Cumberbatched

Good God.

I can't believe I am writing about this....

I have been Cumberbatched.

As in, I have suddenly become obsessed with Benedict Cumberbatch. Apparently, after finishing the second series of BBC's 'Sherlock', I have transformed back into my fifteen-year-old self. Last time it was David Bowie. I have a thing for Brits.

So, here I am - and I can't stop thinking about a fucking television character. The bile is rising in my throat. Eck. Blah! Make it stop!

I am utterly mortified.

'Sherlock' is undoubtedly one of the best things I have ever seen (and not just because of you know who). The writing is superb. I would sleep with Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat in a heartbeat for the work they have done. But I would rather sleep with Benedict Cumberbatch...wait, no - I would rather sleep with Sherlock Holmes.

And now the intriguing Mr. Cumberbatch has been launched into super stardom. Maybe that's the fascination...it's a rare opportunity to watch the rise of an icon.

I won't go into why I love 'Sherlock'. I would just be babbling like a giddy little girl with pigtails who just stepped off her first roller coaster ride - lots of jumping up and down accompanied by endless exclamations -  an image of me tugging on my mom's sleeve with a lot of "and then's".... My pride also stops me from going any farther. Although, I have no doubt my brother would find it worthy of a youtube reenactment.

But I digress.

It's like I have some kind of fever.

Why can't I stop thinking about how fucking cool Benedict Cumberbatch looks in his coat?

Who cares?

I do.

Clearly.

Uh.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

I have been obsessing for days. I was exhausted last night, but my mind would not stop. So, I just went with it. Letting the torrid and never-ending display of images and thoughts run wild - which then led me to a question. Why do I obsess? How do I get stuck in this obsessive place? And why in God's name am I thinking so much about Benedict Cumberbatch? Or more specifically, his lips?

For the love of God.

Why do I want Sherlock to insult and dismiss me?

Just tell me off like you did to Kitty Riley. "You repel me".

I repel me.
What. Is. My. Damage?

I can't stop my mind from drifting.

He advances on me, trapping me. Here I am between him, and the brick wall at my back, where am I? Covent Garden? He reaches for me, his gloves brushing my chin. His eyes. I can't breath...

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE! Stop. Stop it.

Stop.

I am a grown women who cannot form an attachment to a man who doesn't exist.

Besides, I wouldn't consider Sherlock to be particularly friendly or even nice. Granted he is 'on the side of angels' but he isn't one himself. He is self-centered, doesn't care for others' feelings, shows off at every moment, and he has a serious problem with 'sentiment'. Women and sex have no part in his life.

Light bulb.
Bing!
It all clicks.
It's gone off before, but here it is again.
Oh jeez.

I am attracted to shitty men.

I am highly attracted to men who are selfish, powerful, proud, and among many other things....kinda mean. Men who clearly don't want me. Men who don't seem that interested in women at all.

Now, for those of you who have seen the second series of 'Sherlock' - yes, we all know that this season was about Sherlock finding his humanity. He does have feelings, even though he doesn't like to admit it. But that isn't the point....he is still unavailable to most people. Especially women.

Oh God.
I am seriously hot for meany-pants men.
What is that about?

I find myself pining for men who are what any therapist likes to call 'emotionally unavailable'. And for the most part, the men I have been involved with have all told me this in one way or another. Several of them told me very directly what they wanted, which was not to be in a relationship. And I didn't listen. I still thought they would change. If I am beautiful enough, smart enough, talented enough...they will change their mind. They will realize that I am something they want to keep. 

We all know you can't change anyone - we shouldn't try. That isn't love at all. Very far from it. Maybe the opposite of love. But here I am, still trying to change men, and most of the time, I don't know I am doing it until it's too late.

Why do I pick people who aren't good for me and/or can't give me what I want? Why am I hopelessly turned on by these kind of men? I hate my lady parts sometimes...it's like they have a mind of their own.

I have this ongoing joke with my mom where I whine and moan while lying on her kitchen floor (so dramatic) about how I will most likely have to settle for a boring man who I am not attracted to - but who is "really nice". Ha.

I've been in mean relationships. It wasn't fun. But I still go back to them. And then I wonder why I am with people who aren't that into me. How is it that we can see the potential train wrecks when we look at other people's relationships, but not when we look at our own?

How do I change this? How can I become more attracted to nicer men?

I suppose just be as self aware as possible. Don't get sucked into the excitement of a mysterious man with a delicious collar bone who says he wants me only every now and then. And how is it that I feel privileged that this man wants me at all?

I need to make an effort and try not to think so much about Benedict Cumberbatch's hypnotic eyes...God! He isn't even traditionally beautiful. I read in an article that he considers himself to have a 'horse face'. Yup. I can see that. Still doesn't stop me though...

I have also become aware of another important fact about the men that I obsess and fantasize over, whether they are real or not - 

I envy them.

And my envy is very, very potent.

I have envied every man I have been with.

I envy Mr. Cumberbatch because he is a truly good actor. Great even. I envy his career. I envy that he is English and that he resides in the one city that is closest to my heart - Dear olde London town. 

I only envy women's beauty, wishing I had their thighs or flat belly. But I envy men for their talent and ambitions. I don't think there is one actress that I really look up to, and think, "What I wouldn't give to be you." There are so many incredible men who get to play these incredible roles - ones I would love to play, but never will.

I think I want to be Benedict Cumberbatch.

Maybe I want to be a man. Maybe that's it.

Sometimes I look at men and think how uncomplicated it must be inside there heads.

Who knows if that's true.

I'm still on a long journey to loving myself. And even though they are inevitable, I hate bumps in the road. Especially this bump. Fucking annoying as all hell.

The worst part about obsessing about something that isn't real is that.....it isn't real. I want to prefer reality. But it's hard. Sometimes, I would just rather stay asleep...

with Benedict Cumberbatch.