I couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

My Unhealthy Obsession With Anderson Cooper

Oct. 20, 2011
By Chelsea Fagan
Chelsea is a student and writer living in Paris.


Anderson Cooper. The Silver Fox. Mr. Vanderbilt. Sex With A Side Part. However you refer to him — and all names are equally apt — there is no denying that Anderson Cooper’s appeal is one that transcends all age, gender, and reason. He, for me, goes beyond the upper echelons of Husband Material to the stratosphere of unattainable, nearly inhuman perfection. And to address the large, well-dressed elephant in the room — who cares? People can debate for hours, days, about whether he’d rather cuddle up with Sofia Vergara or Ryan Gosling. Everyone wants Anderson to be playing for their team, but the truth is, he is far too good for the sport itself. Anderson has a sexuality that can’t be registered on any normal, human scale. He only sleeps with demigods and wood nymphs.

Perhaps I am so obsessed because he has a serious appreciation for world events and a dedication to real journalism, but at night curls up to watch the Real Housewives claw each others’ eyes out as he giggles adorably. I imagine that we would put on our fuzziest pyjamas, finish matching pints of Ben and Jerry’s (Coop Coop would never judge you for finishing the whole pint — he knows you’ve had a hard week) and laugh at how much of a complete mess Courtney Stodden is. He just… gets it. In every way you can. And, though technically Nancy Grace is his network sister, he redeems his legitimacy with his engaging 60 Minutes pieces. He is the truest definition of a Renaissance Man.

And, though I could write an entire novel on this incident alone, no few moments of live television have warmed my steely little heart quite like his descent into giggling madness as he discussed Gerard Depardieu’s public urination. There is only one person in the world who could be rendered more sexy by the fact that he has the giggle of an 8-year-old girl, and that person is Anderson Cooper. The sound of his unbridled laughter at a number-two joke is like Christmas and Disneyworld wrapped together, sprinkled with hope for the future.

Perhaps it’s my affinity for a good side-part/ cardigan combination. Perhaps it’s my lingering love over his hilarious tearing-apart of Living Lohan on the Regis & Kelly show a while back. Perhaps it’s just because he genuinely seems to not take himself too seriously, and always manages to keep his private life private. Regardless of the reason, there is no denying that Anderson Cooper is the one person with whom I would simultaneously entrust the running of our country, have an all-day trashy reality TV marathon, and plan a fulfilling life in the Hamptons with our perfect, silvery children and rotating list of dinner guests that includes the Obamas and Countess LuAnn.

Anderson Cooper is a God among men, and I salute him.