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STILL - Rod has been trying to clear the deck on his personal past. Recently, he and I had an exchange about unapproachable women. He questioned my sanity, when I suggested it helps if you remember that they too are someone's sister, they too have aches & pains. I remembered one I fell for, and let slip away.....................
1984: I was playing bass in a hard-rock/metal band. I was married, some college, a steady day job, 2 kids and a crappy marriage. After losing our singer, myself, the guitarist and the drummer were convinced that we should "back-up" a local, rock-celeb with great contacts. Overnight, WE had an entourage. Yes, real live sexy women who wanted to hang out with us. Groupies.
Her name was Jill, "Still Jill" some of the guys called her when she wasn't around. It wasn't because of her soft-spoken manner: it was because when they f****d her, as everyone in the band (except myself) eventually did,"you get going on her, and she just gets completely still, like she's dead".
Me, I couldn't figure out what she was doing with us, except she liked "having a few" and a girlfriend of hers was the "Head Groupie." Jill was educated, had a good job, nice skin, a pretty face and a dynamite body. She usually left with somebody at the end of the night- but never two nights in a row.
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She was fantastic, and in time it became a regular ritual: we would sit in a corner backstage, we would wrap our arms and legs around each other and she would start to rub.
Sometimes I rubbed her back, sometimes I lightly caressed her breasts, sometimes we gently kissed when it was time for me to go on -- not deep, erotic kisses; more like the soft gentle kisses you give to someone when you know it's over. We had an understanding: not too much contact, no whispers of commitment, no chances for pain. Right.
Move equipment, set up, play a few sets, pack up; you'd think I would go home and pass out. But the sheets were always clammy that summer. The window a.c. unit just droned on, the hum from the amplifiers buzzed in my brain, and the recollection of the guys calling her "Still Jill" ate away at the foolish romantic inside me - I could have made her happy, Jill would have been different with ME!
My spouse's drunken snoring and reeking breath made it intolerable. Jill smelled good, Jill was soft, Jill comforted me: I loved Jill.
Eventually, I would remember what my father always told me when it was too hot to sleep," Lie still son, don't move around, it'll just make you hotter". And so I would try staying still, real still. Without Jill.
RDR RECOMMENDED SITE OF THE DAY: The American Prospect Online is usually a good source for thoughtful commentary. Drop by there one day when you're not here.
