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Christine and the Queens: The Only Woman I Have A Sexual Attraction To

I think I have a sexual attraction to Christine and the Queens.

Who is that? She is a French pop export whose real name is Héloïse Letissier. She is already a bit of a star in her home country but, here, she’s yet to have that crossover success.

It all started with this photo. I always knew her music was made to make you move but I never realized the physical element to her performance until I saw that photo. It made things click that Christine is a butch queen in the sense that she is a loaded gun of a woman, a compact fit bomb to dance around you in her ball.

And that gayness is unmistakable. Her queens—her backing dance group of hyper-stylized queer men—evokes a sense of unity as everyone is in the same uniform and adorably breaks out into these dance jams with Christine at the helm. That power she has over a group of men along with her crushing sneer kills me. She’s like French female Elvis. She makes me sexually weak and hungry at the same time.

It’s probably her androgynous aesthetic, that she always appears like she’s wearing a shrunken version of her father’s business suit, which is basically a perfectly tailored suit for a gay boy like me. It’s her jawline. It’s that she looks like one of my best friends. It’s her Prince-like soulfulness of her voice. It’s the way she coos. It’s how she speaks in and out of French. It’s her constantly tangled sex hair. It’s the way she moves. It’s definitely the way she moves. Have you seen this?

That video makes me want to cream my pants after being overloaded by her extremely finessed aesthetic and physicality. I want to be her queen. She can be my pansexual king. I want to lick her and her lick me and we lick we. She is so fucking hot.

But, really, it’s her style. With her music, from the gender transgressing “iT” to the relational skewing “Tilted,” you can’t help but want to get up and do her little pops and locks. And that above take on “Pump Up The Jam”? Girl, tie my titties to the back of a truck and drive away, ripping them off for you to play with as dangly earrings: it’s just so good. It’s the correct form of nostalgic hat tipping and recreation. It is so good.

Then there’s the AMI connection. I love AMI. We know this. I want to be friends with Alexandre Mattiussi for some time. I want to pet his beard and he pat my head and tell me I’m a good boy, a potential Franco-American muse. I’ve been wanting to look like this AMI model for some time now, from that pout to that skinny tucked in shirt/waist combo, and Christine has done that.

And that’s it: she is what I want to be. Physically, mentally, stylistically, culturally: she embodies what I hope to embody. Perhaps I go a little too femme and perhaps my shorts love could never truly be andro but she makes me want to play with my representation and push my gender—or lack thereof—even further left, into comfortable oddity based in style. Also, she’s French and I want to be French. She has that on me and I lust after the cultural cache as much as I lust after her body.

I can confidently say that she is the only woman who I am legitimately sexually attracted to. She’s just so hot right now.

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