Patrick Swayze was my first crush. He is dead now. I am sad. I wrote about it in this week’s Concessions:
Swayze—he of the grinding groin and the pachanga and the half-orc brother (not to kick you when you’re down, Don Swayze, but that FACE is CRAZY!)—was what one might call Lindy West’s First Crush. Dirty Dancing was a formative force in my development as a small heterosexual human (supplementary materials: the music videos for Billy Idol’s “Cradle of Love,” Bon Jovi’s “Blaze of Glory,” and Warrant’s “Cherry Pie”). In the year 1989, I was probably not old enough to be watching Dirty Dancing, and I sure as shit had no idea what I was looking at most of the time (back-alley abortia-who?), but I knew that this “Johnny Castle” person with the lady-haircut and the high-waisted tights was my kind of situation.
Read the whole thing HERE.
