The Mirror prints rumours about a woman whose ambition is to shag the entire Real Madrid team, and Rebecca loved sleeping with sportsmen, as long as they were famous..
Despite the risk of a telling off from Gordon and Blue Witch, I'm really fascinated, and puzzled, by this.
It strikes me as terribly adolescent. I recall the schooldays when one of my classmates was seeing one of the Altrincham Aces ice-hockey stars; also a couple of people that people knew as friends of friends whatever were married to Manchester United players. Someone's Mum worked with the wife of one of Echo and The Bunnymen (I think) at Warrington DHSS.
Of course there is a fascination with celebrities, especially the glamorous/beautiful ones. I suspect that many of us have at least one celebrity that if - however unlikely - the opportunity arose, we would be sorely tempted, and, depending on our personal moral code, may even accept.
But there is, surely, a world of difference between having fantasies about one or two specific celebrities, whom we admire for what they do, (my fiance likes Paula Ratcliffe - but he'd never be able to catch her!), and relentlessly pursuing minor celebs just because they are footballers, or whatever.
I am fascinated by the motivation. Is sex with a celebrity better than with a mere mortal? I would hazard a guess that it depends. I find the incessant search for the next casual screw soul destroying. I'm not sure how their can be any respect when the terms of engagement are so cynical - both parties are using each other. I will admit to a few one-night stands and short flings in my long-lost youth. But what they all had in common was that I'd already had a laugh with the blokes involved, and had already judged them to be reasonably good company. I don't recall ever setting out to ensnare a particular type of man.
And even if I - by glorious luck - had the opportunity to end up in bed with one of my pin-up heroes, I think I would want more than sex anyway. I'd like the opportunity to find out a bit what they were like as people, what makes them tick, and, you know, enjoy their company.
I can't help thinking that the pursuit of celebrities because they are A Celebrity (not Joe-Blogg-specific-celebrity) is tantamount to prostitution, perhaps worse than prostitution because most prostitutes are motivated by the need to support a drug habit or clinch a book deal. Do these women suffer a pathological self-esteem deficit? Because, if they do, there a hundred better ways to learn to love oneself.
