I'm a Believer
I have a close friend who only calls me for one of two reasons. 1. She needs to borrow an outfit. 2. She has broken up with her boyfriend. So when she called recently I wasn't too surprised to learn she was screaming up the highway in a desperate bid to get her boyfriend to start talking to her again. By the time she had finished sobbing out the details to me she had pulled up to the place where her boyfriend was hanging out and I knew I had to act quickly. She was about to surrender all of her dignity for a guy who was about as worth it as second-hand chewie.
The crux of the problem is that he is a moderately popular country musician and he has generously bestowed automatic membership to his fan club towards the entire human race. If you make the mistake of refusing to play the part of an adoring groupie he will at first be thrown into confusion then attempt to wow you with yet another story about his outback conquests. And then, if all else fails, he will begin sulking like a petulant child then go in search of someone who will massage his bruised ego. He is enormously generous but its only to demonstrate how a big star like him can make anything happen. Like apple pie. When I was travelling with them toa gig we had mentioned we wanted to have apple pie for dessert. He offered to arrange it but when we came downstairs he was so excited about his impending performance that he forgot to tell us about the dessert waiting for us in the kitchen. I don't know what he was excited about. The crowd was about as hot as the beer-stained wallpaper slowly peeling its way off the wall in what I imagined to be an attempt to escape the hideous singing reindeer head. Anyhow the next morning we remembered the desserts and mentioned it to him. He took it upon himself to redeem the error by arranging MORE dessert for us. We tried everything short of hog-tieing him to prevent it but he was DETERMINED TO GET THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT. He didn't seem to understand that while we may have wanted dessert last night we were over it by now. It took actual yelling to slow his progress through the kitchen en-route to wake the hungover bar manager to fetch his 'groupies' some apple pie. I could only shake my head in wonder.
Anyhow my friend had grown tired of him being unable to accommodate actual needs that didn't require demonstrating that he was king of the outback or of apple pie breakfasts. He didn't understand what the problem was and so had gone to Caboolture with his buddies. My friend had pursued him there in a blind panic over the thought of him breaking up with her. She had just parked the car and I knew this was time to intervene before things got anymore ridiculous. "Don't you dare get out of the car." I commanded. "If you go in there he will know he has the upper hand and nothing will change." "But I just want to talk to him!" she wailed. "Go home RIGHT NOW - I'll meet you there. The USS Kittyhawk is in Brisbane - I am taking you out." I said firmly. "Ok." she whimpered. It was difficult but after a few patient hours of listening to her bemoan her apparent loss we picked up my friend Kate and headed into the city. My strategy was simple - park ourselves in a bar likely to host the visiting American sailors and allow the forces of nature to demonstrate to my friend what was so obvious to everyone else around her - i.e. she did not need to chase ANY MAN.
Within an hour we were standing in a karaoke bar belting out, "I'm a believer!" by Smashmouth in the middle of a joyful jumping mass of sailors. It was an appropriate song for that moment because my friend was in the arms of a gorgeous, sincere, funny, intelligent, caring guy who loved country music just as much as she did. Who knew that with a little bit of faith a miracle could happen? With a certain amount of self-satisfaction I saw her slowdance with the guy like they were high school sweethearts. I had never seen her dance before. I had never seen her with a guy so damn hot before. It wasn't long before we all had invitations to rendezvous with the sailors at their next port of call. Not long after, like manly Cinderellas they had to leave the party by midnight so we said our farewells and promised to email.
Like all great love affairs this one demanded a bit of faith and my friend decided she didn't have it in her. She went back to her boyfriend who continued to assert she was too demanding of his time. Grrrrr.
Sigh. Perhaps she is right. Maybe having faith in love is a great way of driving yourself mad with unrequited desire. Perhaps its sensible and rational to stay with the guy who doesn't put bubbles in your champagne...WHAT AM I SAYING! My friend once said she finds her boyfriend PHYSICALLY REPULSIVE! That he wears grey knickers with holes in them. That she can't stand the way he always talks about food or that he flirts with buckle-bunnies! I should have fed her one more bourbon and coke, stowed her onboard, then waited for the wedding invitation to arrive in the mail.
At least I'm still a believer.
The crux of the problem is that he is a moderately popular country musician and he has generously bestowed automatic membership to his fan club towards the entire human race. If you make the mistake of refusing to play the part of an adoring groupie he will at first be thrown into confusion then attempt to wow you with yet another story about his outback conquests. And then, if all else fails, he will begin sulking like a petulant child then go in search of someone who will massage his bruised ego. He is enormously generous but its only to demonstrate how a big star like him can make anything happen. Like apple pie. When I was travelling with them toa gig we had mentioned we wanted to have apple pie for dessert. He offered to arrange it but when we came downstairs he was so excited about his impending performance that he forgot to tell us about the dessert waiting for us in the kitchen. I don't know what he was excited about. The crowd was about as hot as the beer-stained wallpaper slowly peeling its way off the wall in what I imagined to be an attempt to escape the hideous singing reindeer head. Anyhow the next morning we remembered the desserts and mentioned it to him. He took it upon himself to redeem the error by arranging MORE dessert for us. We tried everything short of hog-tieing him to prevent it but he was DETERMINED TO GET THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT. He didn't seem to understand that while we may have wanted dessert last night we were over it by now. It took actual yelling to slow his progress through the kitchen en-route to wake the hungover bar manager to fetch his 'groupies' some apple pie. I could only shake my head in wonder.
Anyhow my friend had grown tired of him being unable to accommodate actual needs that didn't require demonstrating that he was king of the outback or of apple pie breakfasts. He didn't understand what the problem was and so had gone to Caboolture with his buddies. My friend had pursued him there in a blind panic over the thought of him breaking up with her. She had just parked the car and I knew this was time to intervene before things got anymore ridiculous. "Don't you dare get out of the car." I commanded. "If you go in there he will know he has the upper hand and nothing will change." "But I just want to talk to him!" she wailed. "Go home RIGHT NOW - I'll meet you there. The USS Kittyhawk is in Brisbane - I am taking you out." I said firmly. "Ok." she whimpered. It was difficult but after a few patient hours of listening to her bemoan her apparent loss we picked up my friend Kate and headed into the city. My strategy was simple - park ourselves in a bar likely to host the visiting American sailors and allow the forces of nature to demonstrate to my friend what was so obvious to everyone else around her - i.e. she did not need to chase ANY MAN.
Within an hour we were standing in a karaoke bar belting out, "I'm a believer!" by Smashmouth in the middle of a joyful jumping mass of sailors. It was an appropriate song for that moment because my friend was in the arms of a gorgeous, sincere, funny, intelligent, caring guy who loved country music just as much as she did. Who knew that with a little bit of faith a miracle could happen? With a certain amount of self-satisfaction I saw her slowdance with the guy like they were high school sweethearts. I had never seen her dance before. I had never seen her with a guy so damn hot before. It wasn't long before we all had invitations to rendezvous with the sailors at their next port of call. Not long after, like manly Cinderellas they had to leave the party by midnight so we said our farewells and promised to email.
Like all great love affairs this one demanded a bit of faith and my friend decided she didn't have it in her. She went back to her boyfriend who continued to assert she was too demanding of his time. Grrrrr.
Sigh. Perhaps she is right. Maybe having faith in love is a great way of driving yourself mad with unrequited desire. Perhaps its sensible and rational to stay with the guy who doesn't put bubbles in your champagne...WHAT AM I SAYING! My friend once said she finds her boyfriend PHYSICALLY REPULSIVE! That he wears grey knickers with holes in them. That she can't stand the way he always talks about food or that he flirts with buckle-bunnies! I should have fed her one more bourbon and coke, stowed her onboard, then waited for the wedding invitation to arrive in the mail.
At least I'm still a believer.
Some women don't get it do they? That they're better, that they're worth more, that they are hot and smart and gorgeous.
Why do we keep doing this to ourselves (loving the wrong guy)?
Great post - really enjoyed reading this.
Cheers
CC