For two fleeting, glorious weeks, we get to fantasize about these perfect specimens—and feel patriotic about being horny.

The Olympics crush is a very special relationship.

It’s a beautiful, oh-so-brief phenomenon, an enthusiastic fling brought on by the rare combination of patriotism and abject horniness. It is both obvious—would you believe the best athletes in the world have rockin’ bods?—and profound: The superficiality of it all is wrapped in awe over their talent. It’s like swooning over a superhero. No mortal should be capable of what they accomplish; and also, goddamn are they hot.

There’s a trueness, a nobility, that we project on Olympians by virtue of the fact that they are Olympians. I don’t presume to know whether or not these people are truly good. The assumption is part of the fantasy. Yet what’s also unique about the Olympic crush is that, earnest as that assumption may be, the infatuation is by no means puritanical. As important as the moral upstanding we assign these athletes is the certainty that they f***.

People are obsessed with the sex lives of Olympians. Especially when they’re envisioning the Olympians having sex with them.

The transience of the Olympic crush is also key. For two weeks, they will be all we think about and drool over. When the Games are over, they’re gone, and along with them any lingering shame to be had over the objectification and lust—the carnal, feral lust—we succumbed to for a fortnight.

Who leads the ranks of Olympic crushes, Paris edition?

Listen, we’re only human. That French diver and his bulge… Obviously Jules Bouyer has occupied every waking thought—and many sleeping ones—I’ve had this week. C’mon. He’s a handsome diver who has gone viral for the size of his package in his Speedo… and he’s French!

I’m going to continue by fully embracing our basic bitch nature and join my fellow gays on the internet by simply pointing out, “Hey, here’s a hot athlete! Enjoy!” In that spirit, may I introduce you to Canadian gymnast William Émard?

There are plenty of options to thirst over from Team USA’s swimming roster, but I’ve fallen deeply in love with Bobby Finke, who not only looks like he could have starred in a WB drama while I was a teenager, but, according to NBC’s clip package, has an incredibly endearing relationship with his family. We love a nice guy-hot guy! Plus, he’s a long distance swimmer, so you know he has endurance.

Like most people, I’m charmed by Tom Daley, his enthusiasm for the sport of diving, and his hobby of knitting sweaters while in the stands watching his teammates. I’m also mystified by his ability to defy the laws of physics with the size of his Speedos. How can they be *that small* without him mooning the entire world? He also wins points for recreating the iconic Titanic scene while serving as the U.K.’s flag bearer during the opening ceremony.

When is the Nobel Prize being awarded to the designer of Dutch swimmer’s Arno Kamminga’s suit?

For sheer badassery, we must, of course, mention Brazilian surfer Gabriel Medina, who celebrated riding the perfect wave by posing while in midair, looking like he’s floating through the sky.

Team USA’s gymnastic squad are collective Olympics crushes for me. They are my husbands, my wives, my children, my mothers, my daddies. As a nerd enthusiast, I’m giddy over the viral moment Stephen Nedoroscik is having. But for the sheer joy these 10 athletes have brought me this week, I can’t single out just one.

Ever since photos of her in competition spread across my social media timeline, I haven’t stopped thinking about South Korean pistol shooter Kim Yeji. I don’t love guns, obviously. But she just looks so… cool.

I feel a spiritual connection with Italian gymnast Giorgia Villa, who is literally sponsored by parmesan cheese, and therefore does photo shoots in which she is posing with and embracing giant wheels of parm. I’ve never been more jealous.

Then there’s my ultimate talent crush: Katie Ledecky. She won her 13th medal this week, becoming the most decorated female Olympian in U.S. history. That, and she can swim with a glass of chocolate milk on her head:

Finally, there’s Carlos Alcaraz, forever my mouth-breathing king. This crush is perennial, not just Olympic-timed, but was sweetened this past week because of his doubles partnership with legend Rafael Nadal. The two of them passionately embracing each other may or may not have been something I’ve dreamed about once.