–Found this in my vault files again. Posting in honor of Jon’s Birthday. Of course, I will always remember… Silly girl.
It was the summer before my senior year in high school that I fell in love when I saw the MTV of “Bed of Roses” for the first time. I was completely and extremely enraptured! That husky voice, that beautiful blonde mane, that sexy, charming, toothy grin that oozed with sweetness and intensity and earnestness…and that body! Those shoulders. Wow.
I have, with passionate conviction, declared that if I can’t marry Jon Bon Jovi, I will never marry at all.
Every second of every minute of every hour of every day, I listened to “Bed of Roses”, memorized every word and every note. I could even sing to the Spanish version. I had all his albums. Love is truly in the air. And everything was set for our lifetime together. I will be the ever willing little trophy wifey who will accompany him on all his tours and say yes to his every little whim. Except for a few minor details: we still haven’t met each other. And how are we going to meet each other? And then there’s this matter about the wife and daughter (he didn’t have a son during those times yet. I had thought that he was going to have a son with me, but…).
I was confident that when we do meet, he won’t be able to resist my mysterious allure, my feminine charm, my oh-so enchanting appeal – which I admit, I didn’t quite have but will instantly possess once he sees me. And then, he will be captivated. Those groupies and sex kittens that surrounded him all the time would be of no consequence, his wife and daughter completely forgotten. I never wanted to be a home wrecker but there was no other choice. He and I were going to be in love. He was going to get a divorce soon.
In my mind, the one sided love affair began. And flourished. But, as is typical of all rock stars, he let me down – went on so many tours and left me at home to wait and to wonder about him and his groupies.
What about those bubblegum kisses we did so many times in my mind, Jon? Didn’t that mean anything to you at all? …Where you caught me unawares, grab me by the waist from behind and turn me around to look into your eyes, and then you passionately and torridly kiss me (with the tongue twisters and all…) while I try to resist until I stop resisting because your passionate and torrid kiss (with the tongue twisters and all…) has overpowered my senses, and my knees have given out and I had no choice but to give in to sweet surrender (think romance novel covers with hot-blooded half naked man and woman – with creamy skin and long, shiny, wavy tresses cascading down her half naked sexy back and Angelina Jolie lips and mile long lashes, shut-up-this-is-my-fantasy – locked in passionate embrace!). And when we finally pulled apart, well actually, you pulled apart first (with great difficulty) because you had to stop yourself because I was an innocent, young woman and you just couldn’t allow yourself to ruin my sacred womanhood. And then when I came to my senses, I realized my bubblegum was gone. I said, my bubblegum! I swallowed my bubblegum! And then you smiled wickedly and started chewing and blowing a bubble.
But I am strong. I got over him and I moved on (to Eddie Vedder, to Keanu Reeves, To Jude Law, to Wentworth Miller, to James McAvoy…). Anyway, I thought, imagine all those concert tours, those rabid, raging fans, the stress. I just can’t deal with that kind of pressure.