Sugar We're Goin' Down

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Or "I'm just a notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in a [blog]"


 Once upon a time, there was a youngish-but-not-too-young girl who was oddly comfortable in her skin for the first time in years. That skin was more plentiful than most peoples', and filled out quite a bit from the bad luck of her genetic code and a predisposition to love cookies more than the average Jane. But mostly she was fine with that. She was good at her work, worked hard at being good and never thought much about if she was too much like everyone else. She was a near-sighted, neurotic nerd. She was a voracious reader and movie lover. She was herself and it seemed to be working for her. She was doing OK.

Then she met someone and he wasn't a bad dude really. Just sort of odd. But he liked to compare her to his previous lady friends. And for the first time she felt like everything she did needed to support the thesis that she was not like every other female he'd ever met. She wouldn't be laughed at when it was all over and he was sharing stories of her with his new love interest. She was not replaceable. She was unique and awesome, and comparisons to women who were far in his past were ridiculously false because there was only one her.

So she pretended she didn't like Fall Out Boy. For years. She kept it a big secret, like the Manhattan Project of pop music. Because if he found out that she liked Fall Out Boy, the eyes would roll and the comparisons would begin again and she would be everyone else who came before her. When she was alone in her car, she'd crank the radio and put all the windows down and "WE'RE GOING DOWN DOWN AT THE DON'T KNOW THE WORDS, AND SUGAR WE'RE GOING DOWN SWINGING. I'LL BE YOUR NUMBER ONE WITH A BULLET. A LOADED SOMETHING COMPLEX, COCK IT AND PULL IT."

This went on for so long, this Fall Out Boy denial. They released a new album. It had great stuff on it. She'd sing more in her car and wonder if it was all worth it, hiding something that gave her such joy. Then the inevitable moment came when it didn't matter anymore. Regardless of how carefully she'd hidden Fall Out Boy from him, she still ended up being just like the ones who came before her. She was more than he'd bargained for. A notch in his bedpost, perhaps. A line in a song.

But after a while, a handful of months, she realized something. She could say it out loud now and it didn't matter. It never mattered. Ever. Because it's part of who she is and, holy shit, is she amazing.

That's right. I'm a nearsighted nerd with a genetic predisposition to chubbiness and an affinity for baked goods. I'm a voracious reader and movie lover who is (almost) comfortable in her own skin (again).

And I fucking Love Fall Out Boy.

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