Stuff You Should Know About

10 Reasons You Should Never, Ever Date a Musician

Musicians are a sexy bunch. Something about black eyeliner, a spotlight and a slow ballad in a room full of smoke and lasers can drive any sane person to the depths of groupie whoredom in a back alley or a stinky tour bus. Not that we would personally know (ahem); we avoid romantic entanglements with rhythm makers at all costs. Sure, musicians have the best parties, connections to celebrities and always know the coolest music, but are they worth their own cover charge?

Listen up, ladies. While we all agree men in drag with guitars inspire copious panty-dropping, we also admit the inherent dangers of dating musicians. So we sounded out a few (anonymous) lovesick and broken-hearted ex-lovers of said musicians to offer up some pithy, yet slightly salty, advice on why you should never do it.

What’s the old adage? Something like, "What do you call a bass player with no girlfriend? Homeless." Musicians, through little fault of their own, rarely have two nickels to rub together after spending entire paychecks on expensive gear and spandex. These poor souls work lousy jobs to keep nights and weekends free for dates with, gigs with other musicians. That means they require your love and support, especially around the first of the month.

Musicians' love for notes, arrangement, lyricism and performance never ends. Beware: They will commit more time to a practice studio than with you. If that’s not a dealbreaker, the time you do spend together they'll be dwelling on their music, conversation after conversation. Weekends will be spent listening to their music, and lazy afternoons will be spent listening to them practice their music. Run into old friends at lunch? The discussion will revolve around well, you know, their music.

At some point, you’ll either tire of hearing about upcoming shows and attend or be so desperate to spend time with them you find yourself at the long-anticipated gig. You’ve cheered on your musician, you feel their energy and enthusiasm and then you notice something — when they’re in the spotlight, you’re not. Worse, they ask you for space. Your musician, who once pledged his undying love for you, now gives his best smile, warm attention and a million full-frontal hugs (with butt grabs) to every tipsy broad who screams in his face how much she “just loves” him as you stand in the background.

If your musician should honor you enough to bring you backstage, expect to be treated the same way as other women who frequent backstage dwellings. You’ll find yourself throwing around phrases like, “Excuse me, I’m here with my boyfriend, the tambourine player!” as security harasses you for credentials. Except you won’t have them because your tambourine prodigy forgot to put you on the list. Remember, if Mr. Tambourine Man forgets to put you on the list more than once, see No. 4 below.

Musicians naturally tend toward melancholy and come built with painful insecurities. Art makes them vulnerable, afraid and exposed. As their closest ear, you will hear all the fears and heartbreak they carry. Will they ever become rock stars? Does anyone care? Do you? Prepare yourself for their other poles of emotional outbursts as well, such as jealousy. They will talk serious trash about other musicians in the scene. And, while they may verbalize their support for other bands, don’t believe it. Inside, they are seething with envy that success has missed their band again. Remain supportive, but whatever you do, don’t become the band manager — or worse, roadie with benefits.

Let’s face it, you’re the Yoko Ono of this ensemble. The love songs they courted you with will be revised and reworded upon your breakup. That love song will be replaced by a punk-rock anthem sung by him and his drunken buddies as they bond over your departure. The corrupted lyrics will now tell of your constant nagging and smothering while simultaneously celebrating how you didn’t break up the band. This song will be requested at parties and shared on EPs and demos. You will be immortalized as the ex-bitch forever.

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Kristy Loye is a writer living in Houston and has been writing for the Houston Press since July 2015. A recent Rice University graduate, when not teaching writing craft or reciting poetry, she's upsetting alt-rights on Reddit.