Most everybody thinks of Florence Henderson as the quintessential television mom, and that vaguely Oedipal association seems to have successfully inhibited the American public from ever realizing what a totally white-hot babe she really is . . .
To put a woman like that in close daily proximity to a normally sex-obsessed teenage guy is to drive that poor young man wild. At least, that's what happened to me. Almost from day one, my feelings toward Florence were more carnal than maternal.
It finally got so intense, that one day I just couldn't control myself anymore and wound up asking her out. Amazingly, she accepted.
Of our evening on the town, Florence told me, "I could tell you were very nervous . . . but at the same time, I didn't want to take over. It was more fun watching you try to take charge of the evening."
We said goodbye, Florence let me give her a deep kiss good night (no tongue, but nice), and I drew my first deep breath in what seemed like hours.
I went home feeling like a major stud.
_ From Growing up Brady: I Was a Teenage Greg, by Barry Williams with Chris Kreski.