One of the most famous photos in the world is Marilyn Monroe's famous skirt blowing scene from the movie "The Seven Year Itch." Hey folks, I'm about as gay as a gay man can be but I have to tell you looking at this photo of Marilyn stirs up "something" deep within the recesses of my id. Maybe I was straight in a previous life. God, can you imagine that? Ron straight with a wifey-poo and a passel of screaming, whining kids? I can't.
I am so glad I grew up in the Fifties. I feel sorry for young movie goers today. Who do they have as their iconic images? Jo-Lo? Mariah? Or pouty mouth Scarlett Johannson? Give me a break. You guys don't know what a real sex symbol is.
Most people can remember where they were when a historic event happened in their life. How many of you can remember where you were when you heard that Marilyn died? I remember exactly where I was. I was in the Army, home for the weekend. I had brought a friend with me who I had the hots for (he didn't know it). I did succeed in getting him to sleep in the same bed with me that Saturday night. I was so hot for him that I had an orgasm just by lying next to him (he was asleep thank God! How would I EVER have explained that?)
The day was August 5, 1962. I remember when I heard the news on my transistor radio (transistor radios being a big deal back in the early Sixties, probably the equivalent of an iPhone today). At first I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Surely this was a joke. A cruel joke. Marilyn dead? Couldn't be. She was only 36 years old. But the more I listened, it began to sink in that Marilyn had indeed died.
When I heard this news I felt like a part of me died too. I discussed her death with my Army buddy who I was hot for but he wasn't much interested. We really didn't have much in common other than I thought he was just about the cutest guy with so much energy. He was adorable. Unfortunately or fortunately he didn't feel the same way about me. My God if he did and we descended into some kind of licentious sexual escapade we both would have lost our clearances and been kicked out of the Army.
The reason Marilyn comes to my mind again is that I'm reading a biography of Billy Wilder now. Billy Wilder was the director of the movies "The Seven Year Itch." Reading about him directing the movie and his interaction with Marilyn brought back fond memories from my adolescence. Since I'm on a downward spiral now (soon to be 71 years old), I often think of good memories like Marilyn.
Ironically, about two months ago I was wondering what became of my little Army buddy that I had the hots for who slept with me overnight that August night in 1962. I saw his obituary. He died in last year. He died in a head on collision. The newspaper said he must have been going a great speed as he was passing on a solid white line because there "wasn't much left of his car or him." Oh David. So sad.