OK. This is a bit teenager-ish I admit, but I have this intermittent obsession with Oliver Reed. I haven’t even seen half the films he’s been in: only a handfull, actually. And he didn’t exactly age well. But man, was he ever hot in his 30s! Check out his version of Bill Sikes in Oliver! and you will know what I mean (provided, of course, you are into mean-looking bearded guys like I am . . .drool drool drool). He was also pretty hot in The Devils and in Hannibal Brooks. He was OK looking in parts of Tommy (one of my favourite movies EVER – I will probably blog about The Who’s Tommy at some point but I will have to have a free day to do that because it will be long). Most of you probably know him from Gladiator. He played the guy who trained the gladiators. He actually died during the production of the film *sniff*.
Anyway, back to my original point: I go through phases during which this man haunts my thoughts. This usually happens after I see one of his films and lasts for about a week or so. Interestingly, it happened shortly before the beginning of this semester. Once classes started, my thoughts drifted elsewhere. But last night, even though my most recent obsessive phase had been over for a few weeks already, I had the most charming erotic dream about Oliver Reed. I’ve had many erotic dreams about many different people but, for some reason, the ones about Ollie (well, this was my second one) seem to be more vivid. I don’t know if it’s because he’s dead and therefore my dreams bekon his spirit to me (oooh, fucking with a ghost!!) but I know that I woke up still feeling his hair in my hands and his beard tickling my neck. *sigh* *double sigh* *total body spasm*
Now, according to interviews I’ve read, he was a sexist pig and a drunk but, hey, nobody’s perfect. And I’m allowed to fantasise about an Ollie Reed lookalike who is not a sexist pig, but who is intelligent, unarrogant, fun, good with his hands, polyamourous and bisexual . . . *sigh*
And this, folks, is how I can tell that spring is in the air: it’s the time of the year when my loins (errrr . . . I mean . . . .thoughts) turn to men and I worry that I have become heterosexual. Not that I stop being attracted to women – that never goes away. But through the spring and summer, my drive toward males is irressistable. Think Carla Tortelli in heat. *shudder*