It can’t just be wealth and fame that make Justin Bieber so romantic. He’s 17, not a typical age for grand gestures of amour.
Last weekend, the singer from Stratford rented The Staples Center in Los Angeles so he and girlfriend Selena Gomez could watch a screening of the movie, Titanic, alone and without interruption. Selena is an older woman, you know, at the advanced age of 19. The Center’s management didn’t even charge The Beebs for this special night because he has made them so much dough by performing there and selling the place out.
It got me thinking about some of my dates early on, when I was in my teens and just getting to know some members of the opposite sex. There was no one as romantic as The Beebs at that age. I don’t think they existed. Like the bearded guy whose name escapes who took me to see Triumph in concert at Hamilton Place. Our seats were in front of an extended part of the stage and in the direct line of the massive speakers. We were the only couple there wearing dress pants and not jumping up and down yelling, “F-in’ right!” I got a close-up view of Rik Emmet’s assets in painted on, white spandex pants and if that wasn’t enough, when we went to leave, I couldn’t stand upright. The loud volume of the music affected my inner ear and threw off my equilibrium. To this day I can’t even go on a swing. Or into a store that sells spandex pants.
Then there was John, a farmer’s son who had to put chores ahead of any girl. That meant he was late for dates and invariably showed up with straw and some sort of animal doo-doo on his boots. At 17, even a guy who is polite and kind can’t catch a break if he’s leaving bits of cow dung behind when he walks.
But the best had to be Ray B. whose name I will withold except to say that it sounds like a communicable disease. He had a black car – a Delta 88? A Barracuda? I can’t remember. Anyway, he loved that thing and may in fact now be married to it. We went to the drive-in and he had barely explained the rules of popcorn eating within his precious vehicle, when it started to rain. The movie hadn’t even started yet. Without a word, Ray started the car and started for the exit. “Where are you going?”, I asked. “We’re out of here”, said Ray. “Don’t you know what rain on dust does to black paint?” He took me home and took his baby to his house to do whatever you do when rain hits dust. I assume he cried many tears that night. Over the car, of course.
Not one of those guys, or any other, did anything remotely as romantic as The Beebs did for Selena, even on a small scale. You go, Justin. You got all of the teen girls to fall in love with you and now you’re making their boyfriends look bad, just like Frank Sinatra, Donny Osmond and every other teen hearthrob who came before you.