Meet my husband, David Tennant.

"Have you met my husband? Yes, that's him. The tall, gangly fellow over by the punchbowl. Yes, he's wearing Converse with his suit. And yes...that's a trenchcoat. What does he do? Well...he's The Doctor. That's right. The Doctor. Of Fucking Gallifrey. And you know what? His TARDIS is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside."

That's how it would have gone, if I brought my husband to my high school reunion. Or if I had a husband. Or if my husband was The Doctor, which David Tennant is not. Nor is David Tennant my husband.

Celebrity crushes. We all have them, and lets not insult each other by pretending that we don't. You might be a realistic person, but so help me, if you ever deny that you may have dreamt of walking down the beach hand in hand with Tom Cruise (or Danny DeVito or whatever type floats your boat), well...you're a liar. Shut up and go away. Mine, for a while, was David Duchovny. And even now, if I were to meet him on the street and he were to ask for my phone number...I'd give it to him. Although my husband David Tennant might object- that's okay. Because neither possibility exists, and that's okay.

Patrick Stewart is going to get married to his longtime girlfriend, Wendy Something-Or-Other-Doesn't-Matter-Because-She-Isn't-Me. Ian McKellan is marrying them, which is sweet, and hopefully he'll turn out to not have the proper credentials so that Patrick Stewart is free to marry...ok. Fine. Yes, I know he's old enough to be my grandfather, but he's Captain Picard, and that is the only thing that matters ever at all. Period. When I read this, I admit that I silently mourned for a second, because yet another of the celebrity crushes is off the market. Bummer.

Hm. Who else? Gwyneth Paltrow is on the list, because she's beautiful, and hey- Pepper Potts. Red hair. Come on. I happen to think she's a lovely person. Even if her website suggests a lot of things normal people like myself can't afford...well, that's okay. Her heart is in the right place to even suggest it and share with the world, and that's the point. In the light of recent celeb babies I can't even say I object to the names of her kids anymore, because...come on. Blue Ivy. Enough said.

And then there's Dean Cain. I remember when Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman was on, and Dean Cain and his everything was there...and...yeah. I was a young girl, and suddenly I could be Lois Lane to his Clark Kent in my vivid imagination. I'd have been more than happy to Daily his Planet or whatever any day at all, because he had a look that just made you want to leap over tall buildings in a single bound. And even still...well, he's pretty darned handsome even now.

This could go on for a while, so I'm going to just close up by saying that if you have a celebrity crush you probably possess a decent collection of their movies or CD's, and a stack of magazines featuring this person. You probably wish you could plaster your bedroom walls with their pictures but don't, fearing someone may mistake you for a stalker. But loving them from afar is all in good fun, and as long as you're not sending them fingernail clippings or cuttings of your hair...well, I'd say you're all right. Go watch Law and Order: Special Victims Unit and swoon over Mariska Hargitay like I do...and don't feel any shame in doing so (I mean, who would? She's amazing, that woman.).