I routinely go whole years without learning anything. But there are days when, whitened by early-morning terror alerts, I open up the gossip rags for a little relief… and learn something huge. Today was one of those days. I’m reading this Page Six item in The New York Post about Jon Bon Jovi ducking Diane Lane in the Hamptons, and I learn a) JBJ and DL were a mid-’80s item (common enough knowledge, I suppose) and b) their breakup led to his writing “You Give Love a Bad Name.”
Now this may come as a shock to you, reader, but I have never dated Diane Lane. The calls were made, but not returned in a timely fashion, and I’m a stickler for prompt returns. The point is: I don’t know what kind of name Lane gives love (though I’d say she gave infidelity a very good name in Unfaithful). When I first heard the song in ‘86, I was convinced it was about Erika Rasmussen, who sat four rows over and taunted me mercilessly with her freckles and brazen Jem-and-the-Holograms-themed outfits. I wasn’t yet aware of Diane Lane, my fifth-grade tastes tending instead toward women who were more – what’s the word? – Japanimated.
If I’d only known. Well, consider me warned, even though the warning comes two decades too late. Diane Lane still hasn’t returned my calls and texts, and maybe it’s for the best. Thirty unanswered “where you ats” and I’m done, Diane. That’s where I’m at, savvy? You’ll never get your blood-red nails on this.