My first real girlfriend was Princess Allura, pilot of the Blue Lion in Voltron Force. I was ten, she was a little older. I lived in a small farming town in eastern Connecticut, she lived on the planet Arus at the edge of the universe. I was in fourth grade, she was a warrior princess who flew a mechanical lion that formed the right leg of a massive hero robot who always brought a sword to a gun fight. It wasn't easy, but we made it work. At least for a while.
Now that I think about it, it's crazy how many of my early crushes' names began with the same letter: Anne (Shirley), Ariel, Arcee. Those were some bitchin' times. I mean, if you caught Arcee in vehicle mode, you'd think she'd be huge into Debbie Gibson, but boy, transform that girl into a biped Autobot scout, and she'd roll out a party in my pre-adolescent bedroom. With my fingers clasped around her waist, she'd waltz lock-kneed across my bureau, grooving to some Axel Rose jam, being all like, "Guns 'N Robots rule!"
It was hard to admit she was too much for me.
Still, on lonely nights, like all of us, I think of the one who got away. Oh, pink Princess Aggie from G-Force: Battle of the Planets--where are you now? Your gossamer wings still set the intersteller spaceship of my heart aflame.