Musical Mourning

I've often thought that if a person wants to get to know me, to really get to know me, we have to share a musical bond (and they have to watch The Motorcycle Diaries). And I don't mean, "Check out the new Kanye album, it's awesome!" - though I'd appreciate that as well. I mean taking the time to think about the other person and what they'd like and carefully selecting certain songs to share. I mean going to concerts and having a rockin' good time, but I also mean sitting down in a theatre and experiencing opera or Indo-jazz together. I choose my concert buddies carefully, and extend invitations only to those whom I care for and know will appreciate the experience. Sharing music is ultimately like sharing intimate little pieces of me.

Back when D-bag and I were seeing each other, we had a discussion about money and our spending habits. Knowing that I was a bit of a thrift (in comparison to the $600 he'd spend on ONE outfit), he asked me what it was that I would spend money on. I told him: travel, theatrical experiences, music and concerts... He said: clothes. Not surprisingly, and for a multitude of other reasons, we didn't last long.

I'm the type to pay attention to particularly good soundtracks when I watch movies. I once emailed a DJ from the campus radio station to commend him on a fabulous set that he played one afternoon. If I have a crush, I crush on my crush's music too. When I came back home after six months away in 2007, one of my closest friends sat me down in his room (where he had a stack of CDs waiting) and played me all the wonderful music that I had missed while I was gone overseas. Adam and I re-bonded over the fact that he spent weeks just sending me music that he thought I'd like - we starting dating again not long after that. I swooned when my roommate's (then potential) boyfriend dropped by one day with a mix CD he made of cool music from North America because she had just come here from England.

Back when I was single and bitter, my tagline was "music is my boyfriend". I proclaimed, Don't make Love to me. Make Music to me! Looks like I'm back to such an attitude now...

In dealing with my most recent heart (and head)ache, I've discovered that I actually had such a musically bonding experience - he and I simultaneously melted a little bit when we realized we both knew Blonde Redhead and Battles - and that my sadness has much to do with the fact that I've now lost someone that I loved sharing obscure music with, a fun concert buddy, a person who could sweep me off my feet with the sounds he introduced me to. I took him to his first (mini) opera, we experienced a breathtaking Carmina Burana (where the symphony first met the street, and one of the best things I've ever seen). There are countless songs and artists that will probably remind me of him forever - some that I can't listen to anymore without my heart feeling so heavy and full that it threatens to fall out of my chest. There's actually one song that immediately brings to mind not only the image of us on his rug in the living room, but the whole of what it felt like to be in his apartment that spring. It is SO a part of my nature and also SO unfortunate that I attach such significance to music because those little things I attached will never leave me now. Adding to the level of unfortunality is the fact that he's the type of person who doesn't have sticky emotional strings like I do (who is, really?), so he's able to listen to the music I introduced him to without thinking of me at all.

But I held onto the part of our relationship that seemed to have the most longevity. Back in August, I was sitting near his house in a park at an ultra-cool didgeridoo concert thinking of how he would have loved it if only he wasn't suspiciously camping with his ex-ex-girl/bestfriend for the weekend. Suffice to say, he had a good camping trip, and I didn't talk to him for months. But, in attempting to create an environment where we could have some fun again and work on this whole 'Friends' thing, I asked him to a couple concerts for two artists I introduced him to last week. He couldn't make it to one, and then (accidentally? purposefully?) invited his ex-ex-girl/bestfriend whom he lied to about me to the other one. Not exactly my idea of a fun night. So I guess that's that. The musical side of me was the last part I was still willing to share with him, and it looks like my latest efforts are also my last. Nothing like a(nother) giant backfire to teach me (yet) a(nother) lesson in How To Stop Giving Yourself Away.
1:19 pm