I'd Hook Up With// Sean Biggerstaff

I'm fairly certain that seventh grade will never cease to haunt me. The spindly girl wearing ballet skirts tied over ill-fitting jeans and crushing on every boy in her Spanish class will always be there, stewing in her awkwardness, deep down inside me. Perhaps not so deep. And yeah, seventh grade was the year that I became fully aware of the fact that girls are fucking bitches, and sometimes there's nothing better to do than homework. But, seventh grade was also the year of Sean Biggerstaff. Oliver Wood. Master of Sex. A hunk by any other name will still look as bangin'.

Harry Potter Mania may have been a little out of control. Maybe it still is, although I'm a tad bit more removed from it now, seeing as I only read the seventh book once and can't remember enough from the final two tomes to engage in any sort of obsessive book club-style conversation about them. But in 2002, the year that Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets brought lines around the blocks from movie theaters, I was best friends with a certified Potter-freak. She and I must have gone to see that shit four times. It sickens me how much of my money wound up in the hands of Warner Brothers, but what else does a seventh grader spend money on? Lip gloss? Yeah, that's about it. In any case, Sean Biggerstaff = Gryffindor Quidditch captain = hot. His sexiness was underrepresented in the film, so I had to turn to other avenues to get my fix. The now-defunct totallyseanbiggerstaff.com (no joke) was where I'd spend my valuable computer time, flicking through an extensive gallery of movie stills and promoshoot pics and listening to hilarious scenes from some other movie he was in in which he shouted, "It's burnin' it's burnin'! Mah penis is on fi-ah!" Mmmmm, puppy love. What delicious innocence.

Time passed. I forgot about Sean. How could I have forgotten?

My last relationship consisted almost entirely of buying burritos and renting movies. Sounds boring? Not when we stumbled upon the jewel of an indie film "Cashback." HI SEAN, YOU ARE BACK IN MY LIFE! This time, not as a magical quaffle-slinging hunk, but as a melancholy British art school student whose insomnia leads him to take on a job at the 24-hour supermarket. There's a love interest, there's a dickwad manager, and there are plenty of odd scenes in which the women in the supermarket are frozen in various states of undress. What does Sean do? He draws them. Fuck. That's sexy.

There is no conclusion to this post. Basically, I am still in seventh grade, except this time around my crush is twelve times as lusty. And I may have to start hanging around supermarkets.