I was desperate.

I needed music. I craved it. To be specific, I had to hear Garbage’s Version 2.0 album. As I’m living with my parents temporarily until my apartment is ready for move in, and my own CD collection/mp3 player were safely boxed away, I had little selection. My morning was timed out down to the second, and I had six minutes and fifteen seconds before I crossed over into Officially Late territory for showering.

I found my brother’s copy of the aforementioned Garbage CD. Unfortunately, he kept the jewel case but lost the CD. What a surprise. Anxiously I sorted through the rest of his CD collection. Very sad, indeed. I felt I had a better chance of finding something worth listening to in my parents’ music collection, which consist of a few CDs and several cassette tapes.

Alright. I can do retro. I hurried through the tapes. Empty boxes, everywhere! I looked at my cell phone in desperation. Two minutes left. I leaned into the far corner of the shelf, and pulled out a dusty cassette tape. My heart raced. I felt myself tense. Nervously, I looked behind my shoulder. Do I dare? Would anyone know?

Time was not on my side. I gripped the tape and ran back upstairs. In the bathroom, I pushed the open button on the tape deck, a small stereo I’d brought out of storage for use. I slid the tape inside, and hit rewind. I waited. And waited. And waited. Turned the showerhead on. I got out my towel. Remember folks: we used to wait to hear our music. Finally, I heard a hard “click.” I turned up the volume, pushed play, and stepped in the shower.

Oh oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh oh, the right stuff.

Yes. You know what it is. I bet even as you’re reading this you’re starting to sing along.

You got the right stuff, baby  / (love the way you turn me on) / You got the right stuff, darlin’  / (you’re the reason why I sing this song)

This was the moment when I couldn’t take it anymore. Yes, it’s been a couple of decades. Yes, it’s beyond shameful. And yes, I remembered every single word. I broke out singing along in the shower.

All that I needed was you / in my life / you’re so right / and all that I wanted was you / you made all / (every one of my dreams come true)

The New Kids on the Block. *sigh*

They broke my boy band cherry when I was nine years old. Naughty boys. I remember desperately crushing on Joey (far left in picture). I too wanted to wear a hat with the top cut off so my hair showed through. I also wanted to rip my jeans at the knee and add a smiley face ala Debbie Gibson, but my mom wouldn’t allow it. So I satisfied myself with sleeping on an NKOTB pillow and watching my New Kids “Hangin’ Tough” VHS concert tape with my friends until it wore out.

I even talked my Dad into ordering another concert on PayPerView. I had a slumber party and watched it with my friends. We held our own pre-concert show in our basement, using hair brushes as microphones and arguing over who got to be Joey (totally tubular!) and who had to be Danny (he’s so hot–NOT! Ew, he has cooties. And he looks like a monkey).

When the concert finally aired, we were stunned to find that Joey’s falsetto had disappeared. They didn’t sound like their tape at all! They hit notes that made us cringe, and they were all sweaty and gross.

My dad pulled me aside to give me the facts of life talk. He explained that as boys get older, their voices change. And also, the New Kids lip synch.  Which is why their live concert differed from my well-worn “pre-recorded” concert tape.

I was devastated for a day or two, but quickly rebounded, as children tend to do. It became embarrassing to be an NKOTB fan. So, my tired cassette tape found its way into the storage room. I moved on to different boy bands–Boyz II Men, Backstreet Boys, N*Sync–with my partner in crime, Cici, but one can never forget her first true love. Deep in my heart, beyond the shame and the age, was a little girl wishing to sing along to “You Got It (The Right Stuff)” again. You know, the classics.

So somehow, someway, the tape found its way out to my car. And I happily sing along with it on my way to work in the morning (except, obviously, when I’m stopped at a red light. I turn the volume way down at that time. I’m not fully prepared to air my shame to the whole, immediate world yet).