Desperately Seeking A Vice

     When I married a musician I accepted a future of late nights schlepping equipment back and forth from gigs, being the only audience member for the band before his, and being a "band-widow"-- home with the family while my husband was off playing. The up-sides were getting to be married to a musician, which has been pretty cool, and always having music in my life, despite my own complete lack of talent in that department.

     After taking a few too many years off from the music world to be a regular guy, my musician is back in half-swing, and I'm happy about that because a musician who isn't playing music is like a Kardashian without a credit card-- a tragic, miserable soul. So the opportunity, like last night, to get to see my man doing that-thing-he-does-so-well is appreciated and thoroughly enjoyed. Some things have changed now that they're older though. They don't stay out nearly as late, so far the venues aren't dives, and there's no leather-pant clad poufy hair-band on stage first. Rehearsals are still Sunday's which cracks me up, but they seem much happier, like they're finally playing music for themselves. And that must make playing for others much more satisfying. 

        Being a "band-wife" is harder than it looks, at least for me. I'm bad with crowds, unfamiliar people and places, and the general nightlife. It's sort of a phobia, which makes me a terrible "band-wife." I love to watch them play, but I'm not the girl who gets up and dances, or strolls around networking with the crowd. If I make it passed the anxiety of "getting there" and "being there" you'll normally find me tucked away someplace (preferably backed up to a wall) where I will remain all night unless the need to pee becomes overwhelming. I know it looks anti-social but you have no idea what it took just to get me there. To lay any doubt to rest, I really am having a good time. It's just hard to see unless you know me well enough. In the past, good friends and better alcohol made it all possible. Good friends would drag me along, knowing I wanted to go, no matter how much I hated being there. And alcohol made it all a bit more blurry and less nail bite-y.

        I could drink pretty hard when I was younger. In retrospect I was probably the same idiot everyone else was, but I thought I kept it together pretty well at the time. However, in my early twenties I took some time away from alcohol to have a family. (Not only can't you drink while you're pregnant or breastfeeding, those bath times are a bitch after a glass of wine or two.) After those first ten years of involuntary sobriety I became the default designated driver for most events,  so I rarely consume alcohol anymore. Now my addiction of choice is Starbucks. I lost my stamina for liquor, which is a shame, but it makes me a pretty cheap date. Half a bottle of beer and I'm having a damn fine time! FYI I also lost my ability to balance on a pair of "fuck-me" pumps. But that's no big loss.

        I also haven't smoked a cigarette in 20 years. (Lies! I may have bummed a puff here or there.) I was mostly an environmental smoker anyway, meaning I only smoked in certain environments, mainly bars and parties-- anywhere there was alcohol. I really only smoked for less than a year and I never bought a pack. I could always bum one off someone else, since my three best friends smoked constantly. I bummed my final cigarette off my girlfriend's mom. She used a brand called Saratoga which tasted like an old sneaker covered in dog crap. I decided if I was desperate enough to smoke that cigarette, I never wanted to smoke again and quit. Normally I don't give it a second thought. I'm glad I quit, but in the right environment-- loud music, booze, and my friends lit up next to me-- my fingers start itching just to hold one. It's mostly a comfort thing-- a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. It just feels right. But I don't smoke anymore. I don't smoke anymore. I don't smoke...anymore.

        My youthful "sex, drugs and rock n' roll" phase was severely lacking in the sex and drugs, although there was plenty of rock n' roll. My phobia of crowds etc stems from a much larger fear of not being in control, so the drugs were never attractive to me, even the alcohol has a limit where I'm comfortable without passing that line. But I did have friends who partook of the occasional substance, and they were a hoot and a half. Likewise the sex. I lived mostly vicariously in those areas. Now of course, while I have no qualms with checking out the awesome arms on the guy who carried the couch passed my table, I'm a somewhat happily married woman, so my sexploration days are long gone. And while I get a real kick watching Weeds, there is something slightly pathetic about my friend who can't go out for an evening with the girls without getting lit in the minivan first.

        So there I was last night, (after having gone through the same "Maybe I won't go" rigmarole I used to)  hanging out with some of the same friends from 20 years ago, grooving along to a few of the old tunes and having the same good time, drinking my diet coke out of one of those plastic "I can't drink with the grown-ups" glasses, gulping at the second hand smoke like a fish gasping for air, and unconsciously rubbing the spot between my fingers where the stick belonged, when I suddenly realized I had lost all my vices. Don't drink. Don't smoke. What do you do? Goodie two, goodie two, goodie,  goodie two shoes. (Sorry. Random Adam Ant moment. We all have them. Don't lie!)

        I still love rock n' roll, but all the edgy stuff, if you could ever describe me as "edgy", has worn off. I used to be angry, angst-y. How many of you remember the angry, bitter me? The Bitch. (Uber-Bitch I believe.) Anyone? Anyone? It's strange because who I am now, remembers knowing who I once was, but only as acquaintances. I can and have pulled an all-nighter recently, but it's completely lost its appeal and is most likely caused by insomnia. While I may still stay up too late, I need my sleep. My brain doesn't function at all after a certain number of hours. The alcohol is fun, but not as much fun as the company. I used to go out with my friends to drink. Now I go out to drink with friends. I may miss a cigarette or beer here or there, and reminisce about the best of my memory's nostalgic moments, but my body is no longer designed to be 20. "Sex, drugs, and rock n' roll" has turned to "Starbucks, Tums, and a descent bedtime." Aging is a strange and wonderful thing.  While the definition of a good time may have changed, the elements are still the same, good friends, good music. Does life really need to be much more?