Today I got to thinking about some of the “celebrity” crushes I had when I was a young girl. I’ve assembled a list of the first 18 I could think of, and tried to put them in a rough chronological order from first to last. I’m not revealing any of my current crushes, by the way (Daniel Craig in the latest James Bond movie), so don’t bother to ask.

Speed Racer, you were my first love. Clearly it was your Japanese anime-style, giant eyes that set my little heart aflutter. Plus, you just went so darned fast, and had a sidekick chimpanzee named Chim-Chim. I was so impossibly young then it didn’t occur to me that your cartoon status would keep us tragically separated forever. Sometimes I look back on those innocent days and tears form in the corners of my normal-sized, human, green eyes. Adieu, my darling. Adieu.

The Leif Garrett thingmber clearly the poster I had of him on my dooro darned fast, and had a sidekick monkey named Chim-Chimthose innocent days is inexplicable, and if I didn’t remember clearly the poster I had on my door of him wearing a blue satin jacket, I’d think the entire thing a false memory triggered by repressed psychological trauma. I mean, he looks like frickin’ Farrah Fawcett, for chrissakes. In my defense, I was five years old, what did I know? Could I ever have imagined that he would grow up to be this skeevy character?

Oh, Shaun, I still hold a soft spot in my heart for you, even after all these years. Your outfit is so jaunty, the tennis sweater tossed “devil-may-care” ‘round your shoulders. It wasn’t you who was Born Late, my sweet, it was me. Hey, Deenie, won’t you come out tonight? The stars are dancin’, there’s diamonds in the moonlight/Hey Deenie, you’re the one I’m dreaming of…. Guess who pretended for several years, secretly, that her name was Deenie?

Scott Baio’s recent reappearance/despicable attack on a defenseless world has only served to deepen my shame about the depth of feeling I once held for Chachi. Now immune to his charm, when I look coldly back, it’s apparent that the only thing I ever saw in him was a resemblance to my first love, Speed Racer. But Scott Baio isn’t fit to wipe Speed’s shoes, and I think I knew it even then, deep down.

When Star Wars first came out, I was still in my brief, but ill-advised “blonde” stage, plus I thought Han Solo was old (what an IDIOT!), so Luke Skywalker was my guy. I orchestrated many dreams wherein I inserted myself into the Star Wars Saga, as Princess Leia’s little sister, Princess Julie, who got to go on intergalactic dates with Luke (since, in my opinion, Julie was the most beautiful name I’d ever heard) (and also I wouldn’t find out until Return of the Jedi that Leia was actually Luke’s sister) (gross). I loved Luke for, oh, I don’t know, maybe 3 years? And then all of a sudden, I saw him for what he was: a boring, poorly-acted puss who whines about wanting to go over to Tosche Station to pick up some power converters instead of helping his uncle with chores. So then I switched my allegiance to:

And, in all honesty, I can’t say that I’ve ever really gotten over the Han Solo thing. Case in point, our Halloween costumes from just this past October:

Here is where the crushes start to get a little complicated. I know that Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory came out in 1971, but I don’t remember watching it until I was about 7 or 8 years old. My crush on Gene Wilder as Willie Wonka was a little disturbing even then, but it was his ability to see through the bullshit of the jerky kids and into the good character of the poor-but-honorable Charlie that made me love him. His eyes were so kind, and he was so loving and understanding of how hard it could be sometimes to be a kid, especially a kid who didn’t have the right clothes or perfect house. Even later, when I read Roald Dahl’s book, I always pictured Gene Wilder in my mind.

Ok, Richard Dreyfuss in The Goodbye Girl. More creepy crush madness that touched upon deep-seated (but then unrealized) issues of paternal abandonment and a need for attention that would resurface much later in crushes on “real” teachers, drill sergeants, college professors, and others in perceived positions of authority. None of which were ever acted upon, of course.

I think everyone in the free world had the hots for John Travolta in Grease, so I don’t think I have anything to apologize for. I saw this as a double feature with Saturday Night Fever at the Dunes Theater in Zion, IL in 1978. Would you let your kid go to see Saturday Night Fever at 8 years old?

I’m truly ashamed of this one and wish with all my might that I could take it back. IT BURNS!

Ok, the crush was Jake Ryan in Sixteen Candles, played by Michael Schoeffling. But since I’m being perfectly honest, I can admit that I had a crush on Farmer Ted, too.

It wasn’t Tom Hulce I had a crush on, it was Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, as imagined by Milos Forman. I must have watched this movie 150 times at least. I was so revved up about Mozart that I checked out every book I could find about him in the library, and was stupefied by the discrepancy between the real story and the movie, Amadeus. That sound you hear? It’s the still-echoing sound of my heart breaking back in 1985.

David Addison in Moonlighting, NOT Bruce Willis. Please remember that.

I’ve sunk so low now I might as well tell the whole truth: I had my first-ever sex dream about Johnny Castle in Dirty Dancing. My skin just crawled off and slunk away and is going to live in the house next door where surely no one has ever had a sex dream involving Patrick Swayze.

Leslie Howard as Professor Henry Higgins in Pygmalion. Another one of those movies I watched ad nauseum. More creepy crushiness; I wanted to be changed, to be different from the person I was. And he was just the man to improve me.

Lloyd Dobler from the last great movie of the 80′s, Cameron Crowe’s wondrous Say Anything. I still love him and will until I’m in my grave. Mind you, I never confused Lloyd with the actor who played him, and have NEVER had a thing for John Cusack.

I loved just about everything River Phoenix did. I find it pretty hard to even look at this picture of him. So beautiful, talented, and young. And dead.

This concludes the first 18 crushes of my youth that I could remember. Who was your crush?