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We're demented and sad ... but social



Sadsteve_2(Feathered hair ... a cheesy mustache ... Class of '85 ring on the hand ... forlorn look on the face ... a glass of liquid courage in the hand. Yes, it must be a photo of depressed "80s Steve.") 

I've been reading all the comments about sad songs and breakups on the blog -- along with a handful of really depressing e-mails -- and all I can say is: Whew, it's nice to know I'm not alone in the anguish that's ejected into me when I hear certain songs from the 80s.

Of course, the bad side to all this is now I'll begin to associate misery with just about EVERY song you've mentioned. (I was damn near tears when Chicago's "Hard to Say I'm Sorry" came on the radio on the drive home last night.) And before you begin to think that it's only Genesis and tunes from Invisible Touch that personally haunt me, take a look at the other songs that send me racing to the liquor store.

Take it on the Run (REO Speedwagon): I heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend that my first girlfriend, Janette, was messing around -- with a guy named Harold! A painful first lesson in love. (I'm sure Kevin Cronin would have used the name "Harold" in the song -- if there was anything else in the English language that rhymed with it.)

Don't Let It End (Styx): Part deux with Janette, who came with me to see the Styx "Mr. Roboto" tour in St. Pete's now-demolished Bayfront Center Arena. She was more than happy to hold hands and make-out during "Lady," but when the show was over, she just "let it end." (Didn't she listen to the song?!?)

True (Spandau Ballet): Ah yes. I finally had a date with the lovely Robin, and we danced for the very first time (well, OK ... the only time) to this song. A few years later, I'm her "good friend Steve" and she's telling me how much fun she had sleeping with one of my best friends. "This is the sound of my soul" -- breaking into a million tiny pieces.

Good Feeling (Violent Femmes): Try having girlfriend break up with you in front of all your friends at a party you throw at your own house just one month before prom. There's nothing good about that feeling. (There's an equally great epilogue to this story that we'll tell during a special podcast.)

No One Is To Blame (Howard Jones): A girlfriend actually sent me a tape of this song with a "Dear Steve" letter back in my freshman year at the University of Florida. Note to all women out there: Don't send soundtracks with your break-up letters. Clearly, 80s addicts like us don't need the added torment!

Keep the stories coming. A heart-breaking podcast is in the works to wipe away all the pain.

[Last modified: Wednesday, June 9, 2010 2:26pm]


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