After all, this was what young girls my age had been taught to desire above all else: to be the object of that kind of hunger. I wanted to be hungered for like that, to be the object of it. It wasn’t that I wanted him, the ‘Loaf himself-I didn’t have any crushes on adult men at that age, not even celebrities-but I wanted that hunger. I was exactly the right age for this video, the age when sex goes from “eew” to “hmm, tell me more.” I wanted some of whatever Meat Loaf and Michael Bay were selling.

An historical romance love triangle about two brothers who loved the same woman, and of course it was all very tortured. That year I started to write a novel about… I’m not even sure. If you were unmoved by this kind of thing, even in middle school, then fine, but you are not my people. It was a music video that asked, what if Quasimodo was an over-the-top bombastic 70s rock star and also sang like the Phantom of the Opera? What if a floor-length white dress could also show your whole underwear? What if you followed a fugitive hunchback through the dark woods and then bathed in your clothes by the light of a thousand burning tapers? What if backup singers? What if lightning? What if chandeliers? The pure old-fashioned melodrama of it all. It was a power ballad missile of queasy erotic awakening aimed straight at my 14-year-old heart. This music video had everything: revving engine sounds a mausoleum a Michael Bay-directed helicopter, car, and motorcycle chase a foggy blue forest angst a sexy fat man in Halloween makeup smashing a literal hall of mirrors flashlights dorky lyrics sexual longing an opulent bi-curious bedroom set, lesbian succubi absolutely included and so, so many candles. When I saw Meat Loaf’s iconic I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That) for the first time on MTV, I had just finished eighth grade.

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