Another Episode in Which I Realize I've Gotten Older

When I was in junior high school one of my favorite (and therefore short-lived) television dramas introduced me to what I later came to find out was a phenomenon known as "The Pretty Boy." Jared Leto's Jordan Catalano on My So-Called Life was swoon-worthy (think slightly-bad-shy-boy meets flawless olive skin). He was pretty before Robert Pattinson played Cedric Diggory, let alone that glittery Edward Cullen. He was pretty before Zac Efron got his head in the game. He was pretty at that perfect moment in life when hormones rage and there is no such thing as too much designer imposter perfume. Yes, Jared Leto stole my heart when I was 13 and at that young age I decided that there was little else better than the pretty boy. Except maybe Bonne Bell Lip Smackers. And Exclamation! perfume. And my Caboodle.

Scroll forward on my life's timeline and things have changed dramatically. I prefer chapstick to Lip Smackers. I find a subtle spritz of something scented in the morning hours to be sufficient for the day. And as I sat on my couch at 11 PM thinking how I ought to remove my derrier from its current location, I flipped from Jay Leno over to David Letterman. On one channel sat Matthew Fox, on the other, Eric Bana. Lovely gentlemen, both. And though I didn't really care what either had to say, necessarily, I couldn't help but think, "When was it, exactly, that I evolved from my preference for the pretty boy to my desire for the manly man?" Now, both of these men are pretty, I'll give them that. But my 13-year-old self would have shivered had you called them attractive, just as 13-year-old-me did when my mom informed me that Kevin Costner was, "one hot number" (by the way Mom, I agree full-heartedly). You see, these were men, not pretty boy-men, but Men-men. Men with greying temples and rough, rogue-ish facial hair and...metrosexual designer suits?  (Okay, omit that last one from your memories.)  

This realization first started happening while watching (and wasting $8.00 on) 17 Again the other weekend. Zac Efron had a certain appeal in the (lame-ish) movie--I will admit this.  But I felt wrong and dirty-old-womanish in thinking so. Legal or not, the boy is a wee BOY for crying out loud!  

Yes, it is true.  I've gotten older, more mature.  Healthy and normal, I know, this attraction to people within my designated legal age group.  I just don't really remember when, exactly, this all happened.

Somewhere along the way I've grown from liking this boyishness:

to feeling a bit hot and bothered whenever this man graces my screen:

*Oh, Javier, please grace my screen again. Penelope who?