When I grow up I want to be a rock star.
It'll give me lots of guys - good looking guys with big muscles and great manhoods. I'll pick them myself from those hundreds of adoring fans. And then I'll screw them, use them and leave 'em.
And all my girlfriends will get jelous and want to be just like me.
I also want the guys to carry me around, feeding me grapes and champagne. Lots and lots!
And I want everyone to want me, to yell: "Birgitta, I love you, marry me, have my children!", and then they'll throw me their underwear, while I'm rocking on stage.
Perhaps that'll make me really feel loved.