Every Girl Needs a Johnny Castle Once in Her Life

Johnny Castle – the brooding, bad-boy dancer, oozing molten sex appeal from every pore of his body, who stole Baby’s heart and opened her up to her own talents, possibilities, and sexual awakening in the cult classic 1987 movie, Dirty Dancing.

Baby – the naïve, idealistic, sheltered teenage girl, who was looking forward to college, the Peace Corps, and changing the world. She did not seek nor expect what was in store for her during a family summer vacation in 1963.

I recognized Baby. I was her. But my year was 1969, after the assassinations and riots, which fed fuel to my fire to help change the world even more than Baby. Baby was sheltered. I was restrained on a tight leash by a mother who was obsessed with making sure I did not become a “tramp”, which in her mind was a girl who had sex before marriage. She drilled it into my head from the time she explained to me what “sex” was that there was no greater moral fall from grace or shame than a girl who became a “tramp”, i.e. did not remain a virgin until marriage. For reasons I am still trying to unravel more than 50 years later, safeguarding my virginity was her mission. She interrogated me after every date and screamed at me if she thought I had transgressed even a tiny bit. She had succeeded in scaring the crap out of me so convincingly that here I was, still a virgin on my 21st birthday. I was not happy about it. It was well past time I found out what all the fuss was about.

And then I saw him. My Johnny Castle. Like Baby’s Johnny, he was older than me by about 7 years, and emanated sexual combustion. Like Baby’s Johnny, he was the ultimate forbidden fruit. Johnny Castle was Baby’s dance teacher and an employee of the hotel where she and her family were vacationing. My Johnny was my boss at a summer office job. As soon as I met him, I knew I wanted him to be my first.

Baby’s Johnny opened her up to her own possibilities and talents beyond the academic.

My Johnny unlocked me from my prison of the staid and prim. He gave me the opportunity to experience pure joy for nothing but the pleasure of it. I reveled in the freedom of the wind on my face as he taught me how to move my body in tandem with the motorcycle as I sat behind him with my arms wrapped around his waist. He freed me from my shyness and modesty as we skinny-dipped in the lake under a moonlit sky.

And he gave me the first sexual experience I had craved for so long. Was it wine and roses and love? No, it wasn’t. It was just sex. Plain old “slam bam, thank you ma’am” sex. But that was okay with me. I wanted the experience and he provided it.

And then it was over as soon as it began. Sept arrived as it always does, signaling the end of fleeting summer romances. I knew going in it was not a forever thing. I had a job to do – finish my senior year and take my degree to better the world. He had a job to do – continue to learn to run his family’s company. But for one brief summer moment in time, I had my Johnny Castle. Freedom, Excitement, and the thrill of my first sexual experience.

A mere 4 months later, I met and fell in love with the man who was to become my husband, my soulmate, my world, for the next 40+ years; the man who taught me the difference between having sex and making love. But I never forgot my Johnny Castle, and I regret not one minute of our time together. Every girl needs a Johnny Castle at least once in her life.