There's this older songwriter dude who I've been watching since we moved to Nashville. I don't know his story. I can only guess he’s not had success in songwriting as he plugs uneasily away at the same two songs every time. And my heart hurts every time. His hope for success seems to be an unreachable target and his unending belief that it will happen, a painful disaster to watch. It’s like that here for me; I soar on the hopes of songwriters and crash at their unrealistic dreams. An exhilarating and totally depressing roller coaster ride to be on.
Last night Songwriter Dude sang a new song that he said was about “a happy romantic relationship. Not that I've ever had one.” And that bleak statement, said so casually and with such naked sadness, had me crying over my half orange juice half seven-up. I am, at times, just blue that he thinks, as so many others here do, that he'll have success some day. That someone will pick his song out of the litter of millions and make his dreams come true when those odds are so very slim. It doesn’t seem to bother him that the deck is stacked against him but I ache for him and all the others. That kind of blind hope may be painful to watch but never having a happy romantic relationship – well, that just slays me dead. That Songwriter Dude has never had a happy romantic relationship and that he may never know that special joy is utterly disheartening. That he may never have that sickening drop of his heart into his belly when the one he loves leans closer and the world freezes in time as he waits for that kiss. That his day might not suddenly get brighter because he hears her voice or sees her goofy smile. That he may never get that silly little gift, that nonsensical note or text that lets him know that he’s been on her mind. That possibility of affection, that dare to hope, has gotten me through dark days and lonely nights. I wish for Songwriter Dude a happy romantic relationship more than I wish for him some musical success. They both may not be lasting but the imprint on your heart from a happy love lasts longer than the wonder of fame. And I am fully aware that this may not be what he wants. Perhaps the thought of loving someone terrifies him and he’s happier alone. That fame might be the tattoo he craves, the only scar he wants to leave this world with. It’s likely why he can do what he does, night after night, round after round, rejection after rejection. I can admire that tenacity while I morn the loss of romance for him. I can celebrate the love in in my own life; good times and bad, it has been happy. Good times and bad, there has been romance. Good times and bad, there has been love… Yeah, yeah, I should put that in a song.
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AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
April 2019
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