Why we loved Patrick Swayze

There's something about being swept off your feet that will always sound like the most romantic thing in the world. And that moment – the one where Patrick Swayze lifts Jennifer Grey out of the water and over his head like an angel – will summon the same feelings of flutter in a good many hearts.

Because many things can be said about the life and film career of Patrick Swayze, may he rest in peace, but what he was most remembered for was being the kind of man who would never, apparently, put a baby in a corner. Sorry, that should be "Baby" and "THE corner". Baby was Jennifer Grey's character in Dirty Dancing, Patrick Swayze her dance instructor, confidence builder and, of course, her first love.

The film – I have no idea how it did in the cinema. What I do know it was shown at almost every sleepover I attended in my teens, and spoken of in hushed tones, like a cross between a secret first-love-manual and porn. It's often referenced as one of the perfect ingredients of a post-break-up chocolate and wine-fest, or a girly night in. That and, of course, Ghost. Ghost, the story of a man so faithful and loyal and in love with his wife that even death cannot rip him from her side.

Those aren't the only things he was in, of course. He was in one of the first big Brat Pack films, The Outsiders, he had periods of time off and he had a series even last year. But they're the things many people know him best from.

I'm not being competitive when I say I fancied Patrick Swayze first. I wasn't even three when he first starred in an episode of M*A*S*H. But when I saw it, much later, in my teens, I had a crush. And I couldn't say why – just because of his Swayzeness. Because behind the big square jaw and the puff of hair that was forever the Eighties there was something so strong and painful about him, always.

Why did he excite the hearts and loins of more than one generation? Was that it? Something about a haunted, troubled melancholy buried somewhere underneath a strong exterior. There was a sensitivity he brought to roles that got lost later on when as Wikipedia put it, he "found himself heavily typecast as beefcake". Whatever that means to you – he was, undoubtedly, one of those.

Yes, he was articulate. He was a good actor, and had presence. And he had a talent for brooding and sensitive, and could dance like a demon – but undeniably, he also looked very nice in wet clothes. It was one of the things he had in common with Colin Firth. (Not sure how many other things there were.)

It has been a while coming – this sad, inevitable and painful death that he fought very hard (and quite often publicly) for the past couple of years. But what he made will live on. And when someone needs cheering up after a relationship gone wrong, or to bond with the kind of friends that bond over such things – or just to have a good cry: it may well be one of his films they put on. And it probably won't be Roadhouse.

Because something in his brooding eyes will still speak to them. And it will be saying to them: "No one puts Baby in the corner". And they will reply, almost as one: "Rowr…" – and make a little kitten move with their non-wineglass-holding hand.