my husband and I have one particular trait in common -- obsessiveness. i'm not talking single-white-female obsessiveness (ok, i admit that depends on your vantage point), but more like when we find something we like and are interested in, we cannot. let. it. go. for like weeks and weeks and weeks on end.
that's where the similarities end, though. my husband gets obsessed with stuff like civil war history books, athlete biographies and boardwalk empire. me? lady gaga. real housewives of new jersey, and apple cheesecake bars the bakery down the street makes. oh...it hurts so good.
my current obsession, which has been steadily growing to near-frantic proportions for close to three weeks now is...ryan gosling. i know, i know. join the rest of the female population over the age of 16.
i've always liked ryan gosling. respected him as an actor. loved his weirdness in lars and the real girl and his vulnerability in half-nelson. good actor. pretty cute.
but, things got, as my husband likes to put it, a "wee bit creepy" when i decided to on-demand crazy, stupid love. then netflixed drive. then ordered ides of march. and then took it old-school and rented the notebook.
full-on ryan gosling tear. and i simply can't, will never understand why-oh-why he couldn't make it work with rachel mcadams (remember this?).
so, last week i met my husband for lunch. as i walked up to the chinese restaurant, i quickly realized how i am different from those other gos-obsessed women:
t with his new ryan gosling haircut.
i'm now officially crushing on my husband, which pays better dividends than the ryan gosling thing.