It was Autumn of 2010. We were all coasting along, minding our own business, not expecting any movie experience to top the hotness of a well-tailored Joseph Gordon-Levitt beating people up in zero gravity, when it happened: that Facebook movie that we’d all been making fun of was released—and it was actually good.
I mean, really good. David Fincher lent it that stylish flair, Aaron Sorkin wrote that amazing dialogue, Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross provided that moody score, and the actors gave some of the most impressive performances I’d seen in years.
But there was one actor in particular: one relatively unknown, positively beautiful man who captured our hearts and ruined us for all other men, forever.
That man was Andrew Garfield.
Yes, Andrew Garfield, the secretly-British heartthrob with the fabulous hair, who wore the hell out of those designer suits and could emote like nobody’s business. His smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds, and his massive doe-eyes could melt our hearts like an industrial blowtorch.
As if that wasn’t enough, Andrew decided to jump the adorableness shark by scoffing at American conventions of heterosexuality and treating his costar, the incomparable Jesse Eisenberg, like his prom date:
Never in my wildest dreams has a man ever looked at me like that, is all I’m saying. Even fellow Social Network star Justin Timberlake seemed jealous.
But Andrew didn’t stop there. Oh, no. Merciless in his lovability, he went on to prove himself a complete and utter nerd, therefore firmly establishing himself as one of the most inconceivably attractive men alive.
After he was cast in the leading role in the upcoming Spider-Man movie, longtime fanboy Andrew reacted with his usual unrestrained glee and total lack of cool. He showed up at the Comic-Con International panel in a cheap Spidey costume, pulled off the mask, and delivered a halting and heart-achingly earnest confessional to an audience of 6000 about how much the character meant to him as a kid.
“I needed Spidey in my life when I was a kid and he gave me hope,” he told us. “In every comic I read, he was living out mine and every skinny boy’s fantasy of being stronger, of being free of the body I was born into, and that swinging sensation of flight.” His voice was actually choked with emotion during this speech, and I was worried he might cry.
Because that is how Andy Garf rolls, damn it. He is so open and genuine about everything that it’s almost embarrassing; he thinks nothing of sharing his dreams, his joys, and his insecurities, and every bit I see of him just makes him more dazzling.
(Also, one assumes that Andrew is either extremely modest, or has shaped up a great deal since his youth. Because there is certainly nothing wrong with the body he was born into.)
So with all of that, I was already crying myself to sleep at night about how I will probably never get to marry this beautiful, British NJB. And then, I stumbled across this ridiculousness from Interview Magazine, in which Andrew and Terry Gilliam talk about girls:
GARFIELD: I ended up being pursued by this girl who was very cool, but she just wasn’t my type . . . It was a personality thing more than anything.
GILLIAM: Because she was unattractive. Let’s just be honest about it. [laughs]
GARFIELD: Well, no. She was very cool. She just wasn’t my type.
GILLIAM: There you go—she was ugly.
GARFIELD: [laughs] I will not say that because I don’t believe anyone is ugly. How’s that?
GILLIAM: Oh, god!
GARFIELD: [laughs] She really was the coolest girl.
STOP IT ANDREW GARFIELD. STOP IT WITH YOUR POLITENESS AND YOUR EARNESTNESS AND YOUR FUCKING CHIVALRY. IT IS NOT NORMAL. GO BACK TO THE MAGICAL ISLAND FROM WHENCE YOU CAME SO YOU CAN FROLIC WITH UNICORNS AND DANCE ON RAINBOWS. (Iloveyousomuch).
I mean really. EffThatGuy.