Hulloo! This is the very first entry into what I hope will evolve into an amazing column. I hope that it will define the best parts of modern culture and serve as a beacon of light for contemporary intellectuals and future philosophers.
It’s called “Crush of the Week”.
I had to think very carefully about who would receive the honor of being the very first “Crush of the Week”. I’ve already penned a very open, and very embarrassing, letter to Ryan Gosling. I’ve listed various British actors (and Irish actors I hastily mistook as British) whom I love to bits. I’ve even made a case for Tom Hiddleston. Who besides these aforementioned men could be worthy of such an honor as being the very first Hello Giggles “Crush of the Week”?
Then, Channing Tatum’s Abdominal Muscles came into my life.
When I say they came into my life, what I mean is that Channing Tatum’s Abdominal Muscles have been in my life for a long time, but I haven’t fully emotionally appreciated them until now. I first saw them in Step Up, but I was naive to recognize the power of Channing Tatum’s Abdominal Muscles. I thought of them only as a friend who existed to charm me and make me smile. It was not until I was inundated with Magic Mike promotions that I realized that perhaps–despite nature and despite myself–I loved Channing Tatum’s Abdominal Muscles.
Even though you may be surprised that it took me so long to realize my adoration for Channing Tatum’s Abdominal Muscles, there is literary precedent. Consider Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy. I was watching the 1995 BBC version of Pride and Prejudice this week on Ovation, I was struck by how much I related to Elizabeth. When Jane asks her when did she first start to fall in love with Mr. Darcy, and Elizabeth replies “something…something…his beautiful house at Pemberley”, I saw myself! I didn’t truly love Channing Tatum’s Abdominal Muscles until I saw them in their natural habitat: a male strip club setting.
I was surprised by my own emotions, but then I remembered that love sometimes needs time to grow. Just as Lucy Maud Montgomery penned in Anne of Avonlea:
“Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into one’s life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to one’s side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music; perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath.”
I know Montgomery was talking about Anne and Gilbert here, but she could also be talking about me and Channing Tatum’s Abdominal Muscles.
Why do I love Channing Tatum’s Abdominal Muscles? Well, it’s difficult to explain true love. Perhaps it’s because they seemed chiseled by Michelangelo. Perhaps it’s because they move so well with the rhythm of music and the beat of my heart. Perhaps it’s because Channing Tatum’s Abdominal Muscles support Channing Tatum’s core, and at the core of Channing Tatum is love.
Okay, at the core of Channing Tatum is lust. Just lust.
I realize that in real life Channing Tatum is married to the beautiful Jenna Dewan and in real life, he probably wouldn’t be able to carry a conversation with me on the topic of Shakespearean authorship (which as a Stratfordian, I feel very passionate about and passion is the only food of lust).
So, I’m not asking for much. I’m just asking to spend the night with just one of Channing Tatum’s isolated abdominal muscles. Yes, I’d be willing to spend the night with just one. A single, solitary muscle.
And if that is to much to ask, could I perhaps trouble the universe for one night with his neck? That is a solid, muscular neck.
No? Okay, fine. I’ll go see Magic Mike.