It’s not like there’s a dearth of romantic sentiment in my life. I have certainly been treated to various sweet thoughts and gestures. But there’s one that just never happened and I pine for it, from time to time.
When Tesla’s “Love Song” came out, there was no way I could actually pine for it, because I was in full Not Quite Goth Yet Definitely Geek mode, and we just didn’t listen to bands like Tesla. At least, not intentionally. And if we happened to catch it on the radio, just happened to, you know, be sliding past that top 40 station on the way to the really rad college station we were sure have a Friday night slot on someday, we would definitely never pause and hug a pillow (which we had never once pretended was Christian Slater in “Heathers”) and sing along very, very quietly. We’d never do that. Ever.
We’d never picture Christian Slater slouching into a dive bar, cigarette tucked behind his left ear, dressed in plain old jeans and an open button-down over a plain old white t-shirt and big boots, in his right hand a quarter glinting in the dingy light. We’d certainly never fantasize about sitting on a stool in not-too-high heels and a very flouncy, kicky dress and a red gardenia in our very long and flowing hair, watching him toss the quarter into the jukebox and then glance over with that kind of Jack Nicholson-y, kind of Clark Gable-y, kind of Christian Bale-y, “this is what’s going on right now, babe” look.
And we’d never, not once, let him put his hand on our waist and tug us off the stool and slow-dance right there, with everyone watching.
love will find a way darlin’ love is gonna find a way find its way back to you love will find a way so look around open your eyes