Somewhere in the 90’s there was a not-so-little girl, that would gosh over Brad Pitt.
Watch his videos, to admire his looks. Buy expensive magazines, to read his words. Cherish a Brad Pitt photo book, acquired on a trip to London. He was a star and she idolized him. Things were exactly as they should be.
Except for one thing: the not-so-little girl was a little too old to be worshipping Brad Pitt. Halfway in her twenties, and adult life required adult passions. Career. Children. Real life men.
The child wish, she knew that one. When she had met her boyfriend J., everything in her body had been begging for it. Love child from J. Pronto. Two, maybe twins. And although he was game, the girl made a judgement call. College life was no place for babies. The off-spring were postponed to sometime in the future, and she became a fan of Brad Pitt.
Career. She was studying to become an engineer, just like her father. She tomb boyed her way through tech-classes and confidently handed in her assignments. The numbers and formulas she used were the same as those from her male peers. As were her sturdy clothes and sarcastic jokes. The high-heeled teenager with her inseparable red lipstick, had vanished after high school graduation day, where she had made one final appearance. Wearing a sassy black cocktail dress that ended half way her thighs. And only when she was standing.
And with all femininity out the window, her creative side too, had disappeared. She had graduated in art, but now her photo camera was dusting away under her bed. And she touched neither brush nor pen. Sometimes her fingers would trace the lines on photos from Mario Testino or Herb Ritz. But it was only to touch Brad Pitt’s physique. She did not remember she once wanted to be a photographer herself.
And real men? There had been those. But she was with J. and wanted to be faithful. Who needs live men, messing with your head, when you have a partner already? She bought some more Pitt video’s, and Brad worked liked a charm. For over ten years he guarded the gate, her heart and her mind. He kept her faithful, dutiful, and there was no man nor passion that could get through.
Like a true engineer, she had successfully reprogrammed herself until all the temptations of the world, came together in one man: unreachable, unavailable, Brad Pitt.
In 2004 the girl had become a woman, and Brad Pitt was Mr. Aniston. He visited the Netherlands and she went to meet her idol. He reached out and touched her hand, and it was there that the spell was broken.
Like Cinderella, the girl woke up from her decade long dream with a job, a house, and with a boyfriend who was turning gray near his temples. Her body was 10 kilo’s heavier than she remembered, but underneath her curves she felt something. A desire for lipstick. A need for heels. For new men. For writing. For change.
A decade of bottled up passion and creativity finally erupted.
And Brad Pitt? We all know what happened to him.
Maybe one day a princess will touch him and lift the spell that has been with him since May 18th, 2004, in the Handboogstraat in Amsterdam.