I fell in love at the age of 12 with a man 12 years older than me. Don’t judge. Also, understand that this is not some creeper story about me being a child bride or some such nonsense. This love affair started when I saw a music video. Now, back in 1984, my house in a little rural town did not have cable, so no MTV. I had to rely on Friday Night Videos to get my fix. I was glued to the TV set from 12:30am until 2:00am every Friday night. Being home on a Friday night was not unusual. I was only 12, dear readers, clearly my clubbing days were in FRONT of me.
The music video in question was Duran Duran’s Hungry Like the Wolf. I already owned their album Rio on cassette and loved their music. I was well on my way to being a total new wave chick. Tears for Fears, Spandau Ballet, Icehouse, Depeche Mode, The Fixx, Talk Talk, INXS, U2, Naked Eyes, OMD, XTC, Pet Shop Boys, Echo and the Bunnymen. I loved them all. I loved the music. I loved the clothes. I loved the freaking STYLE. While the rest of my family was digging country music and many of my friends were adoring Bon Jovi, I was the weirdo with the asymmetrical haircut and velvet booties.
Now, back to my love affair. The man in question is the bass playing, founding member of Duran Duran, Nigel John Taylor, or John Taylor, or JT to those not in the know. He of the chiseled square chin and utterly gorgeous hair. He inspired a whole generation of girls to buy grey fedoras and to dye our bangs blonde(r). There’s definitely a pic of me in one of my mom’s photo albums circa 1985 cheesing it up in a grey fedora. I loved that damn hat and really wish I knew what became of it.
I mean… come on. Who could RESIST? (see what I did there?)
This man was quintessential rock star. I was hooked. I remain hooked. To visit my room anytime between 1984 and 1990 was to visit a shrine to this man and his band. I spent all my (not considerable) disposable income on issues of Star Hits, Teen Beat, any other teenybopper magazine that featured the band. I spent all day on July 13th, 1985 glued to the TV waiting for the band to play live. If you do not know what epic event occurred on that hot summer day, we cannot be friends. Seriously. That Live Aid performance marked the last time the original band would perform together until 2003.
I was heartbroken when the band broke up. And while I loved The Power Station and Arcadia (their offshoot projects), IT JUST WAS NOT THE SAME. I was delirious when three of them got back together. I wore out my copy of Notorious and just last week my mom sent me a recording of her car radio playing the title track. No No Notorious. It’s an ear worm she will never escape.
The next 18 years or so saw me remain a devoted fan. I bought every single album they released. I love them all. My suite-mates from freshman year of college will quickly tell you they got VERY sick of hearing “My Antarctica” through the super thin walls of Igoe Hall. Sorry not sorry MaryAnn and Margaret!
When John married a model/actress in 1991, who happened to be the same age as me, I thought, “well holy hell there might be a chance!” Haha. It was not to be so and later, he went and married the founder of Juicy Couture. I will admit to owning some of her stuff even though she has my man. But I debated the purchases a LOT.
I finally got to see them for the first time in summer 2000. Sadly, John had left the band at that time, so the concert was a bit bittersweet. But by 2003, all five original members were back together and touring. I was able to see them at a small venue in Cleveland and let me tell you, I lost my FUCKING MIND. It was everything.
Since that time, I’ve been lucky enough to see my rock god boyfriend and his band play live several more times. I usually purchase tickets on the left side of the venue to ensure the best possible view of John. The men in my life have also been along for the ride; my ex husband witnessed my meltdown at that 2003 show. He was always a great sport and enjoyed the band too, even though his tastes ran to more heavy metal. I always told him JT was my free pass. But it was cool; his was Jennifer Aniston.
The new man in my life has also gotten on board and understands (I think!) my love. When we had the opportunity to see them live last October, I asked him, “you love me, but do you love me enough to see my most favorite band in the planet and the other man I love live in concert?” The response, as I recall, was “fuck YES.” Fuck YES is his response to pretty much anything I ask. More on that another day. Needless to say, my man is fucking amazing.
Sidebar… at what age does it seem silly to call the man in your life “boyfriend?” I’m hardly a teenager. It cracks me up to refer to my man as boyfriend, but “lover boy” (as he’s known by my Waze app) and “beau” just seem silly. Partner is ok I guess. Maybe significant other? But holy hell, that’s a lot of syllables!
However delicious, delightful, and dreamy my current man is, a part of my heart will always belong to John Taylor. So, in conclusion, happy 65th birthday to my bass god. This invisible-resisting blonde will love you always. If I ever catch your eye while I’m dancing three rows back at your next show, I will probably pass out and need resuscitation. You’re 65, but you’re still a SNACK.
Play the fucking bass, John.
IYKYK.
Resist Invisible 