I've noticed a bit of an anti Ed Sheeran movement and my feeling is there should be no reason for this. Ed seems like an affable fellow; I certainly haven't heard any kitten killing rumours. Yet it's no surprise to me, this unnecessary loathing; there have been some people in my life that have made me feel the same.
There was a girl I knew at university who had a lot of boyfriends and in between the boyfriends, she had a lot of sex. I heard about her long before I met her because even in 2001 it was possible for a girl to have 'a reputation' (a fact that, to my shame, I accepted without question). At the time I thought that having a lot of sexual partners was very cool. I wasn't yet aware that sex isn't always empowering. I wasn't even interested in sex to be honest, I was interested in being desired and to have slept with a lot of people, by my calculations, made you very desirable.
The first time I saw her was on a street corner. She stopped to say hello to the classmate I was walking with. She mentioned her most recent conquest - a sandy haired, rebel I may or may not have had an almighty, unrequited crush on. She was polite, pleasant, and that was all. I was perhaps two inches taller; her skin was fair to my tan; her messy bun was mousey and her hoodie declared she studied history and not psychology; other than that she was just like me or rather there was no reason why I could not be just like her.
So back to Ed. Imagine you met Ed. Not mega famous, multi-platinum album Ed but another Ed, identical in every way, minus the money and fame. Let's say your mate has just begun a relationship with Ed and she introduces you to him over casual drinks. Let's say the next day you have lunch with a mutual friend of original friend. Mutual friend would say,
'So, tell me, this Ed, what's he like?' You would shrug and say,
'He's okay.' Mutual friend would shake her head and dismiss the waiter for two more minutes,
'But what else? There must be more. Is he fit?' You would look to the sky, your face contorted with concentration, and say,
'Erm, he looks like that one from Harry Potter, you know the ginger one?' Then you would shrug again and say, 'He's just nice.' By this time mutual friend would be bored and would proceed to tell you a story about her weird housemate who hides the best saucepans under his bed and Ed would be all but forgotten. This is why you hate him.
You hate Ed Sheeran because he gives you nowhere to hide; you cannot attribute his success to his looks or his connections or, arguably, his talent. Ed forces you to confront the question, if he can do it, why can't I? So next time Ed Sheeran comes on the radio, which let's face it will be in the next forty-five seconds, take the opportunity to ask yourself, what have I done today to make my ordinary extraordinary?