Sunday, April 10, 2005

I Was a Mail-Order Alien Bride

I was a teenage Spock stalker. We’re talking pre-Internet, when the best you could do with your obsession was join some mail-order Starfleet Command chapter and collect glossy black and white headshots of the guy. Maybe I should put it this way: I was a mail-order Spock bride. I wished. The whole Pon Far mating season played marvelously to a teenage girl’s fluctuating hormones. To be The One who might penetrate the man’s oh-so-logical armor of restraint. To be The One who made his half-human green blood run hot.

Yes, these are the earliest roots, the tiny tendrils deep in the soil, of my penchant for sci-fi romance. Not Kirk, not Scottie, not even Jean Luc Picard, who didn’t come along until I was in college. Spock—he was the man.

And then let’s flip forward a few pages in my Book of Nerd, and you’ll find me watching a relatively unknown and under-appreciated sci-fi television show, Roswell. Spock had been dethroned by a dreamy eyed alien named Max Evans, and I wanted to be his Liz Parker. I had children, a successful business, a wonderful husband, but that show put me under its spell. I didn’t collect headshots, but nevertheless I know that plenty of people (most especially my husband!) would say I became obsessed.

But the ultimate Hunky Guy in Space of the 2000’s just might be Farscape’s John Crichton. What is it with me and placing bets on a series that is doomed for cancellation? At least we live in the era of the box set, not the glossy black and white headshot.

Dreaming up strong, sexy, heroic alien men comes naturally to me at this point. Maybe somewhere in my consciousness there’s a permanent bulletin board, covered in fluttering Police cutouts, Duran Duran snapshots—and right in the center, like a bull’s eye, stands a black-and-white glossy photograph of Spock. Then again, maybe I really am a mail order Spock Bride.


Diana Peterfreund said...

Don't get me started on John Crichton. (Okay, too late: I'm already a space geek. It's Jacki's fault!)

Gena Showalter said...

I adored Roswell! Sometimes, I wanted Max, others I wanted Michael (the bad boy). I think that show helped fuel my own love of aliens. Now I can't get enough of those ET men!

Anonymous said...

I think everyone *whether you watched the show or not* wanted to be a Liz Parker to a Max Evans. They had that movie love that made us sigh, and laugh, and cry.

Shows like Buffy and Roswell started my obsession with paranormal teen dramas. I remember on my 13th birthday, all I wanted was an alien (though I thought if God was being extra nice, he could've given me one in the shape of Jason Behr.)

Anonymous said...

Isn't John Crichton wonderful? Oh, it's so tough to choose between he or Max Evans.

Joan Reeves said...

Finally, someone who appears to adore Roswell as much as I. I'm counting the days until Season 3 comes out on DVD. Did you recognize Max from one of the early Buffy episodes? Max and Liz were so Romeo-Juliet. But Michael and Maria? Wow! By season 2, their story became paramount. Michael was the one with the growth arc, and Maria complemented him perfectly.

Evangeline Holland said...

*Sob* Don't get me started on my love of Roswell. I think there needs to be more aliens in romanctic fiction! Enough vampires and werewolves, give me aliens.

Crystal* said...

Simply something about the unattainable. Spock? Oh yeah. *grinning* Love to see it when he lost control of those tightly-reined emotions. WOO!
Of course, I liked Scotty's accent, and Bone's sarcasm.
I think it's about time aliens and space folk got their due. There are several fans thirsting for more. It might a perfect universe.

merlinsmuse said...

For me, it was Captain Kirk. I was about 10 years old when I mailed him a love letter, but just as I let go of the envelope into the mail slot, I realized I hadn't put a return address. Now that I'm older (alot), I realize how much he reminds me of my father. Scary thought.