbatch wants to tap that ass, you know it’s legit.
I first came across McAvoy in a 2004 film, Rory O’Shea Was Here. The film wasn’t distributed in the US, but showed up in my Netflix recommendations sometime around 2005. While I’ve seen McAvoy in his earlier works, THIS would be the film that set the course for my one true love.
What I adore about him is in interviews, he’s goofy. Smart. Witty. In his work, he plays such a wide range and breadth of characters, time periods, and stories that it sometimes takes my breath away. I have yet to see McAvoy as a terrible actor in anything he does. The films may be shit, but McAvoy always gives it his all. I also love that he has no pretensions of himself, he can go from brooding heart throb to psycho maniac in the blink of an eye.
My little Scottish imp also has a thing for the old broads – his wife is the same age as me.
Interesting fact: McAvoy and Benedict Cumberbatch were in Starter for 10 together, which also turned out to be my first exposure to Cumberbatch. Who knew!
This one should not be a huge surprise – Henry ticks off all the major boxes for me. He’s wicked smart, he’s complex, he’s got tattoos, and he’s heavily ambitious. Rollins lives the kind of life that I always try to aspire to live: balls to the wall, try anything once, no holds barred, let us go!
I got into Rollins after Black Flag broke up, so I’m not terribly sure where he kind of fell into my lap. I do know that I catch his speaking tours any chance I get, watch his stand up, and check out a book or two of his when I can. Rollins is dangerous not because he’s a bad boy and knows it kind of way, but in the he’s just such the complete package coupled with the damned charm, turning him down for anything would be the biggest mistake of my life.
When your own husband tells you he’d leave you for this man, then you know it’s true love.
Like most of America, I got introduced to Skarsgård via True Blood and like most of America, was getting into pissing contests with their BFFs over who was the hottest vamp or shifter we’d not kick out of bed for eating crackers.
(For my birthday, a girlfriend made me a wallpaper for my iPad of this image with “Happy Birthday Lisa” on it. Done and done.)
Ridiculously tall, especially after the shortness of Rollins and McAvoy, Skarsgård just oozes sex even when he’s playing a doofus. In addition to the amazing body that makes my ovaries kick into overtime, he’s got a biting and dirty sense of humour that plays well with my intellectual side. Every interview I caught him in, I think I’ve squealed a million times over because his mouth and mind are so damn filthy. At this point in True Blood, he is the only thing that is keeps me watching. If he gets killed off for the next season, I am done.
It’s interesting because when a Benedict Cumberbatch thing happens, or Tom Hiddleston thing happens or someone of that ilk, people send it my way thinking they too are on part of my oeuvre. While these men are fine actors and pleasing to the eye, there is nothing about them that calls to my soul like the above three.
Over the years I’ve kept a similar list rotating in and out of my head, and while some tastes have changed, what hasn’t changed is what I look for in a man. I need the brain and the beauty, having a lovely piece of fluff is not going to do it for me. I also, apparently, get hives around nice men. When I found out Ian Somerhalder, who plays Damone Salvatore on The Vampire Diaries, was the complete opposite of his conniving, manipulating ways on the show, I lost interest.