Day 356: My Secret Love for the New Kids on the Block

Well, it's here. It's a subject I have been keeping from all of you for some time now. I put out a poll many months ago when I was still deep in the heart of Alaska about several subject ideas that I had conjured up one Saturday morning over several cups of coffee. And this is the one that got the most votes. Embarrassing stories are always the best and this one defined part of my childhood and really the rest of my life. Growing up with four sisters and two moms, a young boy is forced one way or another to experience the emasculate side of life. Without any contrasting manly views to shape my psyche, my interests gravitated or, at least, succumb to the entertainment of my sisters and mother. New Kids on the Block was is the shining example that I denied for years.

The fascination stemmed from a concert VHS tape that my sister owned. She watched it a lot on the only tv in the apartment, and, thus, I watched it a lot. Despite my preternatural instinct to deny anything that my sister enjoyed, I could not help but be drawn into the opening scene when the boys are in the hallway backstage. It is black and white. The humming roar of the crowd can be heard in the distance. All five of them: Donny, Danny, Joey, Jonathon, and Jordan are mentally preparing themselves, fedoras in hand. "Are-are-are you ready for showtime?" the DJ spins out. In slow motion, the boys are making their way towards the stage. Meanwhile, I'm in the back of our apartment I was ready with my Batman shirt on and little microphone in my hand, waiting for the cue. "I can't hear you," the DJ shouts. "Are you-are you-are you ready for showtime?" the high pitched voice squeals with masterful digital effects. My palms start to sweat. My head starts to nod. "The five hottest working kids in show business..." Make that six, I tell myself. The snare drum beats kick: da-du-da-du-da-du-da-du-da, the scenes flash back and forth with the crowd of a half-million screaming girls, the boys are jumping up in down, my knees are bouncing, my feet on their toes... "Let-let-let-leeeet's hear it...for The New Kids on the Block!!!" All five of them run onto the stage, clapping their hands high in the air, and Jordan takes the mic in his Batman leather jacket. I spring out into the living room, swinging my arms to the music with the tiny mic in my hand. "Let's do it!" Jordan says, and the boys open up the concert with My Favorite Girl. "Oh, oh, oh, she's my favorite girl."

I don't remember acting out the entirety of the concert. Four-year-olds get bored rather quickly. But I remember dancing to a couple of my favorites like Hanging Tough and The Right Stuff. I mean, how can you not just get that funky feeling inside when you hear that methodic, "Oh, oh, OH, Oh, oh / Oh, oh...OH, oh / Oh, oh, OH, Oh, oh / The right stuff," and the boys flare their legs out side to side in some odd tetter-tottering kind of dance I still can't get quite right.

Now, I couldn't agree with all the lyrics because girls were gross, of course. They had cooties and were weird. But my secret attraction to the boy band was because of the thousands of girls that were desperately obsessed with them. They were on the cover of magazines and girls hung their posters on their walls. I knew I wanted that when I grew up. Patiently, I am still waiting for those glory days.

Out of the five heartthrobs, I identified with Jordan Knight the most. I'm not sure why exactly; it's probably because he wore a Batman leather jacket. I still have his action figure somewhere, buried beneath countless Ninja Turtles. But having a Jordan doll was a way for my "guys" to intermingle with the (almost always naked) Barbies that my sisters played with. That part of my childhood adventures didn't last long because my sisters didn't like their Barbies always being naked or swung around by their hair. Such is life. As I grew older, unfortunately Jordan had to take a back seat on the main stage of my action hero fantasies. For one, I didn't want my friends to see that I had a New Kids action figure. And two, his legs were broken off, dangling inside of his tight jeans, and I could not get them back on. Such is life.

Anyways, there you have it. My deepest, darkest secret is revealed to the world. While we are at it, I might as well tell everyone that I enjoy several chic-flick movies (not the Hallmark ones) and I find conversations about sports an endlessly tiresome and boring endeavor. Unless you want to talk about ping-pong or badminton, then I'm game.

I give all the kudos and props to the New Kids on the Block. They laid the foundation of fame for those 90's and 2000's groups that I despised so much. Groups like N'Sync, Boys-to-Men, Backstreet Boys, and 98 Degrees. Deep down, I can appreciate some of the catchy songs by these groups, but I still grew up in a world where they were competing for spots on TRL against Limp Bizkit, Korn, and Blink-182. So, screw all the boy bands and may they peacefully sing and dance in hell. For me, I'll still be hanging tough.

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Photo credit to Dawn McCullough