Dear James Spader,
I believe our love affair began in 2002 when I watched White Palace for the first time. I have to admit, I had made some previous assumptions about you having only known you as the rich white boy asshole in Pretty in Pink and Less Than Zero.
Let's face it James Spader, White Palace was just a peek at what you had to offer. You were a widowed sad soul who found his libido screaming for a sexy older woman. Watching the love scenes steamed up the screen of my TV - they were so hot! You learned to love again. And boy did you take that ball and run with it!
Next was David Cronenbergs' Crash. It had been a terrible accident that left you scarred and created a desire for the exploration of car crashes and raw sexuality. You and your wife discover the joys of underground eroticism. Did it come from the impact, the victim's scars, or the smell of engine coolant? Glass and metal is breaking and dirty love is in the air. James Spader you are eerily sexy here. And we have peeled away another layer leading closer to your deep core.
The last piece of my heart went to you when I had an intimate encounter with our dear Mr.E. Edward Grey and Secretary. I bought several red pens Mr. Spader, sir. And I am sure I have made many, many typographical errors. From the love of orchids right down to the rigidity of your nerves, it was mutual dom / sub love. The fragility of both Lee Holloway and Mr. Grey finding odd strength in each other creates for a mind blowing love story with an interesting twist.
I know you are not without flaw James. I have seen Supernova. But I am willing to accept you bad sci-fi and all. Please, give me one scoop of creamed potatoes. A slice of butter. Four peas. And as much ice cream as I'd like to eat.
*** This was originally written for my former blog Come On Flick Me. I have re-editted it, added a few things and all new links!