Suddenly, I have this bizarre attraction to this man:
Wait. What? No. Really?
I’m not into rock, though sure, a few Aerosmith songs of course take me back to slow dancing in the junior high gym. I don’t dig skinny dudes with rear-hugging jeans (ok Kel, Kenny excluded). I generally don’t go for the men with long locks (though you have to admit, his waves and highlights are fabu). I’m usually not going for the “men of a certain age” (read: over 45). And it’s highly questionable that I’d end up with someone who wears more jewels than me.
But between the eccentricity, his complete and total confidence in who he is, his kindness in delivering feedback to hopeful souls, just-right fake tan, a scarf collection to die for, a wailing voice and telling facial expressions…I think I’m falling.
Ok, not like the kind that can’t get up, but falling nonetheless…
I don’t get it…but maybe there is a bit of groupie in all of us?