“‘Oh fuck off!’ The words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to think about the ramifications of saying them to a Hollywood actor, especially one whose star is about to turn supernova. As soon as I do, I think I might throw up. And then, after the briefest of pauses, Taylor Kitsch’s [Tim Riggins] perfect eyes wrinkle up and his perfect mouth emits a perfect laugh, all manly and throaty and sounding of a thousand cigarettes.
The incident occurs just after Kitsch has finished telling me about the house he’s building by a lake in Austin, Texas, and the boat, which he sails upon said lake. It comes after he’s said how much he loves England (“I love the dry, wry humour”), and doesn’t like LA (“It’s too one-sided”); all punctuated with swearing, jokes and the confidence of a man who can wear cowboy boots, bootcut jeans (well, he does live in Texas) and still look absurdly attractive.
I don’t mean to curse at him, but it is almost too much to take, all of this, and the vision of him building a house just doesn’t seem fair to the rest of the population, neither male nor female. If there was a real-life, modern-day Adam, or if Gosling in The Notebook really did exist, it would be in the form of the man sitting in front of me. Which is probably why he’s saving the planet in two films this spring.”