He leaned in to kiss me, and I didn’t know where to look. My eyes danced from his stubble-surrounded lips, to his heavily styled hair, to the tattooed biceps pressing in on me. His face was so close that I could feel his breath. I was about to kiss Louis from One Direction, and I felt a magnetic, undeniable sexual longing for him.
And then I woke up.
I was in my mid-30s, married with a toddler and a baby on the way, and I was having a sex dream about One Direction. What the hell was wrong with me?
So appalled and disturbed was I by this bizarre, teenybopper dream, that I had no choice but to investigate my attraction to Louis Tomlinson of the teen boy band, One Direction.
I scrutinized this dangerous crush with the unrelenting energy of a journalist (okay, blogger) who is totally freaked out that she is actually a gross pervert, rather than a mild-mannered mum from the suburbs.
The answer that I found was even more frightening than I could have imagined.
I had a crush on Louis because he is a dad.
That morning, I deliberately watched a One Direction music video, to see if it reignited any of those feelings within. Several minutes later, I was horrified to find that I’d done nothing but stare at Louis’ crotch. In my defence, he was the only one wearing maroon pants in that video. It wasn’t my fault! Or was it?
I looked up his age. He was 24. Only 10 years younger than me. I guess that’s…okay, and not entirely creep-worthy of me.
But still – why was I even considering a relationship with a pop star who was barely out of his teens, in the same fantastical, infatuated way that a schoolgirl would?
I sat back and pondered a crucial fact: I knew his name. How the hell had that happened? I listen to Bon Jovi in my spare time. I have the musical taste of an old fart, because I am an old fart. And yet, I had awoken that morning with this perfectly accurate sentence in my head; “I had a sex dream about Louis Tomlinson from One Direction”.
Then I remembered all of the news articles I’d seen online, of Louis fathering a child with former flame, Briana Jungworth. Their son, Freddie, was born earlier this year. After that news broke, Louis suddenly looked more like a man than any of the other One Direction boys, and I knew his name and clicked on all of the paparazzi photos of him pushing a pram. Even if his hair did look ridiculous.
This new attraction to celebrity dads has intrigued me. It didn’t just end with Louis, either. I recently rediscovered one of my favourite bands from my teen years – The Whitlams, who named themselves after the legendary former Australian Prime Minister, Gough Whitlam. My own schoolgirl crush was directed towards the lead singer of The Whitlams, Tim Freedman, and his romantic-yet-wry piano ditties.