Off my chest

It’s time to discuss a topic near and dear to my heart. Musicians. Male musicians and their egos and dating them. I would like to reiterate that this is my own, SUBJECTIVE, experience.

We will not be discussing female musicians because I have nothing but wonderful down-to-earth kindness to report on that front.

Actual art that I was specifically requested to make, but was never used

So, let’s get on with it huh?

I’ve dated a few. I seem to favor drummers for some reason, but I digress. We will strictly be discussing the pop-punk-type band musicians. The ones whose thrones are crowd-surfed to them on stage. Their castles are beer-soaked basements full of misfits just like them, and it is (admittedly) fucking glorious. Some of my most euphoric memories took place in a stranger’s basement, rocking out to a setlist I will likely never hear again. It’s important to know that, in all of their atrocities, they taught me how to truly love music. I learned to experience it, and it was beautiful.

At a distance.

I think you may be able to infer where I’m going with this.

This, too, was once my element. With them, there was no other choice. Support them (and don’t expect reciprocity) or suffer, no matter how maladaptive they are being.

I have two significant experiences to discuss, taking place several years apart.

The first was a whirlwind romance that had nothing to do with music at first. Just two kids in love, exploring the world as they please. He was different then. He brought me freshly-baked brownies at midnight and asked me to homecoming and prom in very loving and extravagant ways. He was all that I wanted, but I was also 17. We were children still, and I had no idea what I actually wanted from an adult relationship. That concept was entirely foreign to me and I followed my heart. I had not yet learned the importance of reason in these matters, but it didn’t matter to me. I was a kid! I was learning, and he was so beautiful to me at that time. I saw every part of him. He let me in and I thanked him for my stay, ya know?

Then came the constant basement practices with band members that were so standoffish to me (for some reason)? I made art for them, supported them with morning donuts, but to no avail. This sense of entitlement was still ever-present. In time, he treated me like that too. Like he already had a faithful companion, hook line and sinker. He no longer needed to try. He knew he had me, and he did.

For nearly 4 years.

He stopped trying after the first.

It took me a very long time to understand where this disposition was coming from, and took me quite a bit of time to figure out even after I had dumped him.

Entitlement.

Like my love and heart and being were auctioned off to him early-on. Like I had signed some binding contract and became something that he owned. It felt like perhaps he had won me over, and that was it. He was free to pursue whatever was captivating him at the time. Things independent of me.

But oh honey, the arrogance? He got that from the music scene. The eternal pursuit for fame, which (in time), spearheaded any sort of musical endeavor.

In all of that time that he had stayed stagnant, I had grown. I found my own tribe of loyal friends, we gritted through nursing school together, and I learned exactly who the fuck I was. I wasn’t without my fallacies, but I was armed with an unshakeable new sense of self.

I embraced that woman ever since.

I said yes to her and her interests, and I dumped that loser.

I would also like to have it known, for the purposes of anonymity and grace, the details of the extraordinarily messy breakup will not be disclosed. It went about as well as you can expect a 4-year relationship to end. We lived together at the time and had been on a rocky path for months.

But it ended, and we shall leave it at that. The relationship was deceased, cremated, and ashes spread on some emerald coast.

Through all that pain, I fucking found myself and learned what true (balanced) freedom is.

Fast forward to 2(ish) years later

I’lll set the scene (picture me at a podium, clearing my throat in exposition).

Boy likes girl for years.

Boy is best friends with aforementioned ex boyfriend.

Aforementioned ex boyfriend is, to nobody’s surprise, still bitter about a breakup that (to his own arrogant fallacy) he is still struggling to process.

These two boys are also musicians, chasing their own dreams of grandeur in several different bands.

That is the gist. Let’s discuss new boy and his relevance.

New boy is definitely better than old boy, or so I thought at the time. We had been friends and his new band had somewhat taken off a bit. We had hung out in passing a few times over the years, but at the time he was a dear friend from high school. One who had plans to pursue me, but boy numero uno beat him to the punch all those years ago.

This boy had a beautiful, creative mind. He was such a stark contrast from my first musician. As such, he has a way with words that was completely foreign to me. In summary, he had captivated me. He had always told me that we would be friends first no matter what, to which I agreed.

He told me things like "you color everything around you". Like, how beautiful is that? I was beyond flattered.

And just as much more susceptible to him, for a very brief moment in time.

But something wasn’t right, some spark from all those years ago was bubbling beneath the surface in him. At times, when his guard was down, it was palpable. When he was free from his arrogance, he was beautiful. On the rare occasion that he was humble and chose to have perspective, he was fucking marvelous. Admirable. Sexy, even.

But this was not always. He would shamelessly brag, in the same entitled way, about all of his connections in music. As if I was supposed to be impressed by that? He reminded me to remember him when he was famous, which tore my heart apart.

I remember thinking “so fucking close” to myself. The pipe dreams, which may very well be realized, made him feel entitled to more. Above human decency. Perhaps I would have noticed this in my first experiences, had I been more observant. Nevertheless, it was painfully obvious to me now. Obvious when he hinted feelings, and obvious in my deliverance that there would never be an us.

To which he disagreed me like trash, and all those promises of “friends first” were nothing but insurance to him. A cop out, in laments terms. I kicked him out of my life, begrudgingly, shortly after. Something I would not have had the gumption for in my first round of this mess.

But I learned, and now surely know, that musicians are sometimes riddled with red flags. If the monster ego is there, then honey you had better run for the hills.

People are beautiful and complex and important. That's something you can only see if you hone out to a wider lens. Definitely not compatible with eternal tunnel vision.