Let's hear it for the boy... who wears glasses

I've always been fascinated by the idea that a man becomes more distinguished with age while a woman just gets castigated for trying too hard to hold onto her youth. Similarly wearing glasses is not considered a passion killer for men, but the old phrase 'men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses' was so deeply ingrained in my psyche that I refused to be seen in public in my glasses for the first ten years of my glasses wearing life. Even now I am convinced that I'm treated differently when I wear them, although it's probably the rest of my 'can't be bothered to make an effort' outfit of jogging bottoms and ragged old uni sweatshirt that give offence rather than my eyewear.

For my own part I've always been partial to a bookish looking chap (Exhibit A: Hubbie) and think that it's quite sexy to look a bit nerdy. I prefer to know that a man can speak another language as it just isn't appealing to me to be able to bench press a London bus. Of course if the man in question is also stacked that's a bonus, but I'm guilty of assuming that if he's pretty or fit he's probably a bit thick. In my dating days I was set up with a chap who I was assured was just right for me. As were they all, but proved in reality the legend 'no plan can withstand contact with the enemy' to be true. This truism was etched onto the wall of my friend's downstairs loo for many years (and probably still is).

I digress, of course, but the point is that once I met this man he was as far from right for me as humanly possible. It started off ok with his impressive collection of vinyl and a lovely flat with skylight in the leafy environs of Southfields. He showed me his car - which he loved and which was made of plastic and was an Alpha Romeo and was red. That's all I recall of the car - sorry Top Gear fanatics. We were supposed to have lunch, but for some reason we ended up eating cheese on toast in his flat - oh don't worry it gets worse.  For a start he didn't appear to have any books. I asked if he read and he told me of course he did and pointed out the motoring magazines on the coffee table. Sharp intake of breath as I realised I was in the company of someone who owned no books, not a one. Now I may have mentioned this before, but I will say it again for emphasis. If you say to me that you don't read you may as well say that you kill small animals for fun or you eat children for a snack.

It's almost as bad as when I was set up with a man who "is just right for you - he likes films." Now there's my "likes films" which is the Blues Brothers, Some Like it Hot and Blade Runner and there was his which was pretty much Star Wars and that's it. The only saving grace was that we could blend in and avoid each other as we were at a fancy dress party where I went as Minnie Mouse (with ears I'd fashioned from a cereal packet) and he was some unidentified african leader. I shudder to imagine who exactly it was in those pre-freed Nelson Mandela days.

I guess my point is that you can't really decide who someone else is going to be attracted to based on what you know about them. Some people genuinely do like the opposite of themselves and some prefer a person who likes all the same things as them. I even know one couple who look so alike that they used to be mistaken for siblings rather than husband and wife - now that is just icky !!

Which brings me back to men who look a bit clever (whether or not they wear glasses) and as always to George Clooney who is both hunky and clever, John Cusack who is super clever and more than a little handsome and Alex O'Loughlin who… well he's just delicious so who cares if he's bright ?

Clooney in cuffs causes chaos

This afternoon the news wires almost melted at the overexcited news that George Clooney had been arrested during a protest. Even Krishnan Gurumurthy - an otherwise respectable news journo type - delivered a breathy promo for Channel 4 news exclaiming that we should all contain our excitement at Clooney in handcuffs. This evening he's been released having posted bail of around £63 ($100) and has notched up a few more cool points which he kind of lost having appeared in the Kony video without his knowledge. 

At the same time the director of the Kony film (Jason Russell) has allegedly been arrested for public disorder of the drunken and masturbatory kind. Not really what we expect of an evangelical Christian and father of two young children who likes to make manipulative videos with dubious factual content. We completely expect Clooney to get arrested at a protest, just like we expect Sean Penn to offer an opinion on international politics without irony or reference to the country he calls home. Just like we expect Angelina Jolie to pitch up after a humanitarian crisis with her shopping list of criteria for the next addition to the Jolie-Pitt brood. 

I'm not cynical about movie stars getting involved in politics, but I am disinterested in them wandering in to foreign countries to research a supposed answer and reporting back to the rest of us. It's not as if America doesn't have poverty, natural disasters or racially motivated conflicts. It just isn't quite as easy to fix if it's on home turf. 

A dual approach has to be the way to go as far as I'm concerned. Get involved locally and take an interest internationally and at least you've got your bases covered. If you are very concerned about the poor children in Africa, but are sniffy about someone who sleeps in a doorway and begs for some change from you I'd say you've got a perspective issue to deal with. 

Fame does add kudos to a good cause though and if you don't have a celebrity endorsement you can kiss farewell to any donations until you get a minor soap actress or reality star to tell Hello magazine how great you are. I only mention this as I've gone back into fundraising and it is terrifying and lonely all at once. 

I have an office all by myself, a cause I've never fundraised for before and I work in a school which I pretty much swore I'd never do again once I completed my teaching degree. Add to this the fact that I miss being with my son and I have to admit it's not looking like a triumphant return to work for me. More like an elaborate attempt to get out of running around after the toddler from the Weetabix commercial every day.

Well at least it's the weekend tomorrow and I have a long yoga class on Saturday afternoon and hopefully a lovely relaxing Mothering Sunday. In the meantime I can consider my days of actually doing something worthwhile and ponder whether I would have gotten arrested for any of the causes I worked for. If there was a chance of being cuffed to Gorgeous George… probably. Otherwise… probably not. 

lip-smacking, gnocchi-making, cheerleading, hubbieman :o)

So I was watching Ocean's Eleven the other evening and while I drooled watching Brad and George it occurred to me that I have very pedestrian taste in the men I lust after from afar. It isn't like I'm the only one to have noticed that William Bradley Pitt is a good looking chap so I console myself with the knowledge that I noticed him first.

It was while watching Thelma and Louise at university (as an example of feminism in film) that my least feminist thoughts came to me about the character of JD. It's mainly that thing he does when he licks his lips - which any girl who has read romantic fiction will tell you is what the hero does right before he kisses you passionately.

Similarly I remember George - before he was considered gorgeous - as Booker in Roseanne, a wholly unlikeable character who dated Roseanne's sister Jackie and was written out fairly early on. I recall thinking he was yummy, but feeling bad about it as he was such a git. So imagine my feeling of joy when years later he reappeared as a doctor in ER and it was ok to fancy him again ! Of course the real appeal of George isn't his twinkly look, it is his complete refusal to settle down. Remember how Warren Beattie was the sexiest man alive and considered untameable, so when he finally did marry Annette Bening his sex appeal vanished. George is far too savvy to risk it, so it gives all of us hope that we might get a go. Well, if Mariella Frostrup and Lisa Snowdon can go out with him then I'm pretty sure we're all in with a chance.

In reality neither of them would be quite considerate enough for me which is why I'm with my hubbie. Ok, it's not the only reason, it's not like I weighed up the odds of ending up with either George or Brad and decided that hubbie was a better bet. He did the leg work and continues to put up with the insanity that is my approach to life. Whether it's the ever changing house rules, "I never use the stripey glass for water." "Can I have some water in the stripey glass please ? Of course it's ok, it's a glass isn't it ?" or my inability to read instructions that come with anything, he is the most patient of human beings.

At the time I met my hubbie I'd been online dating for a while and had met the usual array of weirdos, loonies and men who suddenly realise they are alone and all their friends are paired off so they had better meet someone pretty soon. (Don't worry they say equally lovely things about the women they met). My expectations were low and I was just grateful to meet an intelligent man who didn't mind being beaten by a woman in a debate. When we actually started to go out with each other (I can't say dating, it sounds too american and formal for the carnival of drinking and eating our way round London that was our early courtship) I realised that maybe I didn't have unattainable standards, I'd just been going out with completely the wrong people. We went to an italian restaurant one evening and I fancied gnocchi which I was told they didn't have, so I changed my order. A week later when we were having dinner at his place he cooked me gnocchi and I told him that it was my favourite pasta. Later he confessed that he made it because I'd been disappointed at the restaurant and he wanted to make me happy. Seriously, how often does someone tell you they want to make you happy ?

Now, having been married for five years he has gone from hanging on my every utterance to selective deafness (which happens in all marriages I'm told) and as we live together the element of surprise is pretty non-existent. So you can imagine my delight when I received an unexpected early Christmas present on Saturday. I'd just been on Radio London telling Robert Elms that my dream would be to learn to fly and hubbie and baby were in the other room cheering me along. When the item finished hubbie went upstairs to get something and came back and presented me with the gift of a flying lesson. Apparently when we were out exploring a few weeks back and managed to end up at Biggin Hill I mentioned that I'd love to have a go at flying and he had remembered.

So you see Brad and George, while you are wealthy and famous and good looking and have a special place in my heart, it will always be just below the place reserved for hubbie.