Interlude #1: ”Alameda”—Elliott Smith.
“Nobody broke your heart
You broke your own ‘cos you can’t finish what you start”
My mom said to me today, “You always seem to get involved with the same kind of guy.” I laughed, dismissing this as an attempt at amateur psychology, most likely gleaned from copious amounts of Lifetime viewing.
But a second later, the giggling was replaced with a sigh of despair. ”You’re right…I’m just a sucker for a sad story.” That’s why I have three cats. A huge collection of wacky friends. I buy the dying plants at the grocery store because I know they just need some love. I have literally nursed a bird with a broken wing back to health.
And so the sad fellows with their tales of rejection and tragedy have me at moment one. I will gladly accept months or years of mind games and superfluous drama, all in the name of love and compassion.
I’m a dented can. A scratched mirror. A pair of “irregular” jeans. I’m never going to judge someone for being less than perfect. I have hideous scars and volumes of nightmares.
These broken boys, with their mountainous baggage and perceived failure are the ones that really kill me. I can barely bring myself to kiss a calm, confident male more than once. But after they shed a few tears, I’m ready to jump into bed with them (and stay there forever).
Of course these fellows, so sad and broken, are the ones that will make me cry. And cry and cry. And so, I congratulate you, the FOUR most (allegedly) damaged fellows I have dated, for being the only ones to really move me to tears. Your certificate and commemorative mug are in the mail. Special kudos to the one who got me to sob until I vomited (when he moved to another country) and the one that made me weep so uncontrollably, that I had to cover my mouth with my hand so I could hold in the tears in order to safely drive my car. You know that I’m much less tough than the mask I wear.
Furthermore: I’m not going to lie, every song Elliott Smith’s Either/Or reminds me of a different person I have loved and/or hated. If you don’t own it, you should acquire it immediately.
And lastly: I once dated the guy that allegedly inspired “Alameda.” His older sister (a 90s indie rock star) was good friends with Elliott Smith. I eventually stopped seeing him in favor of a really funny guy that I met at one of his shows. That didn’t pan out either, but it’s important to note that neither of them moved me to anything remotely resembling tears.
