When I got home from New York, I had to find out all I could about this red-haired vixen. As I researched on the internet, I played Jackson Brown's 'Somebody's Baby' on repeat. Because surely this Clay Aiken had to be somebody's baby. But he was not. Nor had he ever been. He was clean and untouched, his man-cherry still intact.
Last year, he was an unknown bespectacled special Ed teacher, born and bred in Raleigh, North Carolina. Then he auditioned for American Idol and on season 2, he shot to second place. I downloaded videos clips of him talking. His voice was succulent, a southern twist to a tone that was soft as silk and pure as honey.
He loves Jesus, his mamma, and donuts. He can't throw a ball to save his life and he's afraid of water. Any hot tub fantasies I might conjure up will have to be altered to suit him. Maybe it'll be a hot tub filled with cotton balls. Or red Jell-O. No one has ever drowned in red Jell-O.
He was born Clayton Holmes Grissom on November 30, 1978. 1 year and 3 days before me. The icing to top that cake is the size of his shoe, a seductive 13 and a half.
Since the end of American Idol, Clay has been living in LA with fellow contestant Kimberley Locke, who came in third place. They claim to be just friends, living together merely to lean on each other because they're both southerner's new to LA and new to the frenzy that is show business.
As platonic as their relationship may be, I still don't approve of the shacking up. I vow, from this moment on, my mission in life is to rid him of her to make room for me. No living, breathing female can resist the temptations of The Aiken forever. She must be destroyed… or convinced to move out, before she falls prey to his beauty.
In the midst of frantically saving hundreds and hundreds of pictures, my boyfriend Pat came into the room.
"Who's that?" He asked.
"That," I pointed to the screen. "is the most beautiful thing anybody has ever seen. And I shall marry him."
"What about me?"
"Well, I don't really think he's into men."
"No, I meant - "
I put my hand over his mouth. "I am in a state of euphoria and bliss. Please don't bring me down."
"But-"
"But nothing. Now leave me be."
He didn't budge.
"Leave!"
"I live here!"
"Leave!!" I roared.
"I live here!" He kept shouting as I pushed him out of the house and into his car.
"I pay half the rent!" He yelled as I buckled him in and started the car. I put it in neutral and pushed it back into the street. Then I ran back inside. The whole time I heard him yelling, "I pay half the rent!!"
I spent the rest of the night and early morning hours downloading every performance he ever had on American Idol.