The most embarrassing thing about my celebrity sex dreams is that I don’t have them. My sex dreams involve people I know personally—so if I’m dreaming about a celebrity, we’re certainly not having sex. We’re best friends. After seeing Easy A, Emma Stone was my dream best friend for a number of weeks. We’d see movies together. Get drinks and gossip. I remember one dream where we just texted. She resurfaced as my best friend last fall after I saw The Help. An actual friend of mine once told me a story about meeting Andrew Garfield’s best friend, which meant Andrew Garfield and I were dream best friends for the following few nights. Again, there was texting. I ate with him. I drank with him. I showed him off to my friends at a party that we were probably the life of. Recently I had a dream that Adele called me crying over something while I was out with my actual friends. I was like, “Sorry guys, Adele’s upset,” and left the table to console her, as if it were some normal thing. (Which it totally would be if I were best friends with Adele.)
This was my contribution and it’s only mildly embarrassing.