If you need someone to blame, blame Patrick Swayze.
You know what I’m talking about. Roadhouse is fine. Ghost? Acceptable. Point Break is worth a watch.
All of them fantastic enough. Watching those gems, you’ll never find yourself with someone who’s wistfully wishing to be wanted by a saintly rebel.
I discovered this early. Sitting at a diner, dipping fries into shakes. We talked about Baby and Johnny. Then the hypnosis set in. She was gone: dreaming of loverboys and watermelons and wet clothes in mountain lakes.
I never got her back. She’s committed. I hope she finds her Johnny.
Because this Johnny? I crawl on the floor, I can dance, I bite my lower lip when appropriate.
But I sleep in sometimes. I gain weight. I sing off key. And I’ll try and try and try, but I can’t make you happy.
Maybe Patrick can.