The Rock Stars Have Left The Building

I have a friend named Jill who in college used to swoon over the idea of a rock star boyfriend and we would all mock her because Jill is beautiful and silly and totally the kind of girl that boys fall head over heels in love for, but none of those boys are rock stars. They play trombone in the marching band. They love Final Fantasy. They contribute the requisite $20 a month to NPR. They do not rock. And it's just as well, Jill would hate the pretension of a real rock star boyfriend. She'd hate the wife beaters and the muscle cars and the nonchalance. And most of all she'd probably hate his music.

It's easy to see why we all deep down want a rock star boyfriend. Someone to write moony songs about how the sunlight catching in our hair makes them want to rip our panties off. Someone so passionate about life that it oozes out of him into song. Someone who looks good in leather pants. Friday night while at The Hold Steady concert I gave my friend Jason 60/40 odds on me being willing to sleep with any of the guys in the band despite having no idea what they looked like. I already half love them for their crazy ranting rock and roll so I figured they'd have to reach new heights of fug to turn me off. They were, as Jason had warned, oldish (defined as "even older than us."). One of them looked remarkably like Chuck Klosterman who we all know I'd sleep with, but not because he's hot. Yet after a few rounds of bopping around the stage and screaming into the mikes I was sold. Panties? dropped.

I didn't sleep with the band which is probably fortuitous since last night between sets Jason and I stumbled upon a disturbing truth. If you date a rock star you have to love his music. Ok, maybe not if he's just "jamming" with friends on the weekends, everyone knows that dudes who use the term "jamming" don't deserve love. But if he's in a real band that plays gigs and shit? You have to be into it. You have to go to all of his 1am Tuesday night shows at Arlene's Grocery. You have to think his fedora looks hot. You have to smile sweetly when he spends a grand of your vacation fund on a new set of bongo drums. You're thinking, no problem! Surely your boyfriend is sexy and brilliant and totally rocks, right? Unfortunately probably not, I suspect that 95% of bands suck. On top of that there are lots of good bands who I don't love regardless of their talent. In fact there are whole musical genres that I doubt I could get behind even if their most talented and sexy front man were to proposition me.

No other occupation demands so strongly that its practitioners find significant others willing to be swear devotion to their craft. If you're a lawyer you do not expect your boyfriend to sit in the courtroom swooning at your every objection. Professor's girlfriends are never asked to listen attentively to recorded lectures. None of my former boyfriends have been caught beating off to my project plans.

After thinking this through I'm shocked that rock star boys have any luck at all when it comes to matters of the heart. Since it is well documented that only 5% of bands are legitimately worth listening to (See paragraph 3) one has to assume that most girlfriends of rockers are either delusional or liars and since I am neither I now happily lay down the dream of the rock star boyfriend.