Thursday, July 12, 2012

Bad memories: It goes to 11

Sometimes I just can't help but dwell on the bad stuff. Andy will be upset, but he should know better than to try and censor me (not that he has). I just need to write.

Some years ago, Andy and I  were dating. His "BFF" was a girl named Jessica, a girl about whom I had heard from Andy every sickening detail in the months before we started seeing each other. He claimed to be over her, but even after we were established as a couple, he would try to ditch me to hang out with her, because ridiculously uncomfortable when Jessica and I would talk, and on the one and only Valentine's day we dated, he even tried to get away with going and hanging out with her. Maybe I am petty, and I know I am doing no one any favours by holding this shit in my mind, but I can't not. He was, without a doubt, the worst boyfriend I had ever had. He went along with everything she said: he started drinking because she is a drunk; he started listening to Iron Maiden because she thought they were awesome; he wrote songs about her and recorded them; he goofed around and joked with and cherished her in a way that he never did for me in the early months, and I somehow managed to earn the name "Succubus." He claims not to remember any of this, of course. But that's Andy. He edits the sad parts.

At any rate, he binged out on buying things that Jessica thought was cool, including "This is Spinal Tap." Trying to be an interested party and trying to break into his little world, to be close to him god forbid, I asked him if I couldn't watch it with him some time.

"You wouldn't get it," was the response.

He didn't want to share with me. I didn't push the issue, but ever since then, I have been annoyed while thinking about it. I was, to Jessica (his ultimate puppet master) weak, boring, and worst of all, controlling. I listened to Modest Mouse, Weezer, and Jimmy Eat World, and bands beneath Jessica's liking, bands that Andy himself introduced me to: Motion City Soundtrack, Death Cab for Cutie, early My Chemical Romance.

Let's digress for a moment. When I was 13 or so, I wanted nothing more than the full box set of Monkee memorabilia and Monty Python videos. A late-night infomercial revealed that I could get the latter of the two for only $20 or some shit. When I asked my mother for the Monty Python set, much to my surprise, she said yes. Unfortunately, I never saw the commercial again so never received the gift. Since then, I confess I have started to grimace whenever I hear someone shout "I FART IN YOUR GENERAL DIRECTION," mostly because it's just so... cliche. We get it. You've seen "The Holy Grail" so often you can recite it in your sleep. So can about 3/4 of the rest of the English-speaking population. It's like hearing a song too often and ending up feeling guilty that you once held it in high regard.

But I was raised on Monty Python and dry humour like that (aside: wtf is wet humour?). Absolutely Fabulous was one of my mother's favourite shows. Her Anglophilia knows no bounds. BBC was always on at my Nanny's (my mom's mom) house when we came to visit. If anyone in their early 20s would "get" Spinal Tap, it would have been me.

So I have this knee-jerk reaction whenever someone says "It goes to 11" one too many times or giggles at the sight or mention of stonehenge. I was never let in on the joke. I only know it from the sparse details I've seen in other movies, on random websites, and from hardcore fans of the movie. I still haven't seen it. I once told Andy how annoyed I was with him about this, and he tried to sit me down to watch it. I refused. It was too little too late.

So, yeah, carrying it around with me? Probably a bad idea. But I can't help it.

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