This is my truth tell me yours

Nigel Tufnel: And, uh, it was tragic, really. He exploded on stage.

– ‘This is Spinal Tap’, 1984

I’m confused. I only want one truth.

This is a weird one. It’s been sitting in ‘My Drafts’ for quite some time. Do I write this?  How do I write this?

Riddle me this? Or name the name?

Of course, it’ll be denied. I know the game.

I’ve been ruled by secrecy. For far too long.

Truth is in the eye of its beholder.  Well, it can also sometimes find its way to YouTube.

Don’t go looking for it. I’ve already checked. I looked forward to the rewind. A different angle. A different perspective. I narrowed it down to two songs. Fate (or bad cellphone footage) has conspired to ensure that the video of proof doesn’t exist. Or just hasn’t been uploaded.  

No, it’s not about the drummer. It’s the guitarist. The front-person.

The truth is out there. An X-file?

It’s complicated. And a-muse-ing.

Yes, it’s Matt Bellamy. Muse front-person.


I was.

Riddles are for ‘Turandot’.

This is a post I didn’t think I’d ever write.  Far too quiet and private.

This little story will be…. selective. And what’s in it will be ‘it’. Nothing more.  I don’t uh, kiss and tell.

I was ‘cold’ when I first saw Muse a few months ago. A last-minute decision. Was unfamiliar with the band. Somehow off my music radar until earlier this year. British, alternative, so why not.  Sample something new. Saved me from an evening of reworking a screenplay that wasn’t really working. Writer’s block. Strangely, I felt pushed to go to the concert. And went alone.

The evening got very weird. Very fast. At first, I wondered why I was there. I still do.

I recognized Matt Bellamy. I was surprised to see him. To this day, I’ve never been able to place exactly ‘where’ or ‘when’ we’ve met before. I did the homework. Google has been unexpectedly evil.

My seat was at the side of the stage. Probably around 20 or so feet away from the band. Almost eye-level. 

I was dressed gig-appropriate. Casual. Dressed down from normal. 

The flirting/the come-on was textbook at first.  The last page wouldn’t be a surprise. 

I thought nothing of the first time we connected. Unexpected. Probably about a half-hour or so in. A brief ‘moment’. Harmless, fun, and enjoyable. Flattering. And it continued. Regular visits to where I was, the ‘losing’ it with each look, moments spent composing himself after. A visible lack of concentration.  Being distracted. Throughout the show. Who was this man, really? Did he recognize me too? Was he smitten? Something ‘heat of the moment’?  A player? I thought not. The vibe I got was ‘I want you to approach me, to meet me and to know me’. No misinterpretation. Classic alpha male body language, for this alpha female.  Been there, done that. Far too many times.

Amazing, electric mutual chemistry.

And then Matt did something truly spectacular. Yes, he is greatly gifted in terms of his guitar and piano talent.  This, however, was pure Spinal Tap magic. Matt Bellamy has intense, beautiful eyes. And it could have been such a beautiful moment. Until, well…

No, I’m not talking the 18 inch high Stonehenge. Or the Dancing Druids.

Eyes meet and lock across a crowded room, you’re the only two people in that room for that long, amazing moment. Well, there were 10,000 or more people there, some of whom were watching, intently. Time just seemed to stop. I started to feel nauseous and broke the gaze. He then almost came crashing down. One or two more seconds, and ‘thunk’. Rock star meets stage. Unceremoniously. Unplanned. Part of me was wondering, is he going to faint?  Is he going to collapse?  Is he going to fall off the stage? A bruise, yes; concussion, perhaps. Anything else, very bad. Matt, you certainly know how to impress a woman. I don’t get the sense that this happens regularly. Or has ever happened. You were totally out of it and a complete mess. I never would have lived it down. Pretty blonde fells guitarist. A dubious accomplishment. Actually, I’d have been the one laughing hysterically. You’d have made my week, no, my month. Probably my year. Best.Gig. Ever.

I’m jaded. I’ve seen it all. Even though the ‘thunk’ didn’t happen, what did was…. Quite the gesture.  Endearing. Twisted, but brilliant. Unforgettable.

I wasn’t feeling all that well at that point, either, but I did watch you pull yourself together. Recover your balance, shake yourself off, struggle to compose yourself to finish the concert. You were tucked away at the side of the stage. I don’t know if many people witnessed it.

Matt, you did reach my ‘line’ – of sorts. There is a fine line between flattery and making a woman uncomfortable. I do have a high stare threshold. I was becoming uncomfortable. In that it was far too public. From what went on, I did expect the courtesy of at least a ‘hi’. A nice, warm, inviting smile.  Silly me. That’s what normally occurs. In a bar or club.  There was a large audience. All that was missing was a spotlight shining on me. Putting me up on the stage with you. I did smile. A slight one.  A few smiles throughout the evening. Maybe it was too dark or not well-lit enough to notice. A huge grin would have been inappropriate.

And no, I wasn’t going to wait outside in the cold for a couple of hours (what I learned was the standard wait-time). Up to a half-hour, yes. That was fair and normal in terms of gigs. Given what went on, any more of a wait was incredibly rude and disrespectful to me. I waited around for a bit. I didn’t have the day off the next day and had to be at work within a few hours.

I didn’t know or care who you were.  I wasn’t starstruck. Every man I meet gets the same five minutes to ‘make it or break it’ with me. It’s who you are after those five minutes that matters.

I don’t know what to make of you, exactly. I am clouded. First impressions are funny.  And lasting. This is purely a communications failure. And hopefully a simple misunderstanding. It was real on my end. Honest. No games. No agenda. A surprise for me. Unexpected. It seemed real on your end too.

I was the only person you looked at that evening.  I noticed it.  It was obvious. I was also the most objective person in the audience. A rarity. Noticing only the person behind the persona.  Just the guessing game of trying to figure you out. Based on recognizing you from somewhere, a couple of sentences of crappy stage banter, and body language.  I liked the man I saw. Instantly. I wanted to get to know him.  Something about you seemed…. special.  Worth my time and attention.

One more stare without any attempt by you to say ’hello’ and I probably would never listened to you or your music again. Turned off. Walked out of the arena. Offended to the point of having little interest in listening to any of the music catalogue. Changing radio stations any time a Muse song came on. At that point, you do have a staring problem.  One perhaps one of perceived ‘entitlement’. No, you wouldn’t notice one less ‘fan’.

There are probably thousands of women who would kill for what I got from you.

The entire evening ‘weirded’ me out.  The strangest ‘flirting’ I’ve ever encountered. You seemed ‘freaked out’ by my very presence. I didn’t know why. Baffling. The evening left me with many questions.

And low odds of getting any satisfactory answers.

I did some online digging, hoping to find them. That didn’t happen. Nothing that I didn’t already surmise. Only the standard answer of ‘no audience interaction’. Even New Music Express did an article on the subject.

I attended another show in late October. To attempt to get my answers. To resolve whatever this is/was.

A rational, intelligent woman. Who was perplexed by what occurred, who wanted to know ‘why’. Yes, what happened between us was an amazing compliment. But there was always the ‘what if’ on my end. A mystery that may never be solved.

I don’t have a life where I can take off whenever I please, to wherever I please.  I’m limited. The North American leg of the tour ended a couple of weeks after the show in my city. I tried to find a concert date that worked for me and to make contact. To lift my cloud. To maybe like the band, the music, and you, Matthew. To figure out where we met before. I did listen to the rest of the catalogue, eventually. About a month before the repeat.  Between the ‘weirdness’ of that night and my mental giggles of seeing the ‘almost-thunk ’ any time I heard the albums, it was a tough listen.

I did get your attention that October evening, along with everyone else in the band.  I still don’t know if I am a ‘fan’. Undecided.

You came across as more arrogant and aloof that evening. No audience interaction. Disinterested. A soulless show. Well, perhaps it was the drummer’s night to talk.

I ended up waiting around in the cold for quite some time. I didn’t want to get sick, so I left after about 2 hours.  I had business to finish, and I had every intention of concluding it. You did see me – I was in the matching silver outfit. We had several seconds of direct eye contact. Again, the only person in the audience who got a glance. I wish I had a better seat.

It’s still unfinished.

I fully expect that our paths will cross again some day.

And that I’ll get my ‘hi’. And that this seeker will find her answers.

Well, this is my ‘hi’.

The X file, X-290310, remains open.


~ by hooklineandthinker on November 16, 2010.

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