Diane Keaton, My First Adult Crush

We all have childhood crushes. Before the age of twelve, I’d already racked up hundreds — Bond women, Samantha Stevens, Emma Peel, April Dancer — and plenty more I’m too embarrassed to list. But the crushes that really stay with you aren’t the ones from Saturday morning TV. They’re your first adult ones.
Mine was Diane Keaton.
The reasons for falling so hard for her probably equal the number of celebrity infatuations I’d had before. I was twenty-three, single, and fresh off a relationship with a brunette singer I met doing Hair. She never actually said “la-de-da,” but she came awfully close.
Then, while living in Los Angeles, I saw two movies that changed everything — Annie Hall (for obvious reasons) and Looking for Mr. Goodbar. I was instantly smitten. So smitten, in fact, that I decided to let her know.
The Letter
First things first: I crossed the intersection of Glen Oaks and Olive, made my way to the Burbank Library, and checked out a paperback biography of my new love. I devoured it in a couple of hours, and by nightfall, I was writing a heartfelt letter to my adult crush.
Cut to fifty years later — and alas, I never heard back. Maybe I was too forward. More likely, the letter never reached her. In hindsight, that’s probably for the best. Even then, a handwritten note asking someone out might’ve come off as, well… a little creepy. Never mind that I didn’t have a literal pot to piss in. Perspective is everything.
What I Really Meant
What I’m really trying to say is this:
Diane Keaton, I already miss you.
I’m glad you never got my letter. I’m glad I didn’t creep you out.
You were born on January 5, 1946.
You left us on October 11, 2025.
Thank you for the hats, the wit, the grace — and for showing an entire generation that smart, funny, and slightly odd could be beautiful.
Rest in peace, Diane.
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