Drooling Over The Reverse Lolitas Of High School Musical

Last week I wrote about my Cougar aspirations. In a break that epitomizes my short attention span, I must reveal that I have refocused my desires specifically toward the Wild Cats. Yes, Troy Bolton’s basketball team in the epic trilogy obsession of myself and many, many, many 9-year-olds, High School Musical.

Now, I watched the first two TV movies passively, quietly fantasizing about singing “Breaking Free” with a desired boy publicly (like, fling?), yielding the embarrassing iTunes purchase of “Breaking Free: the karaoke version.” But something truly ignited in me as I watched the conclusion--but first theatrical release--to the high school days of those crazy Cats.

I viewed this cinematic masterpiece Friday afternoon--opening day, if you will--with a housemate. We were easily the oldest people in the theater without children. We laughed, (she doesn’t know it, but I) cried (four times), and got turned on during a fantastical dance number, “The Boys are Back,” featuring Zac Efron and my future third husband and recent recipient of a bangin’-post-puberty body, Corbin Bleu.

Chad and Troy, from whom I would like tickets to that gun show, are effortlessly gritty with their flannel shirts and bandanas, goofy with their chic karate moves, and so homoerotic that I wanted them to pummel me to the ground, together. As the best friends mount and dismount each other in a Disney way, they fused my increasing tension between animalistic sexual predator and nostalgic wholesome little girl who just wants to go back to the days of Rainbow Bright lunchboxes, pigtails, and leopard print clogs rather than forward to graduation. There’s a little of that in all of us, right? So I’d like to thank HSM3 for the invaluable lesson with which I walked away as I avoided eye contact with myriad overzealous children: I could have my fruit snacks and fuck them too.

Next step: get “Now or Never” OUT OF MY HEAD.