When I was a fifth grader, I loved Friday nights. It wasn’t because school was out and I had two whole days of freedom—I was a nerd, I loved school. It was because Friday nights were for TGIF, a four-show lineup on ABC from 8 p.m. until 10 p.m.—the highlight of every pre-teen’s week in the early nineties. While I enjoyed laughing with Balky on Perfect Strangers and laughing at Kode on Step by Step, there was only one reason I counted down the minutes until Friday night … Uncle Jesse.
Uncle Jesse, also known as John Stamos, was the motorcycle-riding, leather-wearing, rebellious hunk of an unc on Full House. He was obsessed with two things: Elvis Presley and his hair. I was obsessed with one thing: him. Something about his crooked smile and that twinkle in his eyes still gives me butterflies almost two decades later. I used to write page after page to him in my Hello Kitty journal. I used to cut out every picture of his in Teen Beat magazine (a true literary masterpiece). I was heartbroken when Aunt Becky hopped on the scene and even more devastated years later when he married Rebecca Romijn in real life. By the time they finally divorced, I was an old college senior—too wrinkled and bitter to pursue my one true love.
In hindsight, it was pretty creepy that I was a lusting after a man in his late twenties when I was still in a training bra. A part of me truly felt that he was the one man who would sweep me away on his white motorcycle. My love for him was so intense—too deep for any cynical adult to comprehend. I guess that’s the beauty of your first childhood crush, no matter how strong your feelings are, nobody—not even a looker like Aunt Becky—can tell you that they aren’t the real deal.
Photo source: Alan Light (cc)
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