I must have always had a thing for older men.
When I was 11, maybe up to the time I was 13, I used to make lists of my celebrity crushes. Not for me the likes of Leif Garrett, David and Shaun Cassidy and Parker Stevenson - the late 70s equivalent of Zac Efron, the Jonas Brothers and Chace Crawford. Too young, too scrubbed, too bubble gum. Instead my lists featured - or so I believed - men of humor and character, men of experience, men of assured swagger. Men like Robert Redford, Warren Beatty, James Garner, Alain Delon, James Caan, even Beau Bridges...
And then there was Paul Newman and his impossibly beautiful blue eyes, in a class of his own.