Here’s the thing, people. As cute and sweet as David Archuleta is, that doesn’t fly with us girls anymore (ahem… when I say us, I mean, um, me). I like a man who’s a little rough and ragged with the potential to, like, freak the hell out. One who’s hiding a lot of pain and has like this whole secret brooding-prince-of-darkness thing that could just blow up outta nowhere.
I think about that when I watch David Cook sing. Sure, he looks kind of like a nice guy, and he probably is, but on the inside, he’s definitely pissed off about something. Remember when Ryan went all smarmy when he brought up the bartender thing? I could swear David pulled him aside right before the cut and said, “You pull that shit again, Seacrest, and I’m gonna lay your spray-tan-wearin’ ass out.”
Archuleta is talented and true and has a whole career ahead of him, I’m sure. But for my money? Cook takes the cake. And eats it, too.
I have no idea what that means, but whatever.
Let’s look at an example from another recent cultural phenomenon: Stephenie Meyer’s TWILIGHT. Edward Cullen vs. Jacob Black. Jacob is sweet and endearing and loyal and all that, like a best buddy. Or a dog. Or a werewolf, more accurately. But Edward? Anger management issues. Protective. Borderline possessive. Hella-intense. And he has that whole pissed off, misunderstood vampire thing going for him. See? Brooding. Prince. Of darkness.
That’s not all, people. Let’s dig deep into the archives. For those of us who grew up in the 80s, there was Michael Carrington of Grease II fame. Did super-hottie Stephanie Zinone want the sweet, shy type? No. In her own words, set to music, and tight leather pants, she wanted a “C-O-O-L *pause* R-I-D-E-R.” Ya, I learned that song before I learned my ABCs.
“Stephanie, have you ever… read… the Superman comic?”
“Not in the last few hours.”
See? And certainly none of us over the age of 25 (okay 30. Ish.) can forget this:
“Remember how you said your parents use you to get back at each other? Wouldn’t I be outstanding in that capacity?”
Anyway, congrats to both Davids. And for the record, I’m not sure I could sit through a performance of someone singing the phone book, but, like Paula, I do get a little choked up when they cry. Dreams coming true and all that.