Anonymous Crushes: A love letter to Mayor Tecklenburg's forehead

Photography from Joint Base Charleston. Beloved Mayor Tecklenburg in conversation.

Photography from Joint Base Charleston. Beloved Mayor Tecklenburg in conversation.

Disclaimer: This article was submitted anonymously through our annual Anonymous Crush Survey and does not reflect The Rival CofC’s beliefs or viewpoints about Charleston’s mayor.

Mayor Tecklenburg - ever since I first saw his flaccid, bespectacled visage on tv, talking about a proposal to improve Charleston’s drainage systems (or something to that effect), I knew that the streets of Charleston were not the only thing in danger of flooding.

To be honest though, I probably only digested a liquid 7% of what he was talking about. I was too distracted by the way his hair immaculately parted as if it were two silvery drapes, delicately pushed aside to reveal some beautiful Kinkadian view of a countryside. Except, instead of a glowing, pastoral landscape, we get to see the glow of his tender, pink forehead, embossed with gentle creases that come from years of consternation and sharp focus.

From his time studying jazz at Berklee College of Music, through his position as Charleston’s director of economic development, all the way up until his current tenure as our beloved mayor, the beautiful ridges and disconformities that Father Time has deftly deposited onto John’s face meat can be observed like those that Mother Gaia has deposited in the formations of our Earth meat. If stratigraphic diagrams were half as interesting to study as John Tecklenburg’s forehead, I never would have dropped Geology 102.

But John, being a man of the people, puts his glorious forehead on display for all to bask in every time he sweeps those silvery locks aside. Regardless of your ability to afford tuition, we all get to ‘mire that sweet, sweet dome of his.

Flanking the sacred, fleshy temple that we have now established is John’s forehead, are his literal temples. Although they are obfuscated by the crescendos of his salt and pepper partition, we know they are there. And just like any hard working person, we know that these points can hold extreme amounts of tension. Does Mrs. Tecklenburg massage these points of psychic resonance? I’m speaking to you now, John. Does she put on My Bloody Valentine albums (even though you’re probably more of a Slowdive fan, good man), rest your weary head in her lap, and, while you gaze around the layout of the darkened room, enjoying the redolence of lavender essential oil and the tasteful Andy Warhol posters, tell you that your zoning committee meeting tomorrow will go great?

This sounds like an ASMR role play, and while I admit it would be a great one, this could be you, John.