I have to re-blog this as an ode to old and unrequited love. I don’t think she ever read this blog post, so I am risking her recognizing herself one more time. But I am old. What can a grandma do to an old man like me that could possibly still hurt?
Yes, I admit it, I had some serious crushes when I was but a boy. Mickey (himself) always said that he hated girls. He said that repeatedly until he was fourteen and that lie could be twisted into some kind of “you-must-be-gay” sort of insult. Couldn’t have that, could we? Especially since my only experience of sex was violent and with another boy. But how could I ever admit the truth about the girls I loved? It was all too silly for words.
Annette Funicello was someone I only saw in Disney movies. And she was quite a bit older than I was. She was born in 1942, and when I was a lovesick puppy of twelve, she was already an old woman of 26 years. I am thinking about her again…
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