Sleeping with Celebs
I found myself in the enviable position of sitting between the Landers sisters. Not the old ones that give advice, the sexy ones. Audrey's star was already rising due to a plum role in a Lifesavers commercial. Soon, she would be cast as a regular on the T.V. show “Dallas”. Judy was to my right. She was stretched out on a green lounge chair wearing a bright orange bikini. Audrey was on my left sitting under an umbrella in a one piece. It was 1975, and I was at the Diplomat Hotel in Pompano Beach Florida, visiting my grandparents. It was my first trip away from home and within hours of landing in Florida I was sitting next to an actual TV personality.
Judy was also in junior high school and dreamed of a spot on the U.S. Olympic gymnastic team. She was the first girl I ever met in person with a sex symbol body. She told me about her gymnastic routine doing the occasional demonstration that could only make me even more aware of how amazingly well built she was for a fifteen year old. I remember another guy on the beach, Mark from Great Neck telling me that when we were older we would find all 20-year-old women would have bodies like that. Mark was proven wrong 5 years later.
In 1975 Judy and I were the same age, fifteen, though according to a recent article in “People” magazine, she is now six years younger than I am. Of course, I developed a schoolboy crush on her even before I know she could defy the laws of space and time.
For several years she and I exchanged letters though we never had another face-to-face meeting. Spurred on by her sister's success on TV, Judy's interest in acting increased, her attraction to the uneven bars plummeted. She had an easy entree into the offices of agents and casting directors familiar with Audrey. It made Judy’s transition from a flexible, tumbling high schooler to a bouncy semi-star was an easy one.
It was around that time that we totally lost contact. Over the years I would see Judy and Audrey on TV. They would be taking a cruise on the Love Boat, one would be playing a bombshell, and the other one would be playing ...well, a bombshell too. Often they were cast as bombshell sisters. Sometimes, while scanning titles at the video store, I would spot some B-grade features starring Judy. The plots usually involved any excuse to put her in a nurse's/sailor's/stewardess' uniform that was a bit too tight, thus revealing her cleavage, and just short enough to expose her garters and stockings. I never rented one.
I admit, I took a look at the sisters pictorial they did for Playboy a few years ago while standing at a newsstand, though I didn't buy it. Today, the sibling sexpots have a kid's show. I have often wondered, what if Judy and I had messed around? You know, vacation, sun, sand, and... .Now that would have been a good story! Alas, we never did, and that story, much like the Landers sisters, is a bust.
Though the Landers Sisters are just schoolboy memories now, the thought of dating a beautiful celebrity lingers.
A year or two ago, I was watching the TV show “Friends” with my crash-and-burn romance of the month. Two of the characters had drawn up lists of celebrities that they could each sleep with, repercussion free, if they ever got the chance. Having earlier heard the Landers sisters story, my date asked me, if the opportunity presented itself today, would I make a play for Judy? I had to admit that while the idea was still appealing, my tastes had changed since I was sixteen. We then decided that we would each choose a celebrity we could sleep with, guilt free, if the occasion arose. I immediately chose Ellen Barkin. A Thinking Man's sex symbol, I told myself. My girlfriend wanted Jeff Goldblum. Yet, she also insisted that if given the chance, she would put the moves on Vanessa Williams. I visualized that scenario for a moment or two, or three, and emphatically stated that I had no objections. Then I visualized some more. The thought of Venessa with my girlfriend made me realize I might be missing out on something really good so I wanted Vanessa on my list too. That way we would both have two people. It only seemed fair that we would have the same number. “Friends” done, I started flipping channels and found a rerun of “The Fresh Prince of Bel Air”. That Hillary Banks was rather attractive, I thought that I should add her to my list. I actually believed Vanessa to be the better-looking women, and she also had the added prestige of being the only Miss America to have been dethroned. I thought about the odds of meeting Vanessa versus the odds of meeting Hillary. I pictured Vanessa traveling all around the world, making movies, singing, and dancing. Hillary, being a sitcom type, might stick closer to L.A. I played the averages over and over again. Ellen and Vanessa, Ellen and Hillary. The logical conclusion was that my chances were better with Hillary. Hillary it was. I signed off on my list. There was no turning back. Then, one blustery evening a few moths later, a woman walked directly into me while I was standing on Main Street, between Ocean and Second, in Santa Monica. I looked up and saw Ellen Barkin's face half a foot from mine. Clearly, if you hang out long enough, dreams can come true in the wonder of Los Angeles. It was my once in a lifetime opportunity to sleep with Ellen Barkin.
"You know, I was just talking about you with a friend," might have been a good opening line. Or maybe, “It’s the damnedest thing, but it really would be okay if I slept with you." That surely would have either opened up or slammed shut a conversation.
"Excuse me," would have been appropriate from either one of us. None of these lines were uttered. I froze. It really was Ellen Barkin! That crooked mouth. It was within kissing distance. She got her bearings much quicker than I did, and moved on. My dream of a close encounter of the romantic kind with her consisted of momentary breast contact with my leather jacket, and a brief look into her eyes.
Fast-forward several months. I'm sipping tea with a date at one of L.A.'s finer eateries. Just one table away I see Karyn Parsons. Miss Hillary Banks, in the flesh. Seeing her in person confirms that she is the freshest princess in all of Bel Air. All traces of the vulgar Valley Girl accent she used on the show are happily absent. Her hair was now in its natural state rather than processed, as it was on the show. I couldn't help but notice her every move. At one point she jumped up from her seat to inform a passerby that something had fallen from his wallet. Beautiful and courteous! It was too perfect.
I begin explaining to my date, in hushed tones, the arrangement between my former girlfriend and me. Since it hadn’t worked out with Ellen Barkin Karyn catapulted to the top of my list.
There was a problem though, my date hadn’t had the opportunity to draw up a list of her own. We had no such agreement.
While we are discussing this, the waiter brought Karyn her check. I watched as she pulls out a twenty. Time was running out. I started throwing out names, "Brad Pitt. Leoardo DiCaprio. Billy D. Williams. Didn't you think he was great as Lando Calresian? Make a list! Make a list! Pick one, pick two! " Karyn collects her change, leaves a tip, and heads for the door. My second once-in-a-lifetime chance, gone.
Judy was also in junior high school and dreamed of a spot on the U.S. Olympic gymnastic team. She was the first girl I ever met in person with a sex symbol body. She told me about her gymnastic routine doing the occasional demonstration that could only make me even more aware of how amazingly well built she was for a fifteen year old. I remember another guy on the beach, Mark from Great Neck telling me that when we were older we would find all 20-year-old women would have bodies like that. Mark was proven wrong 5 years later.
In 1975 Judy and I were the same age, fifteen, though according to a recent article in “People” magazine, she is now six years younger than I am. Of course, I developed a schoolboy crush on her even before I know she could defy the laws of space and time.
For several years she and I exchanged letters though we never had another face-to-face meeting. Spurred on by her sister's success on TV, Judy's interest in acting increased, her attraction to the uneven bars plummeted. She had an easy entree into the offices of agents and casting directors familiar with Audrey. It made Judy’s transition from a flexible, tumbling high schooler to a bouncy semi-star was an easy one.
It was around that time that we totally lost contact. Over the years I would see Judy and Audrey on TV. They would be taking a cruise on the Love Boat, one would be playing a bombshell, and the other one would be playing ...well, a bombshell too. Often they were cast as bombshell sisters. Sometimes, while scanning titles at the video store, I would spot some B-grade features starring Judy. The plots usually involved any excuse to put her in a nurse's/sailor's/stewardess' uniform that was a bit too tight, thus revealing her cleavage, and just short enough to expose her garters and stockings. I never rented one.
I admit, I took a look at the sisters pictorial they did for Playboy a few years ago while standing at a newsstand, though I didn't buy it. Today, the sibling sexpots have a kid's show. I have often wondered, what if Judy and I had messed around? You know, vacation, sun, sand, and... .Now that would have been a good story! Alas, we never did, and that story, much like the Landers sisters, is a bust.
Though the Landers Sisters are just schoolboy memories now, the thought of dating a beautiful celebrity lingers.
A year or two ago, I was watching the TV show “Friends” with my crash-and-burn romance of the month. Two of the characters had drawn up lists of celebrities that they could each sleep with, repercussion free, if they ever got the chance. Having earlier heard the Landers sisters story, my date asked me, if the opportunity presented itself today, would I make a play for Judy? I had to admit that while the idea was still appealing, my tastes had changed since I was sixteen. We then decided that we would each choose a celebrity we could sleep with, guilt free, if the occasion arose. I immediately chose Ellen Barkin. A Thinking Man's sex symbol, I told myself. My girlfriend wanted Jeff Goldblum. Yet, she also insisted that if given the chance, she would put the moves on Vanessa Williams. I visualized that scenario for a moment or two, or three, and emphatically stated that I had no objections. Then I visualized some more. The thought of Venessa with my girlfriend made me realize I might be missing out on something really good so I wanted Vanessa on my list too. That way we would both have two people. It only seemed fair that we would have the same number. “Friends” done, I started flipping channels and found a rerun of “The Fresh Prince of Bel Air”. That Hillary Banks was rather attractive, I thought that I should add her to my list. I actually believed Vanessa to be the better-looking women, and she also had the added prestige of being the only Miss America to have been dethroned. I thought about the odds of meeting Vanessa versus the odds of meeting Hillary. I pictured Vanessa traveling all around the world, making movies, singing, and dancing. Hillary, being a sitcom type, might stick closer to L.A. I played the averages over and over again. Ellen and Vanessa, Ellen and Hillary. The logical conclusion was that my chances were better with Hillary. Hillary it was. I signed off on my list. There was no turning back. Then, one blustery evening a few moths later, a woman walked directly into me while I was standing on Main Street, between Ocean and Second, in Santa Monica. I looked up and saw Ellen Barkin's face half a foot from mine. Clearly, if you hang out long enough, dreams can come true in the wonder of Los Angeles. It was my once in a lifetime opportunity to sleep with Ellen Barkin.
"You know, I was just talking about you with a friend," might have been a good opening line. Or maybe, “It’s the damnedest thing, but it really would be okay if I slept with you." That surely would have either opened up or slammed shut a conversation.
"Excuse me," would have been appropriate from either one of us. None of these lines were uttered. I froze. It really was Ellen Barkin! That crooked mouth. It was within kissing distance. She got her bearings much quicker than I did, and moved on. My dream of a close encounter of the romantic kind with her consisted of momentary breast contact with my leather jacket, and a brief look into her eyes.
Fast-forward several months. I'm sipping tea with a date at one of L.A.'s finer eateries. Just one table away I see Karyn Parsons. Miss Hillary Banks, in the flesh. Seeing her in person confirms that she is the freshest princess in all of Bel Air. All traces of the vulgar Valley Girl accent she used on the show are happily absent. Her hair was now in its natural state rather than processed, as it was on the show. I couldn't help but notice her every move. At one point she jumped up from her seat to inform a passerby that something had fallen from his wallet. Beautiful and courteous! It was too perfect.
I begin explaining to my date, in hushed tones, the arrangement between my former girlfriend and me. Since it hadn’t worked out with Ellen Barkin Karyn catapulted to the top of my list.
There was a problem though, my date hadn’t had the opportunity to draw up a list of her own. We had no such agreement.
While we are discussing this, the waiter brought Karyn her check. I watched as she pulls out a twenty. Time was running out. I started throwing out names, "Brad Pitt. Leoardo DiCaprio. Billy D. Williams. Didn't you think he was great as Lando Calresian? Make a list! Make a list! Pick one, pick two! " Karyn collects her change, leaves a tip, and heads for the door. My second once-in-a-lifetime chance, gone.