Thursday, September 25, 2008


Sometimes, when I come across an advice column in the paper or on the website I'm reading, I go through the complaints and wonder if whose being spoken of is someone I know. This is especially true for Reality Check in the Flagpole because I lived in Athens so long, I can almost recognize patterns of behavior in the townies who write in. I see folks I know behind every letter begging for advice.

But nothing, nothing hits as close to home as the first letter in today's Dear Prudence from Slate. Poor girl's boyfriend can't perform in the bedroom without blasting death metal music. Metalocalypse is getting a storyboard together right now.

So many of my friends grew up listening to metal, that I literally can't stop laughing at this. I'm a metal fan, too, but not in the same sphere as many of my friends. I know husbands who can't play certain CD's when wives are in the car. I know certain girls who had a difficult time finding the 'right man' because her taste in music was more extreme than all her dates. And I know the heavy metal couples that were all ooey-gooey love notes and flowers, and coming back from the Slayer show with bruises and blood!!!!

So, throughout the course of my life, I've had to listen to "tender moments" of "metal lovers." The growling and roaring of people, the punishing, brutal guitars from stereos as roommates & their significant others down the hall at all hours of the night did what folks in relationships do when they're hot and bothered. They just did it with the volume up at 11. Thing is, the chicks and dudes that made up the "significant other" pool seemed, for the most part, pretty into the musical bedroom mosh pit.

But there were a few of these dates who had the sultry, come hither attitude wiped clean off their face by the next morning after a six hour Cannibal Corpse, Deicide, and Sepultura marathon. And a lot of these metal heads now go to work wearing business attire, enjoy a glass of wine or craft brewed beer with dinner, have homes or apartments in the suburbs, and generally don't look like your metalhead stereotype.

I guess a few of them still get the bedroom mosh pit thing going, though. And I can see where that might come as a shock to the pop-ballad crowd on the dating scene.



the lady said...

Thanks for not slamming me by name. But in my defense, I have been begging for my very own copy of "Death Magnetic" for 2 weeks now and a certain husband of mine keeps neglecting to burn it for me. Part of me wonders if he is thinking, "I have the coolest wife in the world cause she WANTS to listen to Metallica." And part of me thinks he wishes I'd just stick to Ezra!!!!

DADvocate said...

It's always a comfort to know the person you love is not a sadistic sex killer—so right there you have something to build on.

LOL Truer words were never spoken. Reminds me of the movie "10" with Bo Derek where she could only make love while listening to Bolero. Less disturbing than heavy metal but still rather artificial.