the inner pre-teen that never quite sleeps

Jeeze, Jo, get a grip

When I see David Boreanaz, something deep in me twangs.

When he offers emotionally in touch advice with a serious compassionate face on, my innards resonate suddenly with something close to pain. You know the hollow and ache.

When he leans in and twinkles into the camera, my tear ducts and sinuses mist up and burn. I really nearly cry, like a hysterical Beatles fan in 1965.

In another life time, on, eheh, a Buffy posting board, a woman said that she’d written him fan mail congratulating him when his name went into the permanent credits. And he RANG HER, to thank her. She answered the phone, and it was him. My heart leaps to my throat thinking about it.

In answer to your question, actually, there is something about him that reminds me if Axel, or maybe vice versa. Maybe not so much these days.
But god knows it’s been a long time since I had one of those golden dreams where I was Buffy…
I’m not kidding myself on that count.

And yet. Whenever I see the man on television it just breaks me open.