It started when I was 11 years old. I was flipping through the very first Seventeen magazine my mom ever let me have (June 1996 — Liv Tyler was on the cover, if you must know) and I saw one of those “hot guy” features. You know those “hot guy” features: A collage of very different, but still traditionally attractive actors and musicians. Conventional wisdom says there has to be at least one that strikes your fancy if you are a girl with heterosexual inclinations. (Otherwise, you can spend more time on the Liv Tyler profile.)
Anyway, I remember flipping through it and not being particularly struck by Johnny Depp or Edward Furlong or Jakob Dylan. I mean, I got that they were cute. I understood that women wanted to date them. They just didn’t speak to tween me.
Then, I turned the page and spotted a young Brad Renfro. He had greasy, tawny hair parted down the middle and he had such a direct gaze, that I truly thought he was staring me down. I immediately felt my first ever rush of sexual desire and developed my first all-consuming celebrity crush. Keep reading »