Girly

A few days ago, I was furiously looking for my Charlie Brown Christmas CD. I didn’t end up finding it; instead, I found a few of many remixes I burned at Girly’s house this summer. While I burned a lot of CD’s, it seems I didn’t label many of them, so I popped them into my CD-ROM drive one by one. After all, I was sure to encounter at least a few songs I wanted on my iPod. And I did; remember Breakfast at Tiffany’s? Gone til November? Blinded by the Light?

It’s funny how just flipping through the first 5 seconds of a song can still bring back memories; not eventful, big memories, either. Blinded by the Light recalls the scene of Girly and her brother (over)excitedly discussing the various remixes of the song they’d found, and then head-bopping and lip-syncing to the words. Not very epic, is it? And yet this is what my mind has selected to remember.

Just like any 98 Degrees song will always remind me of her house in high school. I used to spend a lot of time at Girly’s house, and she went through a phase of infatuation with the boys of 98 Degrees. I’m not joking; there were CD’s bought, posters hung up, specials watched, all to satisfy this obsession of hers. My most vivid memory involving the band doesn’t even have anything to do with their music. At a party, her brother’s friend untacked one of the 98 posters, and re-tacked it upside down as a joke. Girly freaked out. She walked in the room, noticed the drunken, mischievous look on his face, looked around suspiciously, sighted the poster, took a deep breath and reamed him out. She was mad. The guy would probably have been pretty intimidated; Girly has some pretty strong “intimidation” genes in her family. Unfortunately, when Girly gets mad, her voice rises three octaves (to what my brother likes to call “the Hamster”), and this was before her growth spurt, so instead of a scary creature of wrath, the guy was looking at a 5-foot tall cute little girl he’d known since she was three who was shrieking just barely within the range of human hearing.

Another one of the songs I found on the mix CD’s was Colin Hay’s Just Don’t Think I’ll Ever Get Over You. I’ll just give you a sampling of the lyrics, so you know what I’m talking about here:

I don't want you thinking I'm unhappy
What is closer to the truth
That if I lived till I was 102
I just don't think I'll ever get over you

Anyway, it’s a very pretty, if incredibly depressing, song. However, whenever I hear it it makes me smile, or if I’m feeling particularly reminiscent, giggle a little. See, the first time I heard this was the day after I was dumped a guy I was completely in love with; I left for Girly’s house the second I woke up that day, cried on a good portion of the bus ride (it was summer, thank goodness, so I was wearing sunglasses the entire time), and promptly climbed into her bed and bawled upon arrival. I’m guessing she decided to turn on iTunes so I (or more likely for her benefit) wouldn’t have to hear my crying as the soundtrack for the day. It was a good plan; iTunes has that handy “Shuffle” setting, so I could just lie there and cry while listened sympathetically, and the trusty computer would keep on playing.

At one point, though, the as-of-then-unheard-by-me strains of Colin Hay kicked in. I was in one of my crying lulls, and had retired into a period of quiet despair, so there was no crying to drown out the lyrics. I think Girly had zoned out a little, which is understandable, as I’d woken her up at 7 am or something equally unreasonable to cry all over her pillow and hog half of the (twin) bed. So I’m listening to what he’s saying, not wanting to move or ask Girly to change it, because I felt bad for being such a pain. So I sat there, just feeling more and more awful, until finally I said something.

“Um…Girly? Do you think you could change the song?”
“Huh? What are we-Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” She lunged to turn it off, yelping as she stubbed her toe and nearly tripping over the chair into a face plant.
“That’s okay” I said (I’m willing to bet I sounded pretty pitiful).

I spent the entire day at her house. She made me toast, which I didn’t eat. She later got mad at her brother for eating my (by then, cold) toast, at which point he carefully put it back on the plate and made a sad, apologetic face at me. Her mom came down and gave me a hug, and then her mom’s best friend came down and gave me a hug. Both these things made me cry. Her dad stayed away, except once in the morning to tell us it was beautiful outside, and ask if we would like to sit on the porch, to which I said “not yet”.

By afternoon, I went out on the porch, into the sun, and just watched the people walk by. Girly had been helping her mom with some of the guestrooms (her house is a Bed and Breakfast), and within about five minutes she came out to join me on the porch.

“Hey, you’re outside! …You know, you’re going to be fine. I promise.”
“I know.”
“What the hell is that lady wearing?”
“I know.”

So I Just Don’t Think I’ll Ever Get Over You, while sad and sweet, is like pressing play on the memory of Girly nearly killing herself to turn off what, if left alone, would have been just another love song. It’s a pretty funny image, as is the one of her brother’s realization that he was eating my toast, and the memory of the hideous outfit that lady was wearing. And considering how I felt, I think it’s pretty bloody amazing that I can laugh at the memory of anything at all from that day.

And even though I’m a Backstreet Boys girl at heart, always have been and always will be, I’m probably stuck with this soft spot for 98 Degrees forever.