The Evolution of Crushes

My very first crush , about age 5 , was on my dad...I wanted to marry him, he could build me shelves for my Barbies and fix my bike ... my mother told me I could have him ... and all his laundry too.

Age 7 , definitely Paul McCartney...the Beatles had invaded America, I wrote him a fan letter and invited him to dinner...just don't bring Ringo.

Somewhere in between, I thought Ken was pretty cute, although a bit plastic...but he did exactly what I told him to do, and I liked that.

By 10, (1967) I was torn between Davey Jones of the Monkees (it was a Brit thing) and Carl Yastremski....he was left handed like me and that pretty much ended at that.

Junior High school found me turning my crushes in towards my own social strata...the football captains and the errant bad boys both had my heart. In a bit of James Dean vs. Johnny Unitas.

By high school, it was James Taylor and when I was feeling rebellious, Jim Morrison...but a word of warning, never have a crush on a man whose hair is nicer than yours, or a smaller butt, it can only breed contempt.

In my twenties, I stopped having crushes on unattainable men, and developed crushes on guys my age ...mostly musicians, and romantic poetry writers... they all were jobless, aimless and I saw that as freedom..instead of just dumb.

Although somewhere in there there was a bodybuilder, Corvette driving insurance salesman (he did play guitar)... but I think that was an extension of Ken.

In my 30's , my crushes turned to men who had some kind of power, politically, financially, socially... I knew by then, that money was a bit more important , especially in the shoe department...'nuff said.

Tick, tick, tick, what's that?? Ohh the ol' biological clock.... it hits big time in the early 40's...if you haven't conceived by then... plus the sing song voice of your mother saying "A woman only has so many eggs, dear"... starts resonating in your ears like a stadium horn....

sooo the crushes go to good breeding and fatherly stock.... Mel Gibson (pre Oksana) and Harrison Ford, and of course Paul McCartney, whose loving, monogamous, musical, progeny heavy, marriage to Linda was the bomb!

Now I am in my 50's, and gone away are all the romantic ideals...and I am faced with the stark reality that all I really need is a man who can plumb a toilet and find the stud in the wall to hang my new mirror

...they have all been replaced by Mike Holmes

...that's right gals, that's what it comes down to, a crew cut overall wearin' Canadian handyman. He fixes everything and gives you a big hug and leaves.

So now we have come full circle haven't we, we just want our daddies after all...

all that money wasted on therapy, you could've just read this.

....