LIFE IS HARD. It seems like every new day brings a new question that, try as you might, you’re just unable to find an answer for. The Smoking Jacket understands this, and we’re here to help. TSJ’s editor, Melissa Bull, and Headshots columnist, Mike Spry, set aside some time in their busy schedules to answer your questions in a feature we’ve cleverly named “Ask TSJ.”
This week’s incredible question comes from our a friend in need in Maryland. And you know what they say about a friend in need is a friend indeed. What does that even mean? Have parents stopped saying that yet?
I keep dating bass players. My friends make fun of me, but I can’t help it. I like the way they move their heads when they play — so sexy, the rhythmic bopping. I know need to branch out but I never meet anyone else. Only bass players, really, except the time I dated my boyfriend’s best friend, who was a drummer. But we didn’t really date.
What should I do?
So you only date bass players, and once you “went down on a drummer in the alley behind the rehearsal space.” Okay. Your friends should make fun of you. Bass players are a surefire sign of a larger issue, and the drummer dalliance only compounds the notion that you have a serious problem. My guess, using everything I learned from my Psych minor from DeVry, is that you are experiencing one of the following:
If I was a betting man, I’d say it’s a bit of all three.
I’ve never dated one of them pigeon-necked bass players, myself. Have I ever dated a drummer? Lemme think. I don’t think so. Though I helped an ex carry a drum all the way from Colombia to Montreal, once. It was all perfectly legal, I assure you.
This one time my swanky relatives mistakenly thought my beautiful, six-foot tall roommate was my lady love, my father tried to step in and dissuade them by explaining he couldn’t keep track of how many musician dudes I’d dated. So instead of seeming like a nice, monogamous lesbian, they thought I was a trashy groupie whore. Thanks, Pa!
But it’s true I’ve fallen for musicians ever since music camp, and brass players. I come from a long line of musically-inclined wooers, after all. My grandfather met my grandmother when she was playing piano in a country band. He asked if the piano player could take some time out to dance. Isn’t that romantic? You know it. That’s how we roll.
There are a lot of good things that come from dating musicians: Free shows, watching the person you dig be all talented on stage, the fact that they’re good at something creative being nice and badass, hobnobbing with yokles who used to be in Arcade Fire, etc.
What I’m trying to say, Lorrie, is musicians are great to date and I’m all for it. The good part of the rhythm section you’re jiving: They’re more chill, less neurotic, less look-at-me than a lead singer type. The bad side: I mean, let’s face it — they’re second fiddle.
Ever try one of them young computer player boo-bop electronic geeks? They’re cute. Or a Classical something? Or dabble in the jazz? You’re gonna def wanna expand the repertoire, Lorrie-beans, or things is gonna get my-boyfriend’s-best-friend-in-the-alley saturated pretty quick.
Bottom line, though: Start plucking your own strings. That ain’t no euphemism, even if it sounds like a cheeky one. You clearly dig music. Play some for yourself. Start your own garage band. Give yourself some jollies. Make the boys flock to hear YOU play for a change.
Got a question for Melissa and Mike? CLICK HERE and fire away. If we use it… your life will improve immediately.
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