This is a story about a boy named S (using only initials for this one, so not to embarrass anyone I mention), who I had a crush on all 4 years of high school (and then he continued to haunt my dreams for another decade after that.) His lasting hold over me was about as long as this damn song.
I don’t love that I’m writing about the song. I wouldn’t say I particularly hate it. I mean, I have sung it at karaoke a few times before. This is fairly far out of the realm of my music taste, though.
But S loved this song, and at the time, I tried to love it too. And it will always make me think of him.
S was short and beefy, with copper-toned red hair, an adorable face, and he had these freckles on his arms that were so cute. He was a jock, playing football all throughout high school, but he was also crazy intelligent, being my classmate in all of the honors classes I was in. Athletic and smart?? This rare combo had me swooning. He also just dripped with masculinity. Maybe the pheromones got me hooked too.
He was really into classic rock. I honestly could’ve picked some other songs he liked, like REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling,” which would’ve matched how I felt back then. Or shit, anything by Tom Petty, or Boston. But since this Meatloaf song came out when we were actually in high school, it seemed more appropriate.
I thought it was a little odd he liked this song so much, as theatrical and musical-esque it is. But it didn’t matter to him. I remember specifically he liked the female near the end singing “Will you hose me down with holy water, if I get too hot?” Of course he did.
Honestly, back then, I would’ve done anything for love. Look, straight people have it easy. They can flirt with someone they’re attracted to and there’s a 90 percent chance they’re also straight (or bi) too. When gays and lesbians are attracted to someone and want to let them know, they’re rolling the dice, barring places and situations where the demographic is primarily LGBTQ+.
Back then, most of us gays didn’t come out until after high school, sometimes way after. And we wouldn’t dream of hitting on or professing our feelings to the classmates we were attracted to. (Although, one of my later boyfriends told me he got to fuck half of his high school wrestling team. He might’ve been full of shit but man that made me jealous.)
I think after we all graduated I found out there were 3 or 4 of us in our 1995 class that came out as gay or lesbian, although I’m not really sure I remember who. And only one of them was obvious before that. He was a guy named R and, I wouldn’t say he was flamboyant, but just little mannerisms and the way he spoke clued us all in. Plus he wrote and performed in his own play for the school that was all about AIDS and it had R.E.M.’s “Everybody Hurts” playing during one of the scenes. Like, come on, we knew.
Anyway, the 10 percent odds wouldn’t have mattered with S. He was very clearly straight. He flirted with and dated girls. Also, you know, FOOTBALL. And he would say stuff that was painfully straight. I remember one time in art class the teacher was playing the radio and Depeche Mode’s “People Are People” came on. When he heard the line “I can’t understand, what makes a man…” he felt the need to say “I’ll show you what makes a man” as he grabbed his nuts. I mean, at the time I thought it was really hot. But watch me eye-roll about that shit now. Like, aside from completely ignoring the next line of the song “…hate another man?” The toxic-masculinity showboating was just so cringe.
Being around S made me feel so small, unsure and insecure. I mean, MORE insecure than my usual self back then. Meatloaf as The Beast/Phantom Of The Opera in this video, while longing to love the beautiful woman in his castle; that’s very relatable to how I felt then. I was a good looking kid, no lie. But I could never see it that way. And my basis for that negative view was rooted in thinking that the boys I was attracted to were never going to want me that way. Not really a fair self-criticism because the lack of attraction had nothing to do with my actual looks; I was just the wrong gender. But man it made me feel ugly and undeserving of love, especially from someone I found to be so beautiful. That kind of thinking took forever to overcome.
All the same, as the years of high school went on, I became more and more obsessed with him. And there wasn’t anyone I could talk to about it. I had to go through that 4-year emotional rollercoaster all on my own. Junior year was definitely the worst. I would get so nervous and excited when I heard his voice or knew he was nearby. Lots of masturbatory fantasizing, obviously. Also I was pretending my pillow was his face and kissing it like I wished to kiss him.
One cringy moment happened one day in the library, when we were supposed to be studying but were actually just dicking around. I joined S and some other kids (can’t remember who) in one of the tucked away corners of the library, where no teachers were nearby. They started playing the knockout game, if that’s what it’s even called. You know, one person puts their hands on their knees and takes 10 really deep breaths. They hold the last breath and stand upright, while another person squeezes the sides of their neck to cut off circulation, and it knocks the person out, until a few seconds later when they come to.
If I’m being honest I always loved that feeling when you’re about to lose consciousness and you feel your muscles relax in a euphoric way. These days I just get that experience from being old and standing up too fast.
I saw S do it to another classmate, his thick jock-y hands around their neck. I promise, I’m not into choking (not that there’s anything wrong with that.) But if the guy is hot enough I could suddenly do anything for love, right? I convinced S to do it to me next, and before blacking out I remember I was so excited he was even touching me, let alone gripping me with a manly grip. Then I came to on the floor, and he gave me his hand to pull me up. A true gentleman, and he touched me again. I honestly don’t know how I didn’t jizz my pants, as the over-excited ball of teenage hormones I was.
But the cringiest thing was after my dad gave me their old ‘86 Dodge Caravan to drive. I hate to admit it but I drove by his house A LOT. It wasn’t even near my house, or the school, so I would come up with excuses to drive all the way over to his street. I was praying that one of those times I drove by I would see him cutting the front lawn with his shirt off.
It wasn’t enough for me. I wanted to be closer to him. So how could I get closer to a guy I had a crush on without actually trying to date him? My solution was trying to become a closer friend to him. Which, in hindsight, was pretty ridiculous, yet I’m sure a lot of people can relate. (Isn’t that a teenage movie trope?) Other than our one honors class we had together, we didn’t have a lot of the same interests. But it didn’t stop me.
I would try to engage him more in conversations about our classwork, but also I’m sure I asked him a lot about music because that’s one thing I could talk to anyone about. Which is why I knew he was into those rock bands. But it wasn’t really getting me anywhere. I was forcing it a bit and talking to me was certainly not a priority for him.
There was also this girl in our class named T, and they talked and heavily flirted a ton. I remember one day they were having a conversation that was something like him saying “Man I wish an orgasm would last for an hour” and her responding “Or an orgasm that never ended, oh my god.” Their faces when having this conversation and looking at each other… I don’t think they actually ever fucked but they should’ve. (S had a serious girlfriend not long after that and he was very loyal to her. Another charming thing about that little fucker.)
Now let me preface this part by saying I actually really liked T. I thought she was so cool. She was captain of the drill team and she would show me these choreographed dances they did to some GREAT songs. A lot of R&B and Hip-Hop, which, as I wrote in my last post, was definitely my thing. I’d say we were friends.
But watching the two of them interact, I would get really jealous. It’s weird, I’ve rarely ever been the jealous type as an adult. Not with most of my boyfriends and certainly not with my husband. It’s a toxic emotion I have no need for. I suppose a teenager with raging hormones who also happened to be a hopeless romantic that wanted what he saw in the movies… couldn’t help feeling some jealousy.
There was one time in class when we were watching a movie, with the lights off. T had just gotten brand new glasses and she was excited to show everyone. S asked her to pass them over to him so he could check them out. I then asked T if I could see them too. S passed them over to me.
And there, in the dark, a side of me came out that was kind of scary. I couldn’t tell you what I was thinking in that moment; I entered a tunnel vision state of envy. I took her new glasses in my hands and twisted the frames to hell, breaking them. And then I passed them back with little remorse.
They got back to T and she stook up and yelled “Jason! Why would you do this to my glasses??” All I could think to say was “I don’t know.” The look on her face wasn’t angry as much as betrayed and shocked that I would do something like that. She was my friend and I just fucked her over. I was supposed to be the nice, quiet kid. I guess I really did turn into a “beast” in that moment. I didn’t deserve to be in the company of such beautiful people (T was really good looking as well, incidentally.)
If I remember right, my dad had to pay her parents to replace the glasses. He was definitely not happy about that. And I’m sure I apologized to T, but I’m not sure it was sincere. If I ever talk to her again I want to make a proper apology to her, even though I’m sure she hardly cares or remembers anymore.
Later on, after pressuring him a lot, S finally invited me to come hang out at his house to study. I was so nervous but I was ready. We were down in his basement; the rest of his family was busy upstairs. We studied a little bit, and then we put the books down and he started playing me a lot of music on his stereo. We listened to all the stuff I mentioned above: a lot of Tom Petty, a bit of Boston I think, definitely REO Speedwagon, because he played “Can’t Fight This Feeling” and I borderline wanted to profess my feelings to him in that moment.
Then he played the Meatloaf song. Before that moment I hated it, I mean, maybe I just hated the beginning because I always turned the dial/channel when it came on. That opening piano was so annoying to me, and I thought the length of the song was ridiculous. Which is kind of crazy, because just two years before I was in love with Guns N’ Roses' “November Rain,” which is also super long, has a lot of piano, has a rock opera-ish vibe, and almost the same format. I was a pretty good piano player back then and I even learned to play “November Rain.”
I wasn’t talented enough to play that piano intro on “I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)”, it was too fast and intricate. Maybe that’s why I hated it, because I couldn’t play it.
But sitting there with S, listening far more intently because he was into it, I could see the appeal. Although I remember saying to him “What does he mean by ‘that’?? Why doesn’t he just say?” S said at the time the lyric meant he would never cheat on her. FUN FACT! I looked this confusing lyric up while I was writing this, because it was a common criticism of the song. Meatloaf finally said in an interview the “that” was the thing in the line before that he said he’d never do. For instance: “But I’ll never forget the way you feel right now…” that is the “that.” Like how dumb are we that didn’t see this obvious explanation?
I still didn’t love the song after that listen, but like the REO Speedwagon song, this song also made me want to profess my love to him in that moment. I knew it didn’t make sense, but I wanted it anyway. Fortunately I was too chicken-shit to even try that. I dodged a bullet for sure (maybe a literal one??)
After that I don’t really remember how we interacted with each other, I’m guessing probably not a whole lot. I’m sure my mild clinginess was off-putting to him. And senior year we were both busy buckling down to get ready for college, and I was finally able to reinvent myself a bit that year right before I graduated (that’s a story for a different entry.)
Speaking of, after graduating and coming out of the closet, I felt compelled to explain my high school behavior to him. I nervously called him and told him very transparently I had a crush on him, and that’s why I tried so hard to be friends with him, etc. I remember hearing him on the other end, just repeating the same monotone “uh huh” to make it clear he wanted nothing to do with it. I said my piece, and got off the phone. It was so painfully awkward though, and made me feel even worse.
I only saw him once after that, working at a store in the mall. He never saw me; I just happened to see him through the glass as I walked by the store. He had lost his hair, but he still looked really good. I just shrugged and walked away with a forlorn sigh.
The most annoying part about all of this was that I would have random dreams about him for another 10 years or so after high school, and they were never good or fun. Kind of like how a recovered addict will still dream about getting high for years after. I can’t believe he affected me that much. I remember feeling so relieved when those awkward dreams finally stopped.
This many years later, I’ve come to at least appreciate this song. I love some theatrics, I love the video… I guess I love the talent of the song, far more than the song itself. I also love that Celine song that was the same style. Ridiculously long songs can be a lot of fun.
Still, even though I no longer dream about him, I can’t help but think of him when I hear this song. It puts a smile on my face, which has little to do with him, but remembering the young, insecure me who just wanted some attention from the boys he was attracted to. I wish I could go back in time and tell my younger self the worn but true cliché “It gets better.”
I wonder where S wound up. I think I’m too embarrassed to ever talk to him again, not that he would want to anyway. But still, I can’t help but wonder a bit. I kind of hope he’s ugly now. But I’m sure he’s not.
