August 3, 1999

Every time she sees a guitar laying innocently in its case anywhere near a man she’s involved with those old feelings of jealousy rev up inside her. She thought she’d gotten past it. Now he shows up with his Moog and his 8 track and no explanation and her heart sinks again, different man, same problem.

Of course he doesn’t need to give and explanation, his stuff, his room, and he’s way different from the last guy, so it won’t be the same as last time, but still…

All the stuff was at his best friend’s house before seven this morning so she naively thought she and the demon could live in separate worlds, the music demon that is. Yes he’s possessed by it, as half of North America’s men aged 15-25 seem to be. So was boyfriend ‘A.’

All the time she spent wandering around music stores admiring, yet secretly hating, all those guitars, cases, picks, and strings because when it came down to it all that meant more to him than she did. He’d go home with her, she’d want attention, and he’d have the nerve to get out one of his many instruments or turn on the computer to mess with some Midi. Once again she’d be left alone staring off into space, bored, exclaiming pseudo praise while trying her best to look supportive and interested.

Her stomach is clenched again with that familiar jealous, worried feeling. As it stands every time they go somewhere he puts his guitar lovingly into the backseat of the car. Is this doomed to end the same way? Is this going to be a repeat of the same tired saga?

Boyfriend ‘B’ seems like he could be different. He learned some new chords to play a song especially for her and is infinitely sweet. He’s so much more giving and loving. Maybe he’d even let her help sometime at the business or technical end of his burgeoning career, or at least let her press some buttons and feel useful. She’s not totally foreign to the land of writing and recording. Now it seems this equipment is sitting in the corner glaring at her, taunting her, knowing she despises it and that no one else has any idea.

How can she feel so much physical repulsion and so much negative energy against something so inanimate? Something that he loves so much, is that it? Is it really inanimate? Something that holds such power over him, that creates such emotion in a listener? Provokes such artistry in a creator?

Maybe she needs to help herself by diving into her own hobbies to replace those feelings of neglect with accomplishment. Hmmm, needlepoint and crocheting just don’t have the same effect. Writing, pen and paper. She speaks to the paper, it speaks back, not quite as melodically as his guitar or drum machine speak to him, but it makes her as happy when a story writes itself and she can look upon it and be proud.

She puts the pen down, then what, a resurgence of that jealousy? She could ring the neck of that guitar and smash that keyboard to pieces with her pinky she’s sure. All these years of pent up aggression ready to spew forth. Writing this now she’s beginning to feel calmer, beginning to realize that she’s not jealous anymore, that she sees both herself and the music as important.

Boyfriend ‘A” was semi horrible at making music. One of those guys who can play what everyone else has constructed and that’s it, no original creativity to speak of. One of those guys that sits at home and laments over his tortured soul; his soon to be rock god like stardom and does nothing productive. Boyfriend ‘B’ is creative, writing, producing, and engineering his own songs that sound really good. He’s filled with the drive and determination that could take him far in any path he chooses.

Logically now I can see he moved his equipment home so he can work whenever his creative juices are flowing. This instead of driving across town only to find a house full of people at his friend’s place, not really conducive to working. He wants to make music his life. He might have a chance if his work gets out to the right people. He is different from boy ‘A’ because he is a man, so she must give him the benefit of the doubt. He’s also had his music to turn to a lot longer than he’s had her, and the music never hurts him, as she’s been known to do occasionally. Just the way she is with her writing.

She’s only one of millions of music widows out there. What was it that Mom warned all of us girls about? Never get involved with a musician? She didn’t even know the half of it.

Author’s Note: Boyfriend ‘B’ is completely different. The author has successfully entered and enjoyed multiple visits to music stores with him. The equipment went back to his friend’s place shortly after he brought it home, he used it but did not ignore her in the process. After writing this story she realized that with this man jealousy of his guitar was completely unnecessary. She never did feel neglected sharing him with the demon, which incidentally doesn’t seem so evil anymore. The author even reveres the instrument now and enjoys listening to him and his band practice. She is truly supportive and interested in his musical endeavors. She has even tried to learn, to no avail, how to play a few times. One widow rehabilitated so many more to go.