I met him on a Monday and my heart stood still...
My first true love was Shaun Cassidy. I was ten, he was twenty, and I plotted endlessly in my head about how when he was thirty I would be twenty and we could get married.
I was certain he would wait for me.
I planned my whole week around the Hardy Boys, and anxiously awaited the show. (And occasionally might have been brought to tears when it was a Nancy Drew week.) I followed his every move in the pages of Teen Beat, memorizing his favorite foods and tennis shoes, poring over his every word searching for clandestine meaning that would prove for once and for all of fourth grade that we were destined to be together.
I put a poster next to my bed, and endlessly, earnestly sang duets with him to Hey Deanie and DaDooRunRun and Hey There Lonely Girl and That's Rock -n-Roll until my mother was ready to soundproof my room or declare a moratorium on all things Shaun Cassidy.
And then the TV show ended, and his third album wasn't as catchy as the other two and I started thinking that twenty was a little too early to think about marriage.
But then he'd be forty, and probably not nearly as cute.
And so it was. My love affair with Shaun Cassidy came to a tragic but quiet end.
We parted amicably.
It's rated PG-13 and my not quite 6 year-old daughter, High School Musical addicted daughter is heartbroken that I won't let her see it.
She knows every song from all three (G-rated) High School Musical films (in which Zac Efron plays Troy, the dreamy, singing basketball star of the East High Wildcats) and can frequently be found in her room, serenading her Troy and Gabriela dolls with You Are the Music in Me at full volume, or staring mooney-eyed at the High School Musical poster that hangs on her wall.
I know just how she feels.