Undying love for unattainable idols

TEEN crushes have always been intense.

I’m not talking about the butterflies in the stomach you got for the cute boy on the bus but full-blown celebrity obsessions.

You know, the collage-of-his-face-on-the-inside-of-your-locker kind. We all had them.

I remember asking my mum who her celebrity crush was as a young girl and she said proudly professed it was Daryl Braithwaite.

Perhaps the fan-girl loyalty never truly leaves us because sometimes I can still sense her teenage devotion during the all-in rendition of Horses that seems to signal the end of all Australian celebrations. Mine were Rob Mills (circa

Australian Idol 2003), Nick Riewoldt (former St Kilda captain) and Joel Madden from Good Charlotte (before he was judging The Voice or married to Nicole Richie).

There were regular, shameless outpourings of devotion but the digital age has seen an evolution of teen girl celeb love.

The constant access to their favourite actors, athletes and musos via social media means they’re not just daydreaming about what the subject of their infatuation is doing, they’re checking for themselves — multiple times a day. Endless screenshots of Instagram posts and Snapchat stories have replaced the collection of magazine clippings many kept in a decorated shoebox under their bed. And should you happen to meet your idol, selfies are the new autographs. Teens are no longer begging their parents for a day off to secure concert tickets to their favourite boy band, they’re making the purchase on a smartphone hidden under their desk during class, using memorised credit card numbers.

Twitter provides daily opportunities for interaction with, or acknowledgment by your favourite star that was once limited to catching their eye with a handmade “Will You Marry Me?” sign.

I feel sad they’ll never purchase a magazine just for the life-size poster of their favourite pop star. Or get excited over the additional photos in the fold-out booklet in the CD cover.

But what’s universal across all generations is the feeling you’re left with when you realise no matter how many fan letters you send or emojis you post, they still don’t know who you are — crushed.