When I was a child, I lusted after Doc Brown.
I used to write my name as “Mrs. Emmett Brown” on notebooks.
My mother thought it was f’ing weird. My classmates gave me strange looks.
I mean, it wasn’t Christopher Lloyd that I was jonesin’ for.
There was just something about that wild white hair and manic eyes. I swooned after his near autistic dedication to science and inability to interact with anyone socially.
And that car!
Yep, Doc Brown could get my motor up to 88 miles per hour (weak).
But as time went on and puberty set in, my appetite towards Doc changed and my interest started to fall towards another.
Someone equally as brilliant and likely to have Asperger’s, but yet more refined. Like a fine Merlot.
With that strong jaw line, beautiful laugh, and amazing part in his hair- George McFly quickly won over my affections.
Why didn’t I see it when I was younger!? This man is beautiful!
My interest in George began to deepen and deepen. The pangs of desire would keep me up at night. It was getting serious. How I longed to hear the words, “Lauren, you are my den-sity!”
Eventually, the crush leaked over into real life where I made it a life-long mission to see every Crispin Glover movie. I bought his record “The Big Problem Does Not Equal the Solution, The Solution Equals Let It Be” (“I hate you clowny clown clown
!”). I watched his independent film,WHAT IS IT?
, staring actors with Down Syndrome. I even sat through CHARLIE’S ANGELS 1 + 2 (Justin Theroux’s ab
s took a strong second to the most interesting thing about the sequel).
Then one day, on a not so special day in January, the stars aligned and Crispin and I crossed paths. It was the Sundance Film Festival 2005. I was wandering around one of many butt sniffing industry parties when my boss, Dana, shouted, “There goes your man!”
“You know, that freak that you always talk about?” Dana said.
“Oh! My man!”
I quickly spun around to see a dark shadow filter through the crowd.
Was it really him!?
Without thinking, I dashed into the party. I marched up and down the room desperately searching for my love. Finally, when I was about to give up all hope, the sea of scenesters parted ways and like a shining beacon, I spotted the illusive figure in the back of the room. With his back turned towards me and a single silhouette of smoke rising above his head, I floated up and gently tapped him on the shoulder.
It was him!
There was something Godly about him (or Ungodly- take your pick).
That snow-white tan! That slippery snake hair! That gawky body! That indifferent demeanor! All of it hadn’t changed since 1985. It was as if he had been pickled.
I was staring at a beautiful artifact in a mortician’s garb.
“Mr Glover, may I take a picture with you?” I stuttered.
He leaned in, put his strong hand around my waist, and whispered into my ear, “Yes, Lauren. I’ve been waiting for you. You are my DES-TINY.”
Look how incredibly happy we are