You mean, I’m the only girl, in all of history, to have ever had a crush on Jeff Goldblum at the tender age of 13?
Ya’ll missed out. Big time.
In 1996, the original Independence Day movie came out. Like every other red-blooded American, I saw it in the theater approximately 80 times. Each new time I saw it, I grew more and more infatuated with Jeff Goldblum.
I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was those massive ears. Or, his ginormous nose? Maybe his awkward, bumbling speech. I think it was his brain, to be perfectly honest.
What 13-year-old girl would be into that?
While my friends were losing their proverbial shit over Jonathan Taylor Thomas and Devon Sawa, I was privately panting over a man who was only two.years.younger.than.my.parents.
I was a really weird kid.
After drooling in my Milk Duds over him on the big screen one too many times, I set about finding other movies he did, so I could pant in private.
It is totally beyond me how I could have researched him without the internet and IMDb. I’m seriously at a loss-how did people research pop culture in the 90s? Someone, help!
Pretty quickly, I realized he was in Jurassic Park. I watched that VHS so many times, I burned up the tape.
I also somehow found out he was in a really weird movie that came out when I was three, called The Fly. The fact he was a human-sized fly didn’t matter, because he was naked in that one. I “lost” The Fly when it was time to return it to Blockbuster. I had to pay the fee, but it was so worth it.
Because I was not exactly nonchalant about my weird girl-crush-obsession with Jeff Freaking Goldblum, my mom caught on pretty quickly.
She always aimed to raise dorks, because, “Dorks go to school, hang out with their dork friends, don’t do drugs or drink, and never get in trouble.”
My mom couldn’t have been more elated that my first crush was on an intelligent and nerdy-looking man I’d never meet. She was thrilled. (Never mind the fact that he could have been my father. Nope. Not weird at all.)
For Christmas that year, my mom seemed to have a certain gleam in her eye. It was almost devious. I just figured she was pretty stoked about getting me that Discman I wanted.
When it was finally Christmas Day, my mom was practically doing the Fat Clap. Instead of making my brother, because he was small and low to the ground, pass out the presents, my mom was on the carpet, fervently throwing presents to everyone.
She handed me a lumpy, odd shaped one that was definitely not my Discman, to open first.
As I started peeling back paper, she was sitting upright, alert, face aglow.
She seemed extra excited. Was I getting my own phone? A car three years early?? OMG! What could it be?! Her excitement made my mind wander to all sorts of amazing, unrealistic gifts.
When I finally unveiled the Most Exciting Present in the World, I was utterly confused. It was an action figure.
“Mom, I think this is for Jarrett. This is an action figure-thing.”
I flung it over to my brother, who had opened all of his presents in under a minute, so the prospect of an extra gift was everything.
My mom was not discouraged at all by my utter lack of interest in a boys’ toy.
“Now, wait a minute. Jarrett, that’s your sister’s. Hand it back.”
Christmas was officially over for my brother.
When I had it back in hand, utterly confused, and quite embarrassed that my mom felt an action figure a proper gift for her 13-year-old daughter, my mom said,
“But…lookie who it is. Who is it?”
It was then that I really looked, for the first time, at the toy.
She bought me a freaking Jeff Goldblum Independence Day action figure.
“But, isn’t he so cute? You can put him on your nightstand!”
And then she winked at me.