The Kelly Conundrum

If you were coming up in the late 80s/early 90s, you may have noticed that the babest of babes had something in common; they were all named Kelly. I’ve never been able to explain this phenomenon. Seriously, think about it. Not only did we have smokin actresses like Kelly Le Brock, Kelly McGillis, and Kelly Preston; we were also prescribed a substantial dosage of bodacious Kelly characters at the hands of Hollywood. Back then, many of us were infatuated with the likes of Kelly Kapowski of Saved by the Bell or Kelly Taylor of 90210. The first memorable stirring in my undergarments can be attributed to Kelly Bundy of Married with Children. To top it all off, my most major childhood crush shared the same name. And why? I mean, the name itself doesn’t sound sexy–the more you say it, the more it sounds like a muppet or some kind of alien delicacy. Nevertheless, this particular moniker will always conjure images of beautiful girls from my youth.

It’s kind of a chicken vs egg scenario. Were all Kellys inherently attractive? Or did Hollywood brainwash us by employing a stock name for the babes it produced? It’s a mystery. I wish Robert Stack could have investigated this for me prior to his passing. Whatever the case, television certainly provided me with my first taste of infatuation. Obviously I was convinced it was love back then.

Saved by the Bell. Man, that show was so fucking good. That is to say, it was a great show for those who grew up with it. If you didn’t see it as a kid, don’t try to watch it as an adult–you won’t grasp its finer qualities. One of said qualities was the character Kelly Kapowski played by Tiffany Amber Thiessen. She was the most beautiful girl I had encountered in all my seven years. With her flowing brunette locks, doe eyes, and impeccable fashion sense, Kelly won my little heart. Oh how I envied Zack Morris for sweeping her off her feet. I dreamed of the day I might be lucky enough to meet Miss Kapowski in person. Yeah, yeah, I knew she was just a character; I wasn’t that delusional. I just knew that if she met me, I could make her my girlfriend.

I think I was in 2nd grade when I heard the news. My best friend Keith phoned to inform me that Tiffany Amber Thiessen and Mark-Paul Gosselaar were touring the country making mall appearances. Remember when going to the mall was a leisure activity? Anyway, Keith said the actors were coming to the Grand Avenue Mall in Milwaukee and that his mom already agreed to take him. He invited me to come as well. I don’t remember much else of that phone call because excitement caused my brain to momentarily short circuit. I think I managed to utter how I had to ask my mom before I lost most of my motor skills and dropped the phone. When I finally recovered, I rushed to the kitchen to seek approval.

Mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Perhaps it was her meat stuffed meatloaf with ketchup glaze, but I can’t be certain. I danced around her in joy as I incessantly sang out the word “mom” with an inflection that begged for her response. Annoyed, Mommy dearest finally inquired as to the source of my exuberance. As I gushed about my recent phone call, I noticed her brow slightly furrow. NO! No No NO! I knew what this meant: she was going to decline my proposal. Before Mom could say No, I began to provide reasons why she should let me go. But it wasn’t enough. I was shut down and instructed to call Keith with this final decision. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction! At the very least, I had to sulk and cry for a minimum of 45 minutes. That was childhood protocol for such matters.

Neither Keith nor his mother understood why I was forbidden from attending the trip. I couldn’t figure it out either, but I knew better than to dig deeper into the matter. Later in life I discovered that my parents thought that I was a little too girl-crazy for my age. Apparently they considered Keith to be the culprit for this predicament. Sorry Mom and Dad, but you were wrong. I had been appreciative of the opposite sex far before I met Keith. My first crush had been on the neighbor girl when I was around 4 or 5. Either way, I didn’t get to meet Kelly Kapowski that year and I was heartbroken at the time. But young hearts are fickle and I would soon move on to another Kelly.

It wasn’t that I lost interest in Kelly Kapowski or Saved by the Bell, it was just that they began to seem too innocent for my growing tastes. I needed something edgier and risqué. That’s when I discovered 90210 and my new love: Kelly Taylor as portrayed by Jennie Garth. Yeah, this was another show about high school kids in California, but it was more real. The show dealt with issues like pre-marital sex, drugs (none of that Saved by the Bell caffeine pill nonsense), suicide, rape, and many other issues that were definitely not appropriate for my 9 year old eyes. I wonder now why my parents allowed me to watch this program.

Kelly Taylor was a blonde bombshell. I plastered my room with images of her from the pages of Tiger Beat and other such publications. Of course, I was now mature enough to recognize that her name was actually Jennie–she was a part of the Kelly connection, all the same. During a school book fair, I found a celebrity address book. Back in those days, it was common to write fan letters as opposed to tweeting your thoughts. While perusing the book, I found it: Jennie Garth’s address! I don’t remember how I came up with the money to buy that book, but I got it. And then came the first in a series of letters to her from my pen.

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I remember in one particular letter, I discussed cryogenics. I had just seen a movie in which Mel Gibson had been frozen and then reanimated years later. This technology was my proposed solution to the age difference between Jennie and me. She was simply to use her celebrity money to freeze herself for about ten years or whenever I reached a suitable age to court her. Yeah, I was a little fucking weirdo, but at least I was a problem solver! Needless to say, I only received more of the same autographs in the mail. It was inevitable that this kind of treatment would lead to my loss of interest. In addition, I was getting older and realizing that my female classmates were doing the same. I was about to transition to a healthier, yet still unrealistic, crush on a classmate.

She came to our school in the middle of 6th grade. Every boy in class was smitten with the pretty new girl. Can you guess her name? If not, I have failed my readers. This new Kelly in my life skyrocketed to becoming the most popular girl in school in a matter of days. Everybody wanted to be her friend. Somehow, I became one. Truth be told, I had no friends when she arrived at the school. My weird personality had alienated me from my peers that had conformed to specific clique standards. Everybody fit into a group except me. Yup, I was that lonely kid reading X-men comics on the bench by myself at recess. This is how one can recruit “pity friends.” Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t intentionally trying to look pathetic; I just had nobody to hang out with. So what’s a popular new girl to do? Take me under her wing as a charity case, that’s what.

I wasn’t particularly proud of how this friendship developed, but I didn’t care. I got to kick it with the popular girls. Sure, I was more of a jester for their group than an actual friend, but whatever. By swallowing my pride in this matter, I actually reversed people’s opinions of me. I had an audience and they began to notice I was funny. So, what started as pity friendship turned into my full blown popularity by the time 8th grade rolled around. It was all thanks to Kelly.

In the years as Kelly’s friend, she became fully aware that I was crushin on her hard. I mean, it was insanely obvious. She played alto saxophone for the school band, so I decided I needed to as well. I was a year and a half behind in lessons, but I convinced my father to buy me a saxophone so I could join the band. I took private lessons with the band leader after school until I was caught up with the rest of my class. I actually got pretty fucking good! But despite that talent, I needed to sit next to Kelly in practice. I often placed into first chair, but would purposely curtail my abilities if I noticed she was a few chairs behind. It was my best opportunity to talk with my crush one on one. At one point during a practice I even worked up enough nerve to ask her out; to which she replied with a thinly veiled maybe.

Toward the end of 8th grade, my friendship with Kelly somewhat unraveled. I think her original mission was complete and she let me fly solo. The funny thing is that I flocked to people on the bottom of the popularity chain. I could still relate to them more than the athletes. Although this move dented my status, I still retained recognition as the class clown. I made friends with a fellow Kelly fan named Mike. He and I talked often of our infatuation with this girl. To the point that we even made a club called MILK which stood for “Man, I Like Kelly”. We would use ballpoint pen to ink our knuckles with this acronym. Yeah, I was a weird dude, but people seem to really enjoy me these days.

Needless to say, I never got a chance with Kelly. But Keith did. Yeah, Keith became the most popular guy in school and forgot about me. I could tell he missed being my friend sometimes though. I remember in 4th grade, he secretly handed me a G.I. Joe on the bus to school with a look in his eyes that said, “I miss you bud, but don’t you dare fucking tell anyone about this.” It made sense that he got to date Kelly though; he physically matured earlier than most and became muscular. Plus, he was the bad boy type. I was a pudgy baby face who was barely sprouting body hair–still am, really.
The closest I ever got to Kelly was slow dancing at our middle school graduation dance.

My mother divorced my stepfather the year I started my freshman year of high school. We moved about 10 minutes away, but I was transferred to a new school district. It was with this turning point, that my stories with Kellys come to an end. Sure, I met other Kellys in my life, but I think the name had begun to lose meaning for me. When I hear that name today, it just makes me nostalgic of a time long passed. But then again, what doesn’t do that for me?