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Make sure to never do it with a singer ’cause he’ll tell everyone in the world

March 31, 2010

Chances are if you’re female, above the age of 14 and a lover of music, you have somewhat of a thing for musicians. Maybe it’s the quickness of their fingers on a guitar or the seemingly heartfelt lyrics leaving their mouths. Maybe it’s the very idea that the other 200 girls in the audience are gazing up at them with the same lustful expression you have plastered on your face. Maybe it’s a combination of all of those things. I honestly couldn’t tell you.

All I know is that I am one of the many, many girls who have a habit of developing monumental crushes on guys who just happen to be in bands.

And you know what, there’s no fault in that. Unless we’re flashing a bouncer in hopes he’ll let us go backstage, we shouldn’t have to be ashamed of ourselves. I’m just here to tell what you probably already know: that it’s best to steer clear from the boys on stage.

Fueled mostly by the pop-punk scene of the mid-to-late 90s, the beginning stages of my attraction to those holding a mic led me to have flings with three guys from the same fairly awful high school band (both the words “under” and “skunk” were used in the title). In my defense, they weren’t at the same time and happened to be some of the best male friends I had freshman and sophomore year. Which was also what was strange about it– I didn’t feel anything for these guys while hanging out after school or sitting with them at lunch. It may have crossed my mind that they were cute, but I didn’t find them sexy and certainly didn’t want to date any of them. But I did. And as each fling ended, I remembered why for so long I thought of the guy solely as a friend. He wasn’t some rock-god. He was the guy I watched Blazing Saddles with before doing homework.

If you think dating multiple members of the same band makes for some awkward practice drop-ins, let me tell you it’s nothing compared to being one of hundreds of other girls at shows waiting to see them. As they swoon and snap photos, it’s hard not to shout, “He is my boyfriend. MINE. We’re dating. Just wanted you to know. Thanks.” I’m not saying every female in the audience is hoping to bag a member after the show. When single I never went to a show just for the guy-factor or hoped I was going to hook up with someone after. But usually after a set I found myself thinking “oh, that one was kind of cute,” so I know it’s hard to resist the seemingly instinctual attraction to what’s on stage.  And any flattery of having all those girls gawk at your boyfriend ends faster than a Blink 182 song.

But don’t worry if those shouts happen to come out during a moment of weakness, because you won’t seem like the unjustified crazy for long. Sadly, even the good guys let the groupies of their unsigned, half-assed after school band go to their head. Most, lets say 95%, of them will end up giving you an actual reason to be jealous.

You might think you landed the sensitive rocker. I ran into my fair share of these guys in college, whether they were at a house party with their guitar or moping around the dorms. They’re the guys who were in shitty screamo bands in high school that learned to play the game once they graduated. They walked around in tight jeans and fitted cardigans, which they still don in their current stop in Hipsterville. In college they used to look like Johnny Lang and sing what sounded to be Lifehouse covers. Now they look a little more like Andrew VanWyngarden and play songs written by Ryan Adams.

Ladies, beware. There’s a reason so many singers try acting. They’re so used to rehearsed lines coming out of their mouth that the ones they pitch to you are almost always recycled. Also, please keep in mind that those somewhat profound, lovey-dovey lyrics that keep running through your head aren’t about you. They’re about some ex-girlfriend who dumped him for a football player in high school. Or maybe they’re about his dog. Actually, guys like him don’t even have a dog because they’re too self obsessed to care about anyone but themselves and their own success. They certainly won’t care enough about your relationship to stay loyal. You’ll start to see incriminating photos on the internet, text messages from girls in other towns and rumors of sexual harassment (I wish I were joking about the last one). Don’t let their sugary sincere excuses fool you. “The show didn’t end until 11 last night and then the bus broke down and then we had to walk 10 miles to find someone to fix it and then our roadie’s bunny died and then we had to bury it. So, really, sweetie, yesterday was a hard day for me, so lay off, could ya?” or “The girl on my lap was the drummer’s sister. God, Erika, would I really date someone who is the sibling of someone I consider my brother? That’s practically incest! Those photos of us kissing on her MySpace? You know I kiss my mother the same way!”

Get out. Get out now.

Except lets say you don’t want to actually date the guy. Say you’re fine being the drummer’s sister that’s sitting on his lap posting kissy photos all over MySpace. You know, the one he bangs that night and doesn’t talk to until the next time he passes into town. Whether you’re drunk, desperate or plain promiscuous (hey, we’re all adults, I can dig it), I’m telling you it’s not in your best interest to invite this guy over or spend an extra hour or two in his bunk on the bus. Not because it’s slutty or even because you might catch something, but because it’s almost never as good as you think it’ll be. Much like hearing Third Eye Blind live for the first time, the performance under the sheets will be a let down.

Nine times out of 10, band guys aren’t good in bed. Why do you ask? Because they never had to be. The passion you see on stage does not translate to the sack. It’ll be one-sided, messy and over quickly. It”ll be like “Dammit” or “All the Small Things,” without the rhythm and simplistic fun. Sure, you’ll see the same sweaty forehead and John Mayer-like facial expressions that were onstage earlier that night, but this time you won’t be asking for an encore. Next time go down the street from the venue and pick up the guy walking to his car. Yeah, that one. Take him home instead.

Unless– and I say this with much hesitation– he happens to be different. He falls into that 5% of adorably humble good-natured guys who just happen to love playing music. Out of all of the musicians I’ve dated only one has fallen into this category. One.

My serious college boyfriend, who we’ll call Exciting Taco (don’t ask), was easily one of the best guys I’ve ever dated. He was witty, smart, slightly kooky and unwaveringly loyal. Don’t get me wrong, Exciting Taco wasn’t without faults, but none of them stemmed from the fact he played music. As far as band boyfriends go, he was easily the most wonderful and certainly the most talented. He’ll probably get famous one day in a Bob Dylan meets Beck type of way, and I’ll be all bitter and you’ll get an entry full of hate, but as for now I have nothing but great things to say.

But let me reiterate: this is NOT the norm. It didn’t happen to me before Exciting Taco and it hasn’t happened to me after. Last year I had a short fling with a guy out here in Los Angeles who was part of a band that actually seemed to be on the road to making it before they abruptly broke up. He was sexy, quiet, had great hair and graduated from a high ranked East Coast university. Perfect! Or so I thought. But going to his shows and looking at the girls trying to get his attention made me feel like I was in high school all over again. What am I doing? I thought. I’ve been here before, and it’s not worth it. We hung out a couple of times, and it was fun, but I knew it nothing would ever come from it.

What I want you to take away from this is not, in fact, that I am some scorned groupie, but that I feel your pain. I know how easy it is to fall for the sexy guy with the microphone or even the seemingly dorky guy on keyboard. Like many of you, I’ve been there. I just want you to learn from your mistakes–from those wasted daydreams of a Followill brother, the letdown in Conor Oberst’s bus or the pursuit of something more than a one-sided relationship with an egomaniac drummer.

And for those girls who haven’t yet made those mistakes, even better, you get to learn from mine.

Coyote Shivers, “Sugarhigh”
Presidents of the United States of America, “Lump”
3 Comments leave one →
  1. Kori permalink
    March 31, 2010 6:11 am

    Mmmm I love this. HEAR HEAR – so effing true.

  2. Sara Ansari permalink
    March 31, 2010 4:27 pm

    Love the Almost Famous and Jesse Lacey pics. You did kind of sound like a scorned groupie, but then you wrapped it up and I know better. So…I like it. GOOD DAY.

  3. gabriella permalink
    April 30, 2010 11:01 pm

    My fiance is in a band and he’s the only band guy I dated who didn’t cheat on me! tho the rest were when I was in HS. Those guys are bad news LOL but I love my fiance and he’s amazin!! Maybe you’ll meet the band guy of your dreams =)

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