Who did you have your first crush on?

How has it come to this? I’m sneaking around the kitchen stealing Boy One’s jelly babies and now realise I have to eat every single one and deny there was ever even one in his pick-n-mix bag. 

And I’m looking for blogging inspiration. Usually this isn’t a problem – I’m cross, ranty or enchanted by something. Only today, I’m not. Just the stolen jelly babies that are making me feel slightly sick. 

Then I found a blog post by Little Rascal Reviews about guilty crushes. Aha. Don’t worry, I’m not about to confess to daydreams about dressing James May in only the top half of a sailor suit and having him continuously load and unload the dishwasher with clean dishes. (I know such a common fantasy…)

It got me thinking about the crushes that started it all. The very first ones. 

That bloke from the Gemini Man. Google tells me there were only 11 episodes and my object of  lust was Ben Murphy.  He played a man who could turn himself invisible then would strip off everything, leaving it in an untidy heap. I remember worrying about him being naked. 

With shirts like that, you’d want to take them off too.

Steel from Sapphire and Steel. David McCallum – the only blond I’ve ever had the hots for. I couldn’t ever see what he saw in that Sapphire. Far too pouty by half. I haven’t the slightest idea what the show was about and I have a feeling that it must have been in the same broadcasting slot as the Gemini Man because I kept expecting D McC to whip his kit off. 

“Oi Perdy, please give me the number of your hairdresser, mind just doesn’t get it.”

The dad from Little House on the Prairie. He was so brave and funny and kind. And so sexy. If I could only wear gingham and have plaits… He was everything Pa Walton wanted to be. 

“Muuum, dad’s been using my hair mousse again and there’s none left.”

Starsky (not Hutch though). Everyone fancied fair, blue-eyed Hutch, so, naturally, I opted for the other one. I used to imagine elaborate scenarios where they’d come screaming into town and collect me because I was essential to whatever crime they were solving. All very well until you know that I was imagining this in Penrith, Cumbria, not the mean streets of Brooklyn. 

Doing for knitwear what the GB diving team did for Speedos

So that’s it, to redeem myself for scoffing all my firstborn son’s jellybabies have confessed. I have laid myself bare to your scorn.

Make me feel better – who did you have a thing for before you really knew what a thing was for? 

This is a partnered post, but it’s still fun to read. In any case, I’m going to have an extra large replacement jellybaby bill to pay.