If in my writer's fantasy world I had to pick a man (other than darling hubby of course) to cross a room and take my hand to dance...I know who it would be. Truly. It's firmly rooted in my childhood fantasies.
I've tinkered with Patrick Dempsey (not literally though I'm sure I'd like to).
I jiggle at the thought of Gerry Butler (who wouldn't?)
Then there's George (Clooney naturally), Richard Armitage (how could I not?), Hugh Jackman (well it would be just wrong not to)...but still the fantasy didn't quite fit the bill.
So I went further back in my child-of-the-70s brain and considered Steve Austin the Bionic Man. And even got as desperate as remember my burning longing for Donny Osmond. But no.
Personal Revelation Result:
There's only one man I whole-heartedly hanker to waltz with and have point his whistle at me.
Christopher Plummer. So shoot me. It's official.
It's the eyes. The voice. The sharp looks. The killer grin. Sigh. And there's also the way he strums his guitar to Edelweiss.