Do you know what day it is, WordPress? It’s my 22nd birthday. And do you know what I want for my birthday? I want to grow myself a penis and go back in time to visit this individual:
We would draw the curtains tight and put the crackly records of his time on low so that we might dance together, cheek to cheek. It’s worth noting that in a quantum multiverse, my actions would not upset our timeline…not that this is going to happen or anything.
I have been nursing a history crush on Mr. Alan Turing for a long time now. A handsome man is born every minute, but it was Turing’s brilliance and stunning accomplishments as a codebreaker, mathematical theorist, and computer scientist that inspired my temporally-dissonant attraction. I’d love to be able to listen to him for just an hour, to ask him questions. I may also long to keep him from that disastrous liaison that would lead to his prosecution under British sodomy laws and subsequent chemical castration and suicide. This is what it’s like to be a woman: you have the internal power to blend admiration, sadness, and infatuation into one great swoony plasma of emotion.
This has nothing to do with one Benedict Cumberbatch and the Alan Turing movie he is working on. With all respect to Mr. Cumberbatch’s ravenous fanbase of “Cumberbitches,” he is only an actor who happens to look nothing like Turing, while the man himself was a genius of untold influence, a war hero, and martyr to an unjust law. I know whom I would bang.