This post is part of a Gen Fab Blog-Hop called “My Celebrity Crush.” I wrote it a couple years ago; though the status of a few things has changed— my feelings haven’t.
What’s not to love?
He has it all. He’s politically correct, witty, speaks Italian, beloved by Brad Pitt and Julia Roberts and all the women I know—who would line up to give him their hand in marriage or their vote for president or their firstborn child.
I was always at the front of that line. But our personal relationship has run its course.
The break up isn’t what you think—-and it’s not sour grapes because a woman named Amy Ferris wrote a book I could have written called Marrying George Clooney.
It’s not even sour grapes that Marrying George Clooney might actually happen to that Italian bombshell he’s dating. (update: Stacy Kiebler) If he does marry her,
I hope she gets fat I wish them lots of happiness.
But we’re officially over— I’m dumping him for someone else.
My change of heart has been coming for a long time. And it hasn’t been an easy decision; it’s taken soul searching—and even overcoming some Freudian issues— because George looks like a hip version of my father at that age.
And maybe age is the key word here: mine.
At this age—and this stage—- I’m all over George— and I’m all about Alec Baldwin.
And not just because Alec also blogs for the Huffington Post (although maybe that would that qualify as meeting cute.)
Back in the day, Alec out-Clooneyed Clooney. He was beauty AND the beast—-hairy and hunky and hot enough to sizzle —and fizzle—with Kim Basinger.
He never lit my fire. Too slick, too arrogant, too handsome, too Hollywood.
The 21st century model is more my speed. As Alec has GROWN (in so many ways), he’s grown on me, too.
There’s something solid and comforting about a teddy bear of a man. And most movie stars are the opposite.
Since the screen adds pounds, this makes George a heavyweight only in star wattage. And I’ve never been willing to date a man whose jeans are a smaller waist size than mine.
Not an issue with Alec. He’s flirting with high cholesterol, not with starlets.
Looking at George by comparison, I realize it’s possible this man might not even order dessert— much less eat it. What fun can that be?
Alec is a man after my heart—-who’s allowed his appetite to take precedence over his image—a large man who is living large.
And speaking of large, let’s take a little pause to dispatch the elephant in the room—-that tempest on the telephone a few years ago with his daughter . Let’s face it, who hasn’t lost it with their kids? There are times when almost every parent is only one step away from a breakdown—-or an arrest.
For me, his pain in public and the press only adds points on his side. Whereas George has had it easy——with no wife, no kids, no encumbrances— he hasn’t suffered. And in order to build some character, you need to bleed— in the metaphorical sense.
Alec’s vulnerable….he’s bled…and he’s better for it. Not only personally, but professionally.
Take their career trajectories. Everyone is gaga for George. His career just gets bigger—so surely his head must be growing in similar proportion.
George has gone only in one direction—up. Whereas Alec has experienced a plunge in professional prestige, descending the Hollywood paradigm from feature films onto the small screen. He’s not pursued by the paparazzi; not a worldwide sex symbol. And here’s my philosophy about men who look like gods: better to lust-—-but not trust.
Alec wears the weight of experience.
He’s been tempered and trained by the best teachers —an emotionally unstable ex-wife and a teenage daughter.
For the long haul, women want a man who values brains along with beauty. As evidence, I submit his long-standing love affair with Tina Fey.
You gotta love this guy. So what do you think…..a book called Marrying Alec Baldwin?