When I was a little girl, Gilligan's Island was my FAVORITE show. I loved the tropical island setting and thought that if I broke the screen of the tv, I could jump inside and join the island cast. The show was soooo funny! For hours, I would watch sexy Ginger use her magic powers to make men on the island bend to her will; I'd watch the Professor create brilliant inventions to provide creature-comforts to the castaways; and I'd laugh hysterically at the witty banter between Gilligan and the Skipper.
When I grew up and discovered the show again, I sat in shock...the witty show of my childhood...fucking blew. Like, really blew. I could not believe that this love (LOVE) from my childhood was the same as the campy, sad performance before me. It was a tragic disappointment that has stuck with me my entire adult life. Yes, I realize how pathedic this sounds, and I own it. ...disappointment unequalled ... my entire adult life.
Whenever I rediscovered childhood loves that do not live up to my adult expectations, I refer to them as The Gilligan Island's Affect. Sadly, the Affect has reoccurred, but this time with a friend I loved and admired. Many years ago, yours truly was a broken-hearted twenty-something recovering from a break-up with her college boyfriend. I met the sweetest boy I'd ever known. Of course, because I was still in love with college-guy, I could not do anything but be a complete bitch (that's always my default standard). I was not as kind as I wanted to be. He would call; I would ignore. He'd call again...and I never called him back. I felt horrible but justified the situation as a blimp...a mere crush sweet-boy had on me and I would never see him again.
Years later, sweet-boy found me and we reconnected. And I immediately wanted to (and did) fuck his brains out. But quite surprisingly we really connected. My affection for him and attraction to him was wratched up several knotches -- like, 700 notches. I unexpectedly fell for him. I knew it would never work. For as much as we had in common, we had double the differences (and it would never --never, ever, ever, ever -- have worked). But as previously discussed, emotions and common sense are two distinct, unequal entities in my brain, and the emotions overrode the common sense portion. He moved on with someone else. And when that happened, nasty things were said by both parties; we were childish and we did not speak.
More years later, we both realized that we were being stupid. We had dinner recently, and as he kept talking all I could think to myself was, "I can't believe I ever fucked his guy." Let alone fell for him. The evening was awkward . I attempted to clear the air and bring up our disconnect, but he became defensive and would not take responsibility for his part. My attempt to clear the air was promptly thrown back in my face.
It is such a shock to discover that once upon a time I actually fell for...Gilligan himself. I was not only disappointed in the the person (or lack there of) he had become (...up close and personal view of the fact that aging and maturing are two distinct and different things) but the fact that I had put him on a pedestal all these years as super-fantastic-sweetest-boy-in-the-world. I had dreamed of him. I had fantasized about him. I wasted hours thinking about him. I threw away relationships comparing other men to him. And he's a silly moron on an island that wears the same outfit every day.
And although I wish I could get a refund on all the wasted time and effort ...instead, I'll simply take comfort that I now know better than to break the tv and jump inside.
When I grew up and discovered the show again, I sat in shock...the witty show of my childhood...fucking blew. Like, really blew. I could not believe that this love (LOVE) from my childhood was the same as the campy, sad performance before me. It was a tragic disappointment that has stuck with me my entire adult life. Yes, I realize how pathedic this sounds, and I own it. ...disappointment unequalled ... my entire adult life.
Whenever I rediscovered childhood loves that do not live up to my adult expectations, I refer to them as The Gilligan Island's Affect. Sadly, the Affect has reoccurred, but this time with a friend I loved and admired. Many years ago, yours truly was a broken-hearted twenty-something recovering from a break-up with her college boyfriend. I met the sweetest boy I'd ever known. Of course, because I was still in love with college-guy, I could not do anything but be a complete bitch (that's always my default standard). I was not as kind as I wanted to be. He would call; I would ignore. He'd call again...and I never called him back. I felt horrible but justified the situation as a blimp...a mere crush sweet-boy had on me and I would never see him again.
Years later, sweet-boy found me and we reconnected. And I immediately wanted to (and did) fuck his brains out. But quite surprisingly we really connected. My affection for him and attraction to him was wratched up several knotches -- like, 700 notches. I unexpectedly fell for him. I knew it would never work. For as much as we had in common, we had double the differences (and it would never --never, ever, ever, ever -- have worked). But as previously discussed, emotions and common sense are two distinct, unequal entities in my brain, and the emotions overrode the common sense portion. He moved on with someone else. And when that happened, nasty things were said by both parties; we were childish and we did not speak.
More years later, we both realized that we were being stupid. We had dinner recently, and as he kept talking all I could think to myself was, "I can't believe I ever fucked his guy." Let alone fell for him. The evening was awkward . I attempted to clear the air and bring up our disconnect, but he became defensive and would not take responsibility for his part. My attempt to clear the air was promptly thrown back in my face.
It is such a shock to discover that once upon a time I actually fell for...Gilligan himself. I was not only disappointed in the the person (or lack there of) he had become (...up close and personal view of the fact that aging and maturing are two distinct and different things) but the fact that I had put him on a pedestal all these years as super-fantastic-sweetest-boy-in-the-world. I had dreamed of him. I had fantasized about him. I wasted hours thinking about him. I threw away relationships comparing other men to him. And he's a silly moron on an island that wears the same outfit every day.
And although I wish I could get a refund on all the wasted time and effort ...instead, I'll simply take comfort that I now know better than to break the tv and jump inside.
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