Not a moment of my waking hours, my spare time was spent without the radio on, headphones strapped to my ears or my favorite track blasting from my CD player on repeat (driving my parents crazy, no doubt). For it was through these songs I obsessed over that I began to prepare my list of desired qualities in a male mate.
For example, from Paul Simon I learned that a man should notice the way I brush my hair from my forehead.
From Johnny Cash I learned that should die on the gallows for my honor rather than admit he was with me the night my husband was murdered. (That’s chivalry.) For him, I would walk the hills in a long, black veil.
Tommy James claimed that he didn’t even need to know me, but he thought he could love me.
The Rev. Al Green told me that he felt like he just can’t get next to me.
Ben Harper claimed that he always had to steal kisses from me when I was in a simple country dress.
And Michael Jackson advised me not to stop until I get enough.
Admittedly, there were many mistakes made along the way; after all, I grew up during the eras of Boy Bands and Ricky Martin. Occasionally I would cave to the pressure of my girlfriends, claiming their likes were my likes since I was still quite unsure of what I really wanted. And later in life, I dated a few musicians, disenfranchising me with the world of music and some of the lifestyle choices that went along with it.
As years passed, I sort of forgot about my tendency to swoon over front men. Perhaps I distanced myself at concerts, or went to them less frequently. Or maybe I learned how to shelve my desire to save face. Whatever I did, last December, I started crumbling.
While at a concert celebrating this here magazine, the attention of many a fellow female watchers was caught when a three-man band took the stage. One guy looked like a typical rock n' roll front man; the other looked like he had just rolled out of bed; but the third member...he had our attention. A man with a cello. Off stage, he wasn’t quite as dazzling, but on stage, he had sex appeal.
But, I asked myself that night, what exactly is it that makes women love musicians?
My girlfriend Elise (who was with me that night) and I discussed this Clark Kent/Superman phenomenon before us. With cello, gorgeous / without cello, average. Best we could figure, a woman’s attraction to a man is heightened in direct proportion to a man’s display of sensitivity and emotion. And much sensitivity and emotion is typically involved when there are singer-songwriters on stage, performing, with any variety of instrument. Therefore, as they crooned, we swooned.
In this swooning stage, I noticed, I seem to lose all track of logic and slip into something like a music-induced drunkenness where my decision-making skills are impaired. I am not a groupie, so I do not act on these dilapidated decisions, but I do entertain the idea of “what if.”
What if I dated a musician? Would he sing songs to me? Would I become a muse? Would I stand at the sidelines of a stage, subserviently supporting all of his creative ambitions? What if he struck it big? Could I live the rock 'n' roll lifestyle?
Suddenly, in my drunkenness, I am not the Melissa I know myself to be; I become a forward thinker, daydreaming about a life that I do not long for or think is in my future. But the logic is out the door. And the chords are being strummed, words sung and hearts broken. So I swoon.
What I have noticed from being at big shows and local shows, is that musicians do not always seem to harness this power they are afforded during and after their shows. They should capitalize on the vulnerability of the women in the room, entertain their fantasies and have a flirtatious chat. They should come down off their pedestals (stages) and mingle with the grundlings (me) and become the icon that they are (music god) or fall from grace (be normal / average).
It would, at the very least, give me another chance to swoon.
• "A Single Serving" appears second and fourth Mondays every month, exclusively in Lumino Magazine. E-mail Melissa at m.koss@yahoo.com. Photo of Melissa by Anne Coloso.
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But..
Written by Guest on 2007-02-26 17:06:17
Melissa i thought you and i were groupies? i mean you are the one that refers to us as that. Just cause i drag you to all the shows with me.  mmmbop. (sorry i had to add it) |
Written by Guest on 2007-02-26 17:28:47
They often come off the stage and take advantage of the love-struck women and girls in the audience, especially after they are already married.
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Exhausted
Written by Guest on 2007-04-19 12:05:11
I am tired of musicians! |
