Aside from and annoying quasi-hip-hop preamble that
inexplicably featured the six-letter f-word, Die Antwoord kicked my ass. I was
sitting next to Mister Hazel Eyes, his arm protectively around me, feeling the
strangest and most interesting aftercare sensation—it was like I was bottoming
to the music. It reminded me of when I’d go to raves in the 90s, generally
sober except for the occasional acid trip, I was almost always satisfied to get
high on dancing, and this night reminded me of the fluffy, sparkly feeling
I’d get during the fourth or fifth hour of dancing, when the music was part of
my body and all I had to do was give in to it and keep going. It felt like
surrender, and it was delicious then and now.
Between sets, I sat in MHE’s lap and made out with him
obnoxiously. Why yes, we ARE in our LATE thirties, but it was so much fun to be
all over each other like horny teenagers. When I went to get up from his lap,
he said
“Did I tell you you could get up?”
My eyes got wide and I laughed my head off, so glad to stay
put.
“What’s so funny?” He said it a little poutishly, but his
pretty eyes were shining and not threatening in the least.
“I’m just happy. This is me being happy.”
Okay, so, as I said before, Jane’s Addiction was my favorite
band as a teenager and they have a very special place in my heart, the lullaby
songs especially: Classic Girl and Jane
Says. I like the rollicking songs too, but the pretty songs have always
made me feel so understood and loved.
He seemed to understand this. When they started to play Jane
Says, he stopped being all grabby-sexy and just held me sort of…tenderly. I
thought of all the different ways I’d heard this song, all of the different
contexts, all of the many versions of myself, and I decided that this is the
best version. I’m proud of how far I’ve come. When Perry Farrell sang “Jane
says she ain’t never been in love, she don’t know what it is, she only knows if
someone wants her.” (Which felt true in my teenage years but hasn’t been true
for such a long time. Talk about an assessment.) he pulled me into a kiss that
was sweet and emphatic, and I felt myself really give in to it, to him, to the
romance of the moment, to whatever I might be with him. I grabbed the back of
his neck and just pulled him as close as I could. The decades of want and need
since the song came out felt, at least for that moment, fulfilled.
And then I thought: “Uh-oh. This is meaningful. I’m
experiencing cathexis during this meaningful thing. I’m letting him in.”
Recognizing that was scary, but I think that kind of metacognition (or meta-emotion?)
is a good sign. In the past, I’ve formed attachments and not recognized them,
reacting in a fight-or-flight way instead. So this is progress. Scary progress,
but still.
I love the way that we played with each other during the
rest of the concert. He held me in front of him and gave me bites gently down
my neck and back. His hands meandered on the borders of inappropriate, but in
kind of a sweet way. We sat down and I ran my hands over his thighs, grazing
things I really wanted to grab.
After the show I climbed into his lap in the driver’s seat,
cradled in his arms. I took out my pigtails so that he could get a good grip on
the back of my hair. He gave me a few spanks but he didn’t have good leverage.
We kissed and kissed and kissed and he said things like “I love your eyes.”
(Afraid of that particular word, I said, I like yours too.”) and (!):
“You are so fucking beautiful.” I felt fucking beautiful,
let me tell you.
I wanted him to kiss me all night but he wanted to get me
back to Sweetie at a reasonable hour. As he drove me home, I plugged in my iPod
(Who’s acting like they own the place now?) and played I Would for You the
only lullaby favorite they hadn’t played. Then I played a whole bunch of dreamy
covers. I just can’t say how much I didn’t
want that night to be over.
As we were saying goodbye, he got adorably/worryingly
wistful: “Tell (Sweetie) she’s a lucky lady.”
I’m pretty lucky too. If I can just surrender to NRE like
I surrendered to Die Antwoord, I think I’ll be fine.