Or as I, and many others like to call him, Bambi.
Because he totally is! He stumbles around on his shaky, stalk-like legs, with his big moon eyes just gazing and gazing at you until you fall helplessly in love. Or helplessly in something, at any rate. The need to feed him handfuls of raisins or nuts or whatever the fuck it is deers eat, while petting him.
I would totally pet him. I would pet his wild maze of insane hair, until I went down the wrong follicle avenue and wound up facing a minotaur with nothing but a flimsy nightie and my feverish love of Andrew Garfield to protect me.
Which it wouldn't, because Andrew Garfield couldn't protect anything or anyone. Look at him, he can barely walk. I'd have to throw him over my shoulder like a saddlebag, and run like the wind so that we don't get gored by the bull-man that mysteriously lives in his hair. Though how both of us came to be running away from something in his own hair I've no idea.
Where was I? Oh yeah. Things I like about Andrew Garfield:
1. He does a lot of awkward things with his hands. As though he's holding a lot of imaginary items in front of his face. Hopefully, they're items we can use to fend of the Minotaur in his hair maze, otherwise we're in trouble.
2. He makes the most excrutiatingly perfect Tommy from Never Let Me Go. Seriously, it's like they carbon copied him out of Kazuo Ishiguro's brain. Or failing that, like they carbon copied him out of the file in my brain labelled "socially stunted total weirdo that somehow you still want to fook".
3. He's going to be Spiderman! Only without the requisite "his webslingers as a metaphor for nocturnal emissions dirty boy filthy boy yum". Booooooooo, I say.
4. His face juts out, weirdly. He's like the opposite of Robert Pattinson. He got the bits of face that Robert Pattinson didn't. He reminds me of how Natalie Portman looks at the end of Goya's Ghost, cos her jaw's been all smashed up. Look, this is what I mean:
See? It's like something's happened to his lower jaw. And now for the life in me I can't say what it is I like about that. I'm definitely not winning anyone over to the "Andrew Garfield Is Sexy Ok?" club, I know that much. Maybe it's just all about that Bambi thing again only it's a Bambi where his Mum got shot and then the hunter kind of shot half his face off, too, and now I have to give him soothing linament rubs and pin his jaw back together.
Jesus Christ, what am I saying??
5. After this, I can definitely say that I've crossed over into cougar town. I mean, he's three years younger than me. That makes me a cougar, right? And sometimes he looks so young that it makes me feel kind of queasy and wrong inside, until I put on Red Riding and stare at his sideburns and remind myself that he's actually nearly thirty.
6. And finally, my most favourite of all my man-crush tropes: "secretly a goer". Yeah, that's right. He looks like Bambi, but he nails that girl at the start of Red Riding like sex is going to cease existing tomorrow. Like he needs to hammer sex home, in case people start forgetting what it is. The kid can barely walk upright and keep his hands by his sides for more than thirty seconds, but he rode that chick like a pony and that's what I like to see.
I don't care if you can't walk. I don't mind if you stare at me gormlessly from behind that TV screen, Andrew Garfield. Stare as gormlessly as you like. Staring don't mean anything. Horniness means everything. Wild, abandoned, secret horniness, and the ability to hammer away for Britain.
I was wrong, Andrew Garfield. You could save me from the minotaur who lives in the maze of your hair. You could save me with the almighty and secretive power of your total sex.