Paranoid Thought Number 2: Does fancying the Jonas Brothers make me a Paedophile?

ThinkingGal has a lovely boyfriend. He makes my breakfast every morning, he listens to me witter on endlessly about my dull, boring life (past, present and future) and he is, at present, the sole audience of this blog. God help him.

So when my boyfriend and I decided to pick our top 3 celebrity crushes a while ago, I was delighted to discover his picks were Tina Fey, Nigella Lawson and Beyonce. You see, in addition to being paranoid, I am also somewhat of a narcissist and can see aspects of myself in each of these women (well, I think I can- I was sort of focused on my own reflection). Tina Fey’s humour, Nigella’s cooking and Beyonce’s, well…. I’m not that much of an arrogant arse that I’m going to say that Beyonce’s looks, so I’ll settle for amazing vocal range, dancing ability and, what the hell, throw looks in there too.

However, my own response was less than savoury. Turns out I fancy the Jonas Brothers. Every last one of them.

Now, I don’t know if everyone else does this but I always think I’m the same age as TV’s youngsters today. I think this dates back to the start of Laguna Beach, where I actually was the same age as the cast. Unfortunately, time has moved on but the ages of the people I watch on TV do not, for example, I am currently watching Pretty Little Liars when I’m fairly certain I am older than all of the other viewers combined. And I recently purchased a book from the ‘Teen’ Section in an airport bookshop, which, as it turns out, was too smart for me.

So now I’m worried. How could I have let my guard down and ‘forget’ that I have to be at least 10 years older than the Jonaseseses? This must have happened over time too. Thank christ I only watched them on TV, I dread to think what would happen if I actually knew them in person. But it would have been likely to be something that ended with my arrest and subsequent selling of story to Take A Break magazine- complete with me lying on a Jonas Brothers bedspread and excerpts of my story enblazoned in bold like ‘It was the villan in my own Disney fantasy’, that actively encourage members of the public to hunt me down and beat me to death with umbrellas.

God help me, I’m going to buy a trenchcoat.

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