Tony's Diary Package — page 99

The trio had been talking about their thirst for Fauci over text, and decided to take it public in hopes that it would be entertaining to other bored and freaked-out people. Zhou, 22, told me that she thinks people are drawn to Fauci's "cute Brooklyn accent." She wouldn't have been able to guess his age, she added, pointing out that he's an avid runner, and has serious light-up-the-room energy. "He's very knowledgeable and expert, but he speaks in a really approachable way," Zarella, 33, told me. "Everyone wants to know what's going on, and he delivers." Alexander, 25, agrees, saying, "I do personally think that he actually is attractive, and it's not unheard of for people to be attracted to older men. Look at Jeff Goldblum." I proposed to her that Goldblum is an actual Hollywood star, and that there might be something strange about presenting Fauci as one. "We're not trying to prop him up and make him a celebrity," she told me. "It's just an appreciation of him. He's working 16plus-hour days." Americans have had plenty of political crushes before. There have been more durable ones on presidents such as John F. Kennedy, Ronald Reagan, and, more recently, Barack Obama. By the time Obama became a public figure, the internet was ready to amplify conversations about thirsting over handsome and competent men: In 2007, one of YouTube's first mainstream viral hits was a comedy music video called "Crush on Obama," starring the actress Amber Lee Ettinger as a young woman in booty shorts who wants to make out with the then-senator from Illinois. "I did develop a crush on Obama," Ettinger told me. (Today, she's an Instagram influencer who posts mom-related lifestyle content.) "He was this young, sauve, handsome fellow. People felt a personal connection with him when he spoke." For Fauci, she speculated, the incentives for crushing are a little bit different. "No. 1, his little New York accent. He feels like a voice of reason, someone you can trust. He has a calming presence about him. Supersmart. I think he's adorable." The more obvious precedent for Fauci's newfound celebrity is another flavor-of-the-week public figure, Special Counsel Robert Mueller, who became a superhero and stoic boyfriend to the left during his investigation of Russian interference in the 2016 election. That in itself was not entirely novel: For a brief period after 9/11, then-Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld was treated as a sex symbol--as Salon put it, a "hot Republican war dad." Mueller, like Fauci, became crushable because of the perception that he was unflappable, soberly sifting through facts and ignoring irrelevant clangor during a tense situation. One woman told the Associated Press last year, "I admire [Mueller's] mystique. I admire that I haven't heard his voice." But although lots of Americans are making these men into heartthrobs--whether as a joke or sincerely--it doesn't mean we actually want them to act like celebrities. We just want to be taken care of, and we don't want anything to shatter the illusion that they can save us.