Take My Breath Away, please!

For YEARS, Take My Breath Away was my go to song when I had a crush on a boy. This started in 7th grade when I loved Steve. Oh how I wish I could use his full name. He'd probably be so flattered, especially since he peaked in middle school. Ouch. But anyway, Steve was the love of my pre-menstrual life. I wrote a poem about him, passed notes about him, and wrote this in my diary:

2/28/1992

I [heart, heart, heart, heart, heart, heart, heart] Steve aka Joho.* Talk about babeacious. I don't know 'bout his personality, but I do know about his looks. Omigod, he's awesome.

3/5/1992

I [heart] Steve. Yesterday at basketball, his team was practicing before us. I was dying. Cailin kept peeking and said he looked good. Then we went in and he did. He took off his shirt. Omigod, he's awesome. It was some sight.

The point is that Take My Breath Away is the song that made love sick, that me crazy in love, that exacerbated the pain of unrequited love. Needless to say I stole my sister's Top Gun soundtrack cassette tape and listened to the song over and over. When I finally got a dual cassette tape player that summer, I made a mix tape that also included "All through the Night" by Cyndi Lauper and "Never Tear Us Apart" by INXS. I acted as if my heart had been broken or as if I had been brutally dumped, when the truth is Steve spoke to me once the whole year to borrow a calculator. They were beautiful words though.

But it wasn't just Steve who got the "Take My Breath Away" treatment. So did Kris. And Kevin. And Scott. And every other boy who smiled at me at least one time. Hey, it didn't take much. I was the spelling bee champion and a mathlete. I was happy with whatevs attention an XY species would pay me.

So tonight I got home from work and started cooking dinner and opened up my Itunes on shuffle and "Take My Breath Away" came on. And I got really, really emotional. Like, 8th grade emotional. I mean, I started fantasizing about my crush and wondering when he would start talking to me and take me out to dinner and kiss me on the lips and all that stuff.

And what made me sad/confused/pathetic is I don't have one crush now. I mean, yes, there are boys I like but it's not like middle school where you see the same boys every day. Well, I do at work but they're all gay or married so I don't count them.

So then I decided to use my imagination. I have a very fertile one, especially when it comes to fantasizing about boyfriends. In the past (in my mind) I hate dated rock stars (including Pete Yorn), Adrian Grenier, hedge-fund guys, investment bankers (thank God that was just in my mind!), Dylan McKay, Italians, and even atheists who work for Google. None of these men had staying power, however, so there was no wedding (though there was an engagement to Adrian).

Despite all this virtual slutting around, I've always gone back to one man in my life. More like one archetype, but whatevs.

And that would be a firefighter.

Firefighters are just the hottest men ever, even if they have white trash mustaches, even if they are short, even if they are from Staten Island. I know I am not being eloquent in my word choice but who cares I am trying to get my point across. They are strong, brave, and cocky but all of this is okay because they save lives! They're fearless!

Now that I live in New York my fantasty fireman is a member of the FDNY (In the past he has worked for the city of Boston and Brookline). He works in Manhattan near my office, but he lives in Jackson Heights, Queens or perhaps Bensonhurst, Brooklyn. He grew up in Flushing, Queens and went to Catholic school k-12. His dad is a retired cop of Irish descent, his Mom teaches second grade at St. Anne's. She is Italian. My man wears a medal of St. Christopher and likes the Yankees, which is always the big joke when we fall in love and talk about kids. The girls can be Red Sox fans, he says, but the boys will love the Bronx Bombers! I laugh because my man, let's call him Nicholas because every Italian-American family I know has a Nicholas in it, wants children! And lots of them. He pays for everything and watches football at McCann's in Astoria with me. He is definitely NOT metrosexual, but he is tolerant. His favorite movie is Scarface.

So tonight before I go to bed, I will listen to "Take My Breath Away" one last time, and I will dream about Nicholas.

And tomorrow on my way to Weight Watchers I am so walking past the firehouse where a bunch of New York's Bravest work. Woohoo!






*His codename for all of us who were in love with him.