In 1988 I was 5, and much to the chagrin of my mother I wanted a pink bedroom, complete with pink carpet and matching floral print comforters on my two twin beds. The only thing in my room that did not match my chosen rose colored motif was the orange poster of The Monkees above my bed. I was 5 and I was madly in love with Davy Jones. In 1988 Davy Jones was 43, but as far as I knew he was 20. I saw him every week on Nickelodeon and swooned, having no concept that the show I was watching was in fact as old as I thought he was. I watched as Davy got stars in his eyes just before he kissed a pretty lady and I wanted nothing more than for him to look at me that way. Between viewings of the show I would listen to my Monkees tape on my pink boombox and fantasize that I was sleepy Jean and Davy was my daydream believer. I was convinced that someday we would marry.
Apparently my parents never felt it necessary to tell me that in real life Davy was in fact older than the both of them. I can't tell you for sure when I figured it out. Slowly but surely Davy got inched out by Jordan Knight and The Monkees poster came down to be replaced by clippings of more current heartthrobs from Teen Beat.
Yet, my love for Davy Jones never truly died and when I learned that The Monkees would be touring this past summer I immediately notified my mum. Her response? "We have to go." Unbeknownst to her she had purchased VIP tickets that got us access to a meet and greet with none other than the love of my life, Davy Jones (oh, and the rest of the band). I did my best to feign nonchalance, but my inner five-year old was going nuts. What do you say when you meet your first celebrity crush? Naturally, you tell him and he says "thank you" like it's heard it a million times before, but you don't care because now you have a picture with him. It's as close as you'll ever get to any of those daydreams coming true.
