As a child in the vibrant 1980s, I never fit the mold of a traditional girl. Embracing my tomboy spirit, I resisted the label—after all, I wasn’t a boy either. The term “tomgirl” never seemed to cross anyone’s mind, and I often wondered why.
During recess, I was a fierce competitor, darting across the playground in Eugene, Oregon, engaged in what we called “slaughterball”—a version of dodgeball that had us running, diving, and shouting “Facial disgracial!” in the heat of the game. While I occasionally joined the girls on the bars for stunts like penny drops and dead man’s drops, my camaraderie with the boys felt more natural. I never questioned my preference; it simply was.
At home, life was simpler on my quiet street. Most of my neighborhood friends were boys, and we often gathered in the little space between two houses to stage grand adventures with our Star Wars action figures. One friend had a cool Darth Vader carrying case, while I usually snagged the less glamorous characters like Twiki from Buck Rogers. We were free-range kids before that term existed, playing until dusk and returning home covered in dirt, ready for my mom’s creative cooking that often included zucchini and cottage cheese. She would ask, “Did you have fun?” to which I’d eagerly reply, “Yeah! Can I watch TV?” Thankfully, she rarely turned me down.
Thursday evenings were sacred; Magnum, P.I. was a must-see. I would plop down on the shag carpet, chin in hand, as the show’s iconic theme music filled the room. The moment Tom Selleck appeared on screen—raising those famous eyebrows—I felt a rush of excitement. When he was on, I experienced a flutter, a mix of admiration and innocence that made me blush at the sight of his charming antics.
“Do you have a crush on Tom?” my dad would jokingly ask. “No way!” I’d retort, all the while internally swooning over Magnum, not Tom.
Reflecting on those moments now, it’s clear why Magnum enchanted me—he embodied safety and charm, a blend of goofiness and charisma that made him approachable. There was no fear of rejection or judgment, just a comforting presence that allowed me to indulge in my crush freely. With his thick mustache, sporty Ferrari, and adventurous spirit, he was a perfect fantasy to escape into.
Magnum, P.I. was my first crush, capturing the essence of my tomboy heart without any reservations.
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In summary, my childhood crush on Magnum, P.I. was more than just a fleeting infatuation; it was a formative experience that resonated with my identity as a tomboy. It allowed me to embrace my uniqueness without fear of judgment while paving the way for my understanding of relationships.