Millions of people know Scott Baio. Some know him as Charles "Chachi" Arcola on Happy Days. Other readers know him as Charles, the star (and director and producer) of Charles In Charge. The rest know him from 50+ movie and television projects, including a recent stint on the cult TV favorite, Arrested Development.
But Scott's true notoriety is actually none of the above.
Ooh. Do tell, book proposal. I mean, you've already blown me away with the secrets revealed in Scott Baio's bio. All this time, I only knew Baio as Charles, the lovable, unlikely live-in babysitter on Charles In Charge, while my sister knew Baio as Chachi on Happy Days, and one of my friends only knew him from watching 50+ random movie and television projects. We've all tried many, many times to have deep conversations about Scott Baio together, but we couldn't find an identical Scott Baio point of reference among the three of us. So imagine my surprise when I learn that most of the population only know Scott Baio for one thing and that there is no overlap! Thrilling! But what's this "true notoriety" you speak of?
Scott Baio is known among Hollywood insiders as The Man Who Loves Women, a gentleman who has dated and made love to some of the most desirable, beautiful starlets in Hollywood. The array and depth of beauty of Scott's partners is astounding and awe-inspiring. Residing in the center of Hollywood, Scott lives the lifestyle most men (and more than a few women) would sell their souls to attain.
Scott asks the central question, which is essentially the main theme of his book: 'If I have access to all these wonderful, gorgeous, voluputous women, then how come I'm still on my own? In Scott's self-deprecating, humorous, and sincere volume, BaioWatch: How I Dated And Loved Hollywood's Most Beautiful Women And Ended Up Alone, Baio probes the Hollywood dating labyrinth, as well as his inner thoughts and past experiences for possible clues and conclusions.
I'm glad that the distinction was made between dating and making love. That's the sign of a true gentleman. Still, who knew that Scott Baio has inner thoughts? And, more than that, who knew that the Hollywood dating scene was a hellish labyrinth, filled with desperate men (and more than a few women) who would sell their eternal souls to exchange places with the minotaur at its center, Scott Baio? But how will BaioWatch be different from the array of Hollywood tell-alls currently stocked at Barnes & Noble?
From both sides of the camera, Scott's seen it all. But BaioWatch is much more than a tell-all. The book is a revealing how-to look at the male psyche as Scott wrestles with the same quirks and quandaries the men and women confront in their daily lives inside the gladiatorial arenas of love, infatuation, the dating world, and the crucial crossroads of whether to commit or walk away and start over. And over and over. Scott is the real life "Alfie," who in the end always asks himself the same fabled question: "What's it all about?"
By anyone's standards, Scott Baio's life has been enviable and successful. His face still pops up longingly and frequently on MySpace profiles. He's been a fixture at the Playboy Mansion for a couple of decades running. He's the unparalleled master of meeting and picking up women. He's been the go-to guy for hundreds of beautiful, interesting, and intelligent women. He's got wealth, reputation, and good looks. All he lacks is one major piece of the puzzle: Ms. Right.
You know, with all the grandiose allusions to ancient Rome, mythology, and soul-selling, I thought that this book proposal was exaggerating a little about the hardships and desperation of dating–not to mention about Scott Baio's alleged noble quest for true love. But then I read the last two paragraphs, and I realized I was wrong. No one quotes the movie Alfie, or claims MySpace as a credit unless they're dead serious. So, what's it all about? Evidently, it's about corduroy sofas and losing your virginity to Erin "Joanie" Moran:
I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say after we got naked. So for the first five minutes, maybe less–hell, it might have been the first twenty seconds–I'm doing it and thinking, man, this is really uncomfortable. What happened was, my thing was between the cushions on the couch and I didn't even know it. Instead of being inside Erin, I was humping a corduroy sofa!
And so the navigation of the zany, labyrinthine gladiatorial arena of Hollywood dating begins! (Radar has many more excerpts here.)