Denied Sex, Drugs, and Rock ‘n Roll

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There’s a night that happened to me many years ago now that still sticks strongly in my mind. I’ll never forget it but not in a good way. It’s something I wish I could un-live or erase from my memory if either thing were possible.

The night this happened was in early 2008, maybe in March or April. I had a co-worker at my job who was the complete opposite of what men in the culture I live in were conditioned to be like: long hair, wore black heavy metal band T-shirts, not only played the guitar but was in a metal band as well, and was passionate about horror media as well as violent video games. I was constantly told that my hair needed to be short because long hair was “bad”, I needed to dress like a “yuppie” or I wouldn’t be successful at work, playing the guitar wasn’t going to get me anywhere and was only a hobby, and I needed to have interests that were “normal” or people would think I was weird. His band was going to play out in the woods with some other bands and he invited me along with the other people in our age range to go. It ended up just being myself and our young female co-workers since the other co-workers were middle aged or older women who had no interest in the kind of music this person played.

I was picked up from the house I lived in at the time by one of the young female co-workers and maybe two of the other ones at the time. We also went and got the friend of the one who was driving. I actually knew this person because she flipped her car once and I saw the accident. I tried to talk to her but she didn’t appear interested. My attempts to be more social even back then were unproductive. We then headed towards the woods that the show would take place and it was about 30 or 40 minutes to get out there. I had a small inkling of hope maybe the event would be fun and maybe I would come across a woman who was attracted to me but I was also struggling with anxiety and fearing the worst.

When we got there, I was surprised to see the variety of people there. This wasn’t Austin but there were no rednecks out in this place. You had people with long hair or mohawks, wearing black heavy metal or punk T-shirts (Some were even wearing anti-George W. Bush shirts which were a huge no no in mainstream society at the time), chains and spikes, smoking weed while listening to stoner metal instead of Toby Keith, and tattoos that weren’t “America f**k Yeah!” or “God Kicks Ass!”. Some were even making out with their girlfriends or even having sex in dark corners of the abandoned building were the music was going to take place. The co-worker who invited us there encouraged me to talk to people but when I tried, most gave me glares or were otherwise uninterested, especially from the women. I wore a Cephalic Carnage T-shirt (I no longer listen to them) and only got one person saying “Nice shirt, man!” but he went back to talking with his pals. The co-worker introduced me to his co-guitarist and I felt ripped up on the inside because I was failing to accomplish my own musical dreams and here these two were living it.

Before the music started, the co-worker and his co-guitarist had me come along with them to get refreshments from a convenience store. On the way, the co-guitarist told the co-worker “My girlfriend agreed to let me do her in the ass this weekend!” and both cheered and high-fived while I just sat in the back of the truck feeling left out. Even back then, I was depressed about not having a girlfriend and women weren’t interested in me. I was always told being a gentleman would get me a girlfriend but it didn’t happen and it baffled me how so many who were “breaking the rules” were succeeding. Seeing the bands play felt like repeated punches to the face. I was either told music was never going to get me anywhere or I had to play church or country music but these people were doing what they wanted and getting appreciation for it. I wanted the same but my own efforts were never good enough.

When we were leaving, I had a sudden gas build up in my stomach, something I still suffer from today. I burped a lot and even though I had my mouth covered, the friend of the female co-worker noticed. I eventually stopped burping but then had to fart which I didn’t want to do while surrounded by women. There was still a 25 minute or so drive back to Temple and holding in the gas became painful. When we arrived at the restaurant they wanted to eat at, I had to rush to the restroom. When I came out to sit at the table they got, I mentioned feeling kind of sick and got some concern shown for me but it was short lived. I remember feeling both sick and depressed for the whole meal. I honestly wanted to die after everything that happened.

We all look back at unfortunate events and feel embarrassed , if anything those people probably wouldn't remember or think about it yet you're dwelling on, on something insignificant that couldn't be helped years ago.

Unfortunately theirs always "peer" pressure and trying to "fit in" but when you look back, you realise you're trying to be something you're not and these events aren't meaningful or good memories.

You were brave to share that with us. Maybe you'll feel better now for talking about it, sorry that happened to you Marknis

I hoped I had found an entry point to counterculture and that people like my parents, grandparents, teachers, church elders, and other people who tried to mold me into a robot would eat their words. I was still left out socially and though the aforementioned people failed to make me a robot, I haven’t been able to prove them wrong in that you can be an individual and still succeed.

I'm glad I've always been "denied" drugs.

I like sex. I like rock and roll. I don't like the "sex, drugs, and rock and roll" lifestyle. You're not missing anything, in my opinion.

I've been to the sort of gathering you described. I didn't care for it. I prefer staying at home to read a book.

The drugs I could’ve done without but the other two things I wish I could’ve enjoyed. I didn’t want to live a boring life like my parents wanted me to live but I failed to prove them wrong. They still insist I attend church, bible studies, and root for any Republican politician despite how church did not give me a purpose, bible studies are just another hangout for jocks, and the GOP has not helped me in any way.

I don’t even want to take care of my parents when they get too old to help themselves. My father can just get one of his mistresses to help him and my mother can probably get another redneck man to live with.

When it comes to rock music where I live, there is almost no middle ground. It’s either it’s “Satanic” or only mainstream rock is any good. I don’t like 90% of mainstream rock music because it’s very overplayed and being a fan of it didn’t always translate to social success.

Being a musician has never bought me into contact with these fabled "groupies", even when I was in a rock band.... and I was the only single guy in the band. Maybe I just didn't do enough drugs? (By which I mean, "any".)

The co-worker and his co-guitarist were fans of the band Suffocation and they had girlfriends. If I told a girl I liked Suffocation or had them listen to them, they were shocked.

I know they both had long hair and the co-worker had one of those vests that had different band logos on it. My hair would curl to the sides and look puffy instead of growing straight down. I now just keep it short because of my receding hairline to give it a feathering effect since growing it out makes the receding hairline more obvious.

I did wear band t-shirts, even a Suffocation shirt for a time but most didn’t know the bands on them. If it’s not classic rock, hard rock like AC/DC and Guns N’ Roses, 70’s to 80’s metal (Black Sabbath are disliked for some reason), Red Hot Chili Peppers, Godsmack, Disturbed, Five Finger Death Punch, and Slipknot, these people either haven’t heard it or don’t like it.

The co-worker and his co-guitarist also had all these underground social connections I just couldn’t get access to no matter what I did. It’s like they were part of a club that I couldn’t join or my invitation to got lost in the mail.