So, I’m pretty sure I’ve made this clear already, but I have a vagina. My particular model is an oldie but a goodie, and comes equipped with several features. Most of the features are completely awesome and make it totally worthwhile (the 2 minute orgasm is a crowd favorite and always will be), but the one feature I HATE? Ridiculously stupid romantic ideals. I didn’t sign up for this, I’m pretty sure it’s not listed anywhere in the warranty guide, and about 5 years ago, I decided I had had enough of my vaginal emotions and their pesky bullshit, so while I couldn’t put them away and be done with them completely, I opted for a tune up.
I wish I could stop talking about my vagina like an appliance.
Truth of the matter.
I used to be stupid idealistic. I wanted what most women and all men want; a happy ending (except a lady’s happy ending will never involve massage oil and a tiny Korean that speaks no English). I wanted my prince charming to whisk me away and say romantic things and buy me flowers and basically fill my life with tender snippets that I would one day lovingly share with my grandchildren as we sat on our wrap around veranda staring at the glorious sunsets of Prince Edward Island (I was a HUGE Anne of Green Gables Fan, ok? It’s the only reason I ever saw myself winding up in Canada) and drinking homemade tea. The crapshoot is, for awhile I actually had a man who was just as fucking lame as I was. He told me we were soul mates and he bought me flowers and put them in wacky places to surprise me and he played me music on his guitar because he was just so fucking sensitive and now I’m beginning to think HE had a vagina. Anyway, long story short, that blew up in my face and started me down a steady, unwavering path of being an outwardly jaded whore that is actually seriously squishy on the inside.
Before John and I were together, and during, and for a little while after, my love song of choice that I felt was the epitome of what love should feel like was Elton John’s The One. Don’t judge me, I still love that song. I was listening to it one day with my mom and she looks at me and goes, who do you think of when you hear this song? I screwed up my silly brains and pinched my face with concentration and said “Not a damn soul.” And that’s when I decided that my ideals needed to go away, because they were bothering me.
And they did.
I am now ideal free, which is nice. Not to say I don’t have dreams and standards, because I love the main squeeze more than anything and I do not for a second feel like I’ve compromised or something better might be floating around out there somewhere, waiting for me. I know there isn’t.
And now to the juice!
Today’s subject is……….is……..IS…….
A REAL LIFE LOVE SONG FOR REAL LIFE PEOPLE
Song : Abusing the Rib
This song is jealous and imperfect and intense and everything that a real love song should be. The first time I heard it, the main squeeze told me he was putting it on a CD for me and that he thought of me when he listened to it now. This was before he was the official main squeeze and he was just my main guy friend that I harbored fairly intense feelings for. This song has a hook like you wouldn’t believe, and very possibly one of the best lines of love song history.
This is not your typical love song, so if you are looking for the smooth stylings of…uh…some romantic crooner, you’re going to be shocked when you hear this. It’s turbulent and moody and dark and possessive and incredibly raw and it is a staple of my listening collection. To me, THIS is how love feels. It feels angry and bitter and complex and hateful and consuming, and that’s completely the tone set by this song. It’s all wrapped up in this “I fucking love you so much” packaging that is hard to resist.
If you have a problem with thinking that most love songs are just candy coated versions of a story land that will never exist for you, give Atmosphere a try. It’s good shit, and I feel pretty ok with using this song as one of the primary songs that defines my relationship with the main squeeze.