In yesterday's post, I asked the question, Who will be my Secret Boyfriend? I wasn't really being serious, you know, I just wanted to use the term, 'secret boyfriend'. I stole it from Mrs G at Derfwad Manor. She & her guest bloggers like making lists of their 'secret boyfriends' which I think roughly translates to Ideal Men or Thinking Women's Crumpets. Oh my, where did that expression come from? I haven't heard the term 'crumpet' for decades & I don't remember ever using it before now, although I did used to enjoy eating them.
Mrs. G & her friends constantly come up with fabulously good-looking, interesting & intelligent men like Johnny Depp & gorgeous Celebrity Chef types to add to their ever-expanding lists of SBs. I imagine that they while away the hours fantasising about what it would be like to have their toes sucked by one of them or maybe all of them at once.
I envy those women. They have their Fantasy Lives All Sorted. They admire quality & have no difficulty claiming Johnny, or Antony or Viggo as their own.
But I'm not like them. Every time I try & think of My Secret Beau, an image similar to the one at the top of the post springs to mind. By the way, it's an illustration by the famous early twentieth century illustrator Heath Robinson for 'The Emperor's New Clothes'.
Maybe I can change. I've posted a picture of Atticus Finch just to get me started. He was pretty wonderful & I seem to remember that a few years ago he topped the list of the Person who Most Americans Admired.
Who cares if he's fictional?
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