In the summer of 1982, I knew I had to devise a strategy to soak up more MTV. Oh, how I craved my MTV! The allure was inescapable. I would sulk around, stealing glimpses of Martha Quinn and Nina Blackwood while trying to absorb Adam Curry’s magnificent hair whenever I could. But my sister and I truly quenched our thirst for music videos during Friday Night Videos. Babysitting gigs paid just a dollar an hour, but the real treasure was the MTV access that came with it. “Shhh! Kids, I can’t hear Kevin Cronin belting out ‘I Can’t Fight This Feeling.’
By the time Headbangers Ball debuted, my sister and I were already swept up in the hair band frenzy. Bon Jovi’s iconic album Slippery When Wet hit the scene in 1986, and my family was bursting with New Jersey pride. I constantly reminded my teenage friends that I was a Jersey girl, practically related to Jon himself. Family trips to the New Jersey shore meant I sported a T-shirt that proudly declared “Jersey girls … best in the world.” Every lifeguard on the beach seemed eager to chat with me, and I was blissfully naive about what the shirt truly implied at the tender age of 15. With a cheeky mother who once wore a shirt flaunting a cartoon of feet protruding from a van with the slogan “Do it in a van,” I didn’t have much guidance.
Every time “Livin’ on a Prayer” played on MTV, I was entranced. Those glorious hairstyles! The frosted highlights! Richie’s hat! Tico’s soul patch! They felt like long-haired superheroes ready to save the day. Before long, a poster of Jon Bon Jovi graced our hallway wall—though it was my 5-foot-tall, ever-so-cool mom who put it there, wanting to admire Jon every time she walked by our rooms.
I simply had to own the fashion statement of the year: a denim jacket with white fringe. I wore that jacket until it practically fell apart, showing up in countless photos over the years—okay, maybe it was more like three years. My mom might still have it tucked away in her closet!
The hits from that album felt endless. “Livin’ on a Prayer,” “You Give Love a Bad Name,” and “Wanted Dead or Alive” transformed us into karaoke stars before karaoke was even a thing. School dances were filled with air guitar solos and hands raised high, shouting “Whoa-o! We’re halfway there!” I can still recite every verse without a second thought; the lyrics effortlessly spill from my mouth.
By the time I reached college, my Slippery When Wet cassette was practically worn out. The New Jersey album was still going strong, and “I’ll Be There for You” was the anthem I hummed as I left my childhood friends behind in 1989. Coincidentally, that was the same year my parents finally decided to get cable—thanks, Mom and Dad.
My new college friends included a mix of polished sorority girls and fellow hair band enthusiasts. Joining the rowing team my freshman year led to my nickname, “Megadeth,” bestowed by a senior who appreciated my musical taste. It stuck, and to this day, my rowing teammates still call me “Mega.” It sounds much cooler than “Bon Jovi,” I suppose; the novices might have confused “Bon” for “Megan,” and that would have been a long story, indeed.
In my early college years, the boys I dated bore a striking resemblance to Jon Bon Jovi—at least if you squinted and looked from a distance. Hair bands reigned supreme, and my best friend and I set out to meet as many long-haired rockers as possible. I have photos with the likes of Enuff Z’Nuff, Dangerous Toys, Mr. Big, Skid Row, and Danger Danger. No, I’m not sharing those!
However, as the early ’90s rolled in, Nirvana came along and turned my rock music dreams upside down. Grunge took over, and brother bands to Bon Jovi, like Cinderella, Winger, and Extreme, faded quietly away. Many of those bands still tour, however, catering to middle-aged metal-heads just like me.
Now, my 4-year-old son has a penchant for country music, thanks to our Texas roots. But occasionally, a song catches his ear, and he begins to dance. He enjoys particular tracks by AC/DC, Mötley Crüe, and the Honeydrippers, with “Beth” by KISS and “Patience” by Guns N’ Roses being his favorite lullabies.
As for my husband, I’ve promised not to hang a Jon Bon Jovi poster in our hallway.
This essay first appeared at Midlife Mixtape, an excellent resource for all things motherhood, just like this link to our other blog posts that discuss home insemination kits. For those interested in the details of pregnancy, here is a fantastic resource!
In summary, this nostalgic journey through my teenage crush on Jon Bon Jovi and the hair band era reflects the joy of youth, the influence of music, and how it shapes our lives even as we grow older. Nowadays, I find myself navigating parenthood while reminiscing about those carefree days of dancing and singing along to the rock anthems of my youth.
Keyphrase: Jon Bon Jovi Nostalgia
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