George Clooney is on the cover of this month’s W magazine livin’ large in a polka-dotted world, and yes, the photos are amazing, and yes, he pulls off the mod-Dalmatian look better than probably anyone has ever pulled off the mod-Dalmatian look before, but don’t go creaming your (polka-dotted) jeans. George Clooney, despite his soulful, soulful eyes and his sexy, sexy stubble isn’t the great celebrity crush everyone makes him out to be. Which is good, because he’d break up with you in two years anyway, since no man, woman, or child will ever understand his sensitive, sensitive heart anyway.
Which is what makes him terrible. One of the things that makes him terrible. His profoundly overrated and clownish performance in The Descendants is the other thing that makes him terrible. Also, Gravity. Jesus Christ.
How many times can we hear that he just knows the love of his life is out there, but he hasn’t found her yet? He is masculine, but he is soft. He is wistful. He is melancholy. He has so many feelings. He is too deep and too handsome to be understood by human women, that’s the problem. They’re all great, you see – he loves women! – it’s just that he’s searching for something, something he can apparently not find among the living. Where have all the Audrey Hepburns gone? And we, in our living rooms, sobbing over Netflixed episodes of ER, are supposed to think that we might just be that woman, if only he could just meet us! No no no. George Clooney’s apparent lack of options is not the problem. George Clooney is the problem.
George Clooney is a type, the type who is so sensitive and virtuous (he is against genocide, you guys!) that he can’t, you know, maintain actual relationships. We know this guy. We dated this guy in college. He was cruel, in the end, but we could not be mad because his artfully restrained feelings were just too deep for our delicate feminine hearts.
It’s not that his singlehood is inherently a problem — all the 1997/2006 Sexiest Man Alive really needs is his pig anyway, which, respect — it’s that we’re all still obsessing about it. We’ve seen him floating smugly through space and we’re still willing to obsess about it. It is time, ladies (or gentleman), to join Talia Balsam, Lisa Snowdon, Sarah Larson, Elisabetta Canalis, Kelly Preston, Renée Zellweger, Krista Allen, Céline Balitran, and Stacy Keibler and collectively move on. I mean, it’s not like he’s Jon Hamm or anything.
(Image via etoday)