Oh Colin. I can see you're feeling anxious. Let me stroke that pensive expression off your face. While we're at it, let me stroke your shoulders beneath that butter yellow vee neck sweater, your biceps and forearms too. That would probably help us both relieve some tension. A cuppa tea will do us good, come to think of it. I'll put the kettle on while you lie down, won't you…?
Musical prodigy Glenn Gould, is that you? I didn't expect you to turn up here on my list of fantasy gents, but hey–your outfit is cute and your nonchalant lean is so devil-may-care! And there's something about you distant creative types that attracts us ladies. We want to break down your walls, discover what makes you tick. So Glenn, won't you let me lead you up those stairs and into the abyss?
Steve! My original funnyman crush! From the old Saturday Night Live sketches (King Tut!) to your tortured portrayal of a modern Cyrano de Bergerac in 'Roxanne', I've wanted to snuggle you since I was approximately eight years old. So lemme do exactly that, and bring your banjo while you're at it. We'll head to a cabin in the woods and have a running joke about the Smeg fridge in the kitchen. (Smeg!)
Charles Eames, don't look at me that way! I'm not sure I can handle the intensity of your stare! Phew, gettin' all hot and bothered up in here. Maybe it's the curve of that chair you're resting on, or maybe it's knowing how good you are with your mind and with your hands–I just can't help thinking you understand how to treat a lady right! Maybe we should move to that couch on the and find out, get my drift?