The G Word

So I met a young gentleman the other night at a late-night dance party. (Fine...it was a rave. Sue me.) He seemed like a cool dude, and not terrible looking. So, of course, I started babbling. And when the conversation turned to music, I was all in. (Truth be told, I can talk about music for hours, to anyone. So I had a lot to say. And there's no "off switch.")

Anywho, I was chatting him up about the band playing at Saint Rocke this Friday: PARTICLE. "They are effing rad. Electronic, jammy, psychadelic light show, 3 hour set...They are the real deal, and I am ridiculously stoked!!"

The gentleman seemed somewhat interested, but then he laughed and asked, "Who are you, their GROUPIE?"

I stopped and stared blankly, like I was just punched in the face...."Huh?"

To add insult to injury, he went on a tangent to explain to me what a "Groupie" was. In detail. For about 20 minutes. As though I've never heard that term before. Wow.
I let him finish his rant about the Penny Lanes of the world who follow bands around like lost puppies....

And then I stepped on my soap box and really let him have it. Firing an arsenal of verbal bullets, left and right.

"For a female who has been in the music industry for 11 years, booking, marketing, and managing bands, and now a music venue, I take serious offense to that word. It sets women back decades. The fact I'm telling you about an awesome band, means simply: they're awesome. You should give them a listen. It does not imply that I follow them around and make out with them after the show. I make sure the show goes well because that's my job. I'm proud of what I do. And I'm proud to be a woman who rocks."

He was stunned silent. So, naturally, I kept going.

 I started listing famous women musicians of the world. One of whom is playing at Saint Rocke on WEDNESDAY NIGHT: Lita Ford. She's one baddass chica. (tix and info: saintrocke.com.) I was naming the women I idolize. The women who paved the way for all females struggling to make their way in a male dominated industry.

"You should probably just remove that from your vocabulary altogether. If not, I can personally guarantee that you will never get my phone number. And you'll never see me again. In short: I'd rather be called the C Word...than the G Word."

I was on a roll.

Once his tail was sufficiently between his legs, I shut up. He apologized. And he seemed sincere.

I gave him my number. And I might even let him take me out sometime...but not during Particle. There's no way in HELL I'm missing that show.

KT