Songs for the Dumped
As I've written about before, I used to DJ at my college radio station. We were a fairly incestuous bunch: This Guy dates This Girl, but he used to date That Girl, who dated This Other Guy, and so on.
One day, during the spring of my freshman year, one of the senior DJs asked me out. Ooooo, I thought, an older man! He asked me if I wanted to go see Basic Instinct (yeah, there's a great date movie!) and I accepted. On a Friday night, we went out to eat and watched Sharon Stone expose her hoo-ha. At the end of our date, he asked me to go to a radio station party with him on Saturday. Ooooo...awesome! Are we going steady?
So, that following night, he picked me up and drove me to an off-campus party. He brought some cheap beer, and I quickly got buzzed.
Then I walked outside...and lo and behold, what do I lay my eyes on? My date making out with some other girl. What the fuck? Now, as I said, about 1 1/2 sheets to the wind, so I decide to get to three as soon as possible. So I went and raided his stock of cheap ass beer and soon I'm blitzed. I sat down on the couch, trying to understand what the fuck happened, which was very difficult in my state of inebriation.
Soon thereafter, this other blitzed guy, whom I vaguely knew from the station, sits down next to me and starts kissing me! (He had briefly dated the girl that my date was making out with, so I guess it was a revenge move, like the way I was drinking the PBR or whatever rotgut I was guzzling.) Then he got up from the couch and puked all over the floor. This is the kicker: the girl that stole my would-be boyfriend was hosting this party, so she had to clean up that mess. Ha! That's what you get you little harlot!
The part that sucked most was that I was left without a ride home. My couch make-out buddy was in no condition to drive, so some other radio station guy (who, it turns out, I found out later, had a crush on me) did the honors of driving my drunk ass back to the dorm.
Of course, my would-be boyfriend's not blameless, and from what others told me later, he was quite a womanizer. Here's the story's resolution: the guy I was making out with on the couch would later--and I'm talking a couple years later--would end up being my boyfriend. (I told you we were an incestuous bunch.) The jackass womanizer and his little harlot got married. He's now an ambulance chaser lawyer (seriously). So I guess it worked out for them. Goody.
One more anecdote within the anecdote: A few months after this incident, I was in a mall parking lot with my mother. Who's approaching us from the opposite direction? The happy couple! Oh, noes. I audibly whisper to my mom, "Oh, shoot, that's [jerk's name and jerk's floozy's name]." Now, Mom had no idea who the heck these two people were, and I sure as hell wasn't going to tell her about my underage drinking antics and make-out sessions with guys I barely knew, but anyway, I guess she thought she'd say "hi" to the happy couple!
"Hi [jerk's name and jerk's floozy's name]!" she said enthusiastically, as they passed by.
I could have died from embarrassment.
Jerk was a big grunge fan--shit, I should have known the relationship would have been doomed--and he HATED that late 80s/early 90s alternative pop that so many of his grunge-loving cronies did. So, this is for you, jackass!
Beautiful South, "36D" and "Let Love Speak Up Itself"
Jerk wrote on the cover sheet for the CD on which "36D" appears, "This adult contemporary music sucks." Uh, what the fuck?
Frazier Chorus, "Dream Kitchen" and "Cloud 8"
This gloriously twee band also incurred Jackass's wrath. I never knew why they were more popular. Hmmm, could it have been they got lost in all the grunge hoopla? We grunge-haters like to blame all the underexposure of our favorite 90s alternative bands on the grunge movement.