My friends got me into NKOTB initially, but as soon as I set eyes on Joey MacIntyre I wasn’t just casually interested in his singing; I was in lust. That gorgeous smile, those eyes…the way he did “the right stuff shuffle.” It was all I ever wanted in a man at the age of 12 and a half.
As soon as I realized I was his biggest fan, my 17 magazines had all the pages featuring him marked with hearts so I could memorize the fact that he liked chocolate ice cream and his Mom’s meatloaf. I’d swoon a little at the thought he loved his Mom, and then kiss his poster on my wall before going to bed every night. I’d even be lulled off to sleep with memories of the songs Joey sang running through my head. In fact, “Please Don’t Go Girl” actually wore out from being played and rewound so many times.
I was so taken in by the mass marketing aimed literally at the hearts of teens and tweens nationwide that I developed very strong feelings of what I thought was love for Joey after a time. Such strong feelings that I was sure he–or the universe at large– could feel them too. That despite the odds, a girl from a small suburban town in Virginia could meet and fall in love with a member from the most popular band of the 90’s. My love life–or rather our love lives– depended on it.
I had it all planned out. He would be tired from the no doubt demanding job of being a teenage sex symbol and take a much needed break at the Mall in my small hometown. I’d casually be hanging with my friends (styling with my feathered bangs cemented four inches above my forehead). Then, I’d take a lick from my cone of my chocolate ice cream, turn, and fate would intervene. Our eyes would lock outside “Bath and Body Works” and sparks would fly.
“Wow, you like chocolate?” he would ask, even though my preferred flavor was mint chocolate chip. “Me too!” he’d croon in that familiar falsetto I’d grown addicted to. Obviously he’d fall for me instantly.
I wouldn’t let on that I was crazy about him. I would be “nervous about his celebrity” and resist being his girlfriend at first. He would then (naturally) call me constantly to reassure me over the phone, then pound on the door of my parents house to beg for my attention. I would of course reluctantly cave in to his arduous wooing and let him kiss me. After that, our love would be solid. Everyone in my 7th grade class would be struck with awe and green with envy as Joey and I paraded through the halls of the local Junior High School holding hands and staring into each others eyes.
On some level I realized that Joey MacIntire was very very unlikely to ever be my boyfriend. I mean I didn’t exactly expect to run into George Bush Sr. at the car wash or think that Will Smith would be having coffee at MacDonalds down the road. Heck, I wasn’t even allowed to stay up for a NKOTB live concert. But, like millions of other girls with crushes on boy band members, the longing to talk to him and to touch him was every bit as real as if I’d fallen for a boy that rode the bus with me in the mornings. After all, I’d been told that love could move mountains, and because I was so over the moon, I was sure he could feel it too. Even if he’d never met me.
It all ended when I saw a picture of Joey MacIntyre with another girl on some gossip rag. I don’t remember the name of the magazine but I do remember the sting of jealousy and the pain of real rejection I felt when I saw some blonde with poofier hair than mine standing beside the boy I loved. I was depressed for weeks. I stopped wearing my NKOTB t-shirts and moped around the house knowing that my time with Joey MacIntyre running through my head ceaselessly was over. He had a girlfriend and it wasn’t me.
At my lowest, I went to my Mom to sooth my feelings. Trying to be coy, I simply ask her what happened when a boy didn’t like you back. She saw right through me and answered with exasperation as she plunked the keys of our old Baldwin in the living room “You don’t even know Joey MacIntrye.” and further poured salt into my open heart by adding “In a few years, nobody will even remember who the New Kids On the Block are.” She didn’t even look up from the music she was practicing. She was accompanying some some famous Opera star but because I was in the depths of despair I could have cared less. It didn’t have anything to do with NKOTB so it seemed insignificant.
I don’t know if my Mom was right. In recent years NKOTB has enjoyed a kind of revival, so the group has endured, at least for 30 something women who loved them then and want to remember. At least for me though, Joey McIntyre loosened his grip on my consciousness and other boys took his place as a love interest in my life. I had my first date at 14, dated sporadically throughout my high school career, and then finally in college met the man I married. I felt an intensity with all the relationships I had with other men but through it all, nothing could match the roller coaster of insanity, hopelessness and euphoria that I had felt with my first crush on that boy I never met. In fact I thought was finished with such juvenile feelings–that is until I made it to the ripe old age of 35.
Tommy. He was a guitar player I worked with who was 15 years older than me and looked like he had stepped right out of the 80’s. He wasn’t just trying to look cool though, the look permeated his being. Twenty years ago he’d played guitar professionally for some popular bands and had earned his long hair and earrings. But more than that he just had that certain undefinable something. A psychiatrist might say it was some kind of recognizable feature in my own face, or maybe it was his smell. Well, whatever it was, I liked it, and the want I had for him was primal. It hit me out of nowhere.
I didn’t bother to find out if he was married or in a relationship (maybe because I didn’t want to know the answer), but I do remember wanting something to “happen” for the longest time, but what, I didn’t know. I’d have conversations with him about music history because he was a work colleague, but thought the attraction was one sided. I would kind of look into his eyes searching for any clue that he liked me, but for months on end didn’t feel any reciprocation. “Well, I guess he just doesn’t feel the same way about me that I do about him.” I mused, and decided to forget about it. I was married anyway.
Then one day it happened. I asked his opinion about a guitar piece I was learning to play for a class. I was a pianist like my Mom, so it was logical for me to ask for his help. I asked him into my office and after I played the song I cast my eyes in his direction. The look he gave me said it all. He was not only attracted to me, he wanted to devour me. I’m certain he would have had his way with me porno style on my desk too, but there were colleagues ALL around us and windows on the doors. Instead, we both ignored it and he gave me a few comments and pointers.
The effect of his look made me crazy. Despite everything, all I could think about was Tommy. I didn’t have a moments peace in my head unless I was actively otherwise engaged in an activity that took all my mental effort. I started loosing weight from not eating and buying cloths that made me look cute. I wanted to nothing more than to be with him and would live for days analyzing how his body language might indicate he felt the same intensity.
Then one day, Tommy started avoiding me. I understood. He wasn’t 20 any longer, and I’m sure he was passed sleeping with groupies after concerts just for the heck of it. In fact he had been a newlywed (on his second wife) but knowing the facts didn’t change how I felt. I was right back where I was at 12 years old emotionally. The stabbing feeling I felt when it was obvious nothing would happen was the same exact feeling I’d had two decades earlier when I saw Joey with that girl on the cover of that magazine.
Again I moped around. I’d try to escape all 80’s rock, never realizing before how often it’s played randomly at the grocery store. I couldn’t talk about it with anyone. It was far too personal and wrong of me to discuss such a thing with my family and it certainly wasn’t something I could discuss with a friend and escape judgement. What if my confession got back to my church friends?
Fortunately for me, my teen crush had prepared me for when history would inevitably repeat itself. Had I not experienced the crush on Joey MacIntyre I wouldn’t have realized that this type of thing fizzles out. That emotions run hot and heavy but are over quickly.
Pieces of Me 