Updated: Aug. 3, 2016
Originally Published: Feb. 22, 2005
I never considered myself the quintessential “girly-girl.” Growing up in the ‘80s, I was more of a tomboy—though I disliked that label, as it implied I was somehow more boy than girl. Why wasn’t there a term like “tomgirl”?
During recess, I was always in the thick of the action, playing dodgeball, which we dubbed “slaughterball” in Eugene, Oregon, circa 1981. We’d dart across the playground, either chasing after the ball or dodging it, often shouting “Facial disgracial!” at the top of our lungs. When the competitive spirit took over, I sometimes joined the girls on the bars, doing penny drops and dead man’s drops. They’d ask why I preferred the boys’ company, but I never had a solid answer—mainly, I just felt more at ease with them.
Home life was a bit simpler on my quiet street, where most of the kids were boys. We’d gather in the shared space between two houses, unleashing our imaginations on a stone retaining wall with our Star Wars action figures. One friend owned a slick black Darth Vader carrying case, while the only other girl in the neighborhood often claimed the Princess Leia figure, leaving me with the odd extras from Buck Rogers, like Twiki and the dog.
As free-range kids long before the term was coined, we played until dusk, eventually stumbling home filthy and starving. My mom would often be in the kitchen preparing something unique involving zucchini and cottage cheese. This was back when my family was still whole, with my parents’ divorce looming on the horizon.
“Did you have fun?” my mom would ask.
“Yeah, we played freeze tag and Star Wars. Can I watch TV?” I’d respond, knowing she would rarely decline, given how seldom I was indoors.
Thursday nights were sacred for me—Magnum, P.I. was unmissable. My heart would race as I eagerly anticipated the opening scene. I’d splay out on the brown and gold shag carpet, chin resting in my hands, waiting for that familiar thrill. I was captivated each time Tom Selleck turned toward the camera—toward me—raising his eyebrows in that charming way. When he was shown with a woman in a bikini, I could feel my cheeks flush. I wasn’t exactly sure what had drawn me to the show, but I felt those butterflies whenever Magnum was on screen.
“Got a thing for Tom?” my dad would joke.
“Of course not!” I’d retort with a scoff, secretly thinking, “It’s Magnum, not Tom.”
In retrospect, it’s clear why he resonated with me: he felt safe. There was no peril in my admiration, and his short shorts didn’t seem scandalous back then. He blended charm with a touch of silliness, and his playful banter with Higgins made him the ultimate lovable rogue. I didn’t yet understand the complexities of feeling inadequate, but I could easily picture knowing him. My tomboyish demeanor was never challenged, allowing me to enjoy the innocent thrill of a crush without fear of judgment. There were just those unforgettable eyebrows, that iconic mustache, and the Ferrari I dreamed of riding in with him.
Yes, Magnum/Tom was my first true crush, the one who pierced my tomboy heart, and oh, what a delightful crush it was.
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Summary:
In this nostalgic reflection, Clara Thompson shares how her love for the iconic show Magnum, P.I. and its charming star Tom Selleck brought unexpected feelings of crushes and butterflies to her tomboy heart in the ‘80s. Despite her tomboyish nature, she found solace and excitement in the show, creating a safe space for her youthful crush while navigating childhood adventures.
Keyphrase: Magnum P.I. crush
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