It is totally amazing to me what we hide. We try to go along with the status quo. If our friends all hate Wang Chung, we do our best Beavis impersonation... "Yeah, yeah. They suck." And deep in our heart of hearts we wanna have fun tonight. We wanna Wang Chung tonight.
Like last night. I was watching cable. I flipped to a channel and saw a naked woman. My first thought? "Nice tits." Then I saw her face. It was Molly Ringwald!!! I got a chubby for Molly Ringwald!!! I was mortified. For years I have gone along with my friends and professed a deep-seated hatred for this woman... And now I wanted to do her. My shame and revulsion knew no bounds. Yet, I thought back to my teen years and could recall at least one sexual fantasy having to do with her before my friends had brutally dragged her through the mud (figuratively, of course).
Not only do we hide what we like, we can even spend so much time hiding it that we convince ourselves that we don't like it. Either we're trying to fit in, or we're trying to protect some image we've created. Well no more, I say! No more!
I like elevator music, dammit! I cried at the end of Field of Dreams, okay? And forget about The Little Prince. When Richard Kiley finds his body lying by the snake's tree... Just get me a box of kleenex and hold me.
Should I be afraid to admit this stuff? Do I think this threatens my image of manliness? I'll tell you... Bring me Molly Ringwald, naked and willing... I'll show you manliness.
We all have skeletons in our closets; little peccadillos and secret shames that we keep private. But as many of you have been reading me for a while now, I feel we've grown close enough for me to admit... I like Wang Chung and I don't care who knows it!
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