Dirty Dancing, that story of forbidden love and forbidden dance in the Catskills, celebrates its 20th anniversary this year. To honor the two decades that have passed since somebody put baby in that corner, the film will begin a two-day run in theaters tomorrow and will be released as a special edition DVD on May 8. Besides making me feel very, very old, this milestone also brings up some painful truths from my youth. This is going to be embarrassing, so I'm just going to admit it up front, in order to keep the snickering to a minimum.

For a significant portion of my life, I thought Dirty Dancing was the best movie, like, ever. To my junior high mind, it was totally awesome. My preteen heart felt the pathos, loved Jennifer Grey's jean shorts (I owned several pairs) and — this is where things start to get really embarrassing — mooned over Patrick Swayze. I'd like to take a second here and note that, in my defense, I thought him the dreamiest when he was wearing that black tank top. And we all know the white tank top is No. 2 on the Top 11 Lesbian Fashion Accessories. (Let's not quibble over colors, people; I'm trying to hang on to the last vestiges of my lesbo street cred here). … continue reading