Once I figured out who Chris Martin is, I was extremely flattered that he dreams about me. It's always a beautiful day when I have something this validating happen to me.

He doesn't, like, out and out say he has wet dreams, but I know a nocturnal emission when I smell one. You can't travel with three other dudes in the close confines of private jets for 40 or whatever years without becoming intimately acquainted with all kinds of smelly fluids, sticky substances and poo.

For the uninitiated, Chris Martin is the young man -- is 31 young these days?  -- from Coldplay. Or, as I now call them, "Couldplay ... with my balls."

See, as much as I'm flattered that Chris dreams about my peach-like perineum, I find his obsequiousness a little disconcerting:

I always dream about other musicians. And with U2 or Radiohead it’s always, ‘Hey, how are you doing?’ And they are never interested in hanging out with us. It’s a permanent feeling of being at school and the bigger boys don’t want to play with you.

This is the kind of confession that makes bigger boys stuff guys like him in a locker. Insecurity is never attractive in a rock star, not even from a twee emo douche such as Chris Martin.

So, Chris, if you're reading this, which of course you are, I regret (not really) to inform you that I won't be adding you to the list of dudes I'd like to get stuck in a moment with provided I weren't so damned heterosexual.

Seriously, you've got to "play" it a little "cooler" than this. Hold on. I just re-read the quote and saw that you mentioned Radiohead. In the same sentence. As U2.

Does this mean you want a full-blown (so to speak) orgy with both bands? I am 110 percent down with that idea if you can persuade Gwyneth to participate. Have her wear a poofy dress from "Shakespeare in Love," and I'll show her an Academy Award-worthy performance.

(Photo by Foraggio Fotographic via Flickr.)