Until a pattern emerged- one that would continue with me for the rest of my life. I call it: "starting to fancy the non-obvious guy". Suddenly, v. handsome guy starts not being enough for me. Isn't he just a little bit too handsome? A bit too smug, a bit too smooth around the edges. He's practically an apple.
Where as I always want lychees: the scariest, weirdest, most eyeball-like of all fruits. The fruit you've never heard of and which terrifies you.
So I started fancying Murdock.
Mad, big tiger jacket wearing, sock puppet loving, practically bald Murdock. Murdock, who spent his time trying to enrage a gigantic mohawked man. Murdock, who would never be as handsome as Face, but who I loved, regardless.
I wanted to escape a mental ward with him in a helicopter. And then snog, naturally.
Of course now, I want to do many, many other things to him. And especially as he's soon to look a lot like Sharlto Copley, who has a spectacular head of hair but makes me think he's still somehow bald underneath that baseball cap.
I don't care how bald you are, Murdock. How weird and non-obvious. I love you anyway.