There are a few people who have shocked me with just how beautiful they are. Henry Cavill, the new Superman, is take-your-breath-away gorgeous. He runs in the same crowds as my friends in LA, and he is well-loved around the WeHo 'hood for his dashing looks and his delightful personality. Up close, he really...wow, his skin and his big nose and the perfect cheekbones and chin...I used to describe him as "super-human," so I like to think my words somehow made it out there into the universe and helped him finally land the Superman role (he was also a finalist in 2006, when Brandon Routh got the part.)
Jessica Biel, when I met her, actually caused my chest to ache. She was that beautiful in person. We were at a party, we didn't speak; I spent the rest of the evening watching her mill around the room and chat pleasantly in her white dress. Damn. It was effortless, the way she looked was stunning and effortless.
I remember the first evening I met my (then) boyfriend, J. There was just one light bulb glaring over his head, and it cast shadows over his shaved head and through his long eyelashes, as he blinked and breathed very rapidly looking at me. We weren't doing anything, we were just staring at each other and blushing, which was burning my face along with the light from that very bright lightbulb. Everything became comic-book Technicolor, each fleck of the brown in his eyes glowed orange and yellow and red...ah, the fiery passion of youth. I would be lying if I said I didn't still think about him. Him, the barbed-wire tattoo around his arm, and those eyelashes.