Bruno Mars

My first time electing a US president and I’m looking at Bruno Mars. Shows you how avid a political activist I am. Then again, if there was a nonprofit organization for attractive men, count me in. No, count me CEO.

…wait, head activist.

Head organizer?

Whatever, you get the point.

See, the first time I heard a song by old Brunie, the lower half of my body was set on fire and melted completely (I had to pull over, it was a mess). “God”, I thought to myself, feeling my body morph over “Just the Way You Are” and “Marry You, “This guy must be so fucking attractive.”

Then I saw what he looked like on TV. Suddenly the coke scandals became understandable.

Bruno Mars

Beautiful boys – oh.



And that’s how I started out every conversation concerning Bruno Mars, of which, I might add, weren’t many:

“You know how you hear certain songs and you think the person must be just so hot? That’s what I thought about Bruno Mars until I saw him in an interview. What a disappointment.”

Claudia Of Ignorance Past, eat your words.

It was all because of the damn radio, which isn’t even good anymore. I had heard the song “Locked Out Of Heaven” before, but it wasn’t until tonight, when I kept on frustratingly catching the end of the song on two different stations, that I decided to look it up on YouTube.

Now, usually, I only look up the lyrics– you know, how people just put up the words of the song in a video, sometimes with fancy graphics but mostly asking for people to subscribe to their channel? Well, for some reason (destiny, maybe?) I decided to actually watch the video.

I. Can’t. Stop.

Holy shit, he’s hot. Ignoring the kissing girls and slow-mo girls and hair-flipping girls and drugged-up-seventies-hair girls, Bruno is pretty much smoking. Forget the coke, the boy is doing something right. The way his muscles bulk up when he grips the microphone, how his chest says “yeah, I work out” even through that yellow shirt.

Plus his voice. Oh God, and those lyrics.

Your sex brings me to paradise.

Bruno Mars


Okay, all hormones aside, even when I wasn’t physically attracted to Bruno (can’t you hear Sacha Baron Cohen now? Brüüü-nooo), I was still attracted to him on the whole. It most definitely had to do with his lyrics, even more-so to do with his voice, and maybe had something to do with the fact that one of his albums was whimsically named Doo Wops and Hooligans.

There’s also that thing about Bruno Mars. You know what thing. That thing– it has to do with the Doo Wops and Hooligans thing. Both words have ties to the past when gangs were depicted in movies crouched over, snapping their fingers and shouting ”JETS”, It indicates that this boy is old-fashioned sexy, that he quaffs his hair like an Elvis-inspired greaser but knows how to show Mariaa good time while holding open doors and paying for milkshakes before spinning her in front of the jukebox.

That thing.

What he says in his songs does more to reinforce this. I mean, really, how many guys do you know in their twenties or under that talk about wanting to get settled and married? Not even Adam Levine, head of one of the most emotionally-forward male bands to walk the planet, has ever crooned about tying the knot with one of the women he has so caringly caressed with his vocals.

Bruno has no fear in this regard. Although I’m not presently mulling over ides of marriage myself at the ripe age of nineteen, the first time I heard “Marry You” on the radio, again I swooned. But this swoon wasn’t just the girded-loin “TAKE ME NOW” swoon– it was the “TAKE ME NOW AND TAKE CARE OF ME” swoon.

In other words, there’s an actual depth to the emotion that Bruno Mars incites within girls everywhere (and probably a couple of men too), a depth that lets you sink into the comfort of someone else’s arms and think, “wow, maybe this person isn’t just an attractive hunk of meat after all?” He’s the guy that would take a grenade for you, who thinks you’re beautiful just the way you are. He’s Bruno Mars, and I’m proud to deem him the lover I’ll never have.