Over the years, I've had crushes on quite a few lead singers. I found people like Scott Weiland and Eddie Vedder to be raw, passionate, and dangerous. And when you're right in the middle of some teenage angst, especially girly teenage angst, the idea of someone who might toss you around a bit while he kisses you passionately and talks about starving children in Botswana is really quite divine.
One of the sadder things about growing up is that a lot of these guys have a lot of faults, many of which have been exposed over the years. We all have faults, but as a seventeen-year-old girl, I just didn't think, "Oh, I bet Kurt Cobain's heroin habit and incessant whining about how hard fame is would REALLY wear on my fucking nerves after a while." I held these people in such high regard, and it's hard to think of them as imperfect, or joyless, or boring, or irritating, or dangerous- not dangerous in that sexy way, but in that way that you might go to jail for several years for possession even though you didn't even know that he HAD the damn stuff in his pocket. (This doesn't really apply to Eddie Vedder; he is beautiful and perfect and I will never speak badly of him, even if he CAN manage to fall off of a stool midsong on camera.)
The funniest part about these thoughts that I was having on the way to work was realizing that, after all these years and all these crushes, I married a sexy lead singer.
But I got very lucky, because I have learned his faults over the years and they're beautiful, and warranted, and won't cause me to have to serve hard time. I'm also lucky because he's learned my faults, and he's still here, and he loves me FOR them, not in spite of them. Lastly, I'm lucky because he makes me better all the time.
Oh. And also because he is damn fine when he's makin' love to that microphone.