Thursday, April 27, 2017

Confession, or Lover's Lament

I'm going to make an informed guess that, among my 15 or so readers, at least a couple of you have experienced being in a relationship with a musician.

Always assuming that either Edie Brickell or Paul Simon
is a loyal Drunkard. Right?

Musicians are amazing, you know? They're talented, they're sensitive (at least when they're playing), they're perpetually interesting.

And the love of their life is...their music.

I get it. Really. Because I'm a writer.

Hard cold truth: Loving a musician means - at best - sharing his/her heart with music.

If you love a musician, the best you can hope for is a polyamorous relationship. You will never be their only love. Their first love? PAFF. Musicians will never put you first. No matter how much they love you, they cannot ever put you first. Music is always #1.

If you can accept that, you can share a piece of their heart. Which is a beautiful thing. Maybe the most beautiful thing you'll ever know.

But you will not - cannot - command their devotion. They can't hear you over the constant cacophony in their head.

Don't even try shouting. Trust me.

Love yourself before even attempting to love a musician. It's your only - only - shot at survival.

I'm in love with a musician. But I have no intention of sacrificing my soul to the capricious winds of his attention.

I am myself. No matter what.

I believe that he and I will meet halfway in our respective arts.

It's the only way I can love him.

If I'm wrong, I still have my soul.

How many of you can say that?

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Seeking: Advice for Prom

Precocious Daughter is a high school junior this year.

And Precocious Boyfriend just invited her to prom.

And he asked her like this, OMG.
So we are shopping for prom dresses this weekend.


I attended my senior prom in 1985. Mind you, my date was a completely platonic closeted gay man eight years older than me.

It will all be in the book.

But my point dress was a full-length lavender gown with a gathered skirt, puffed sleeves, and a mesh insert above the shirred princess neckline.

You guys, I looked like the spinster bridesmaid at a cool friend's wedding.

But the prom theme was Phil Collins' "One More Night,"
so suck it, millennials.
The intelligence I've gathered indicates that PDaughter will be looking for a dress that is a) no longer than knee length, b) unadorned by lace or other frou-frou, and c) dark in color, i.e., black or navy.

Not this, but...dear Jeebus, I hope not this.
Whereas my prom dress was objectively fugly, I'm not looking to school PDaughter on what to wear to prom. I trust her sensibilities and her style. And her ability to handle whatever emotional reaction she might have to her prom dress in 30 years.

I might draw the line here.

Still, I'm expecting this to be a highly emotional episode for me. So I'm asking:

If you've helped a young woman shop for a prom dress, do you have any advice?

If you've shopped for your own prom dress, do you have any advice?

If you're just happy to be asked for your opinion, do you have any advice?

I'm looking for advice, Drunkards.

Share. And I promise to let you know what PDaughter actually decides on. On which she actually decides. Whatever.

Dear 21st century: I was told prom would stop being awkward. WTF??