[The following heart-wrenching and not at all sad or inappropriate piece was written over a year ago. I did no editing for current feelings, including those on Crystal Bowersox and Casey James. Too many gorgeous pictures and tearful performances for me to sort through at the moment. This is for you, Jamie... for dealing with... well, a perfectly healthy obsession.]
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R-E-S-P-E-C-T. And with that, I was hooked. Kelly Clarkson is where it all began for me, and that day in the summer before college began, I fell in love. With a tv show. I fell in love with a t.v. show. And aside from my relationship with my bfff (best fucking friend forever) Jamie, my relationship with American Idol has been the constant I’ve ever so craved for the past eight years.
Over the past eight years, I started and finished four years of college. I had my first kiss, and my first experience with sex – come to think of it, everything that has really happened to me in life has been in the past eight years. I’ve grown up. And, Idol was there for the ride.
Year one: I remember the summer before college, watching Kelly Clarkson perform week after week as I packed up my life and tried to tell myself I was ready for college. I remember visiting a friend at her college before I ever started at mine, and peeking into the lobby window of her dorm to catch a glimpse of that night’s episode I was missing. One of the very first nights in my dorm room, I remember frantically trying to tape the finale as I had to attend get-to-know-you mixers as a freshman class. And of course, I remember Clarkson’s performance of Respect. I was blown away.
Year two: I remember going downstairs in my dorm with my friend Carrie, to another friend’s room to watch the show weekly. We cheered on Jennifer Hudson, and cared so little about Aiken and Studdard.
Year three: I watched with my roommate, and we obsessed about how happy George Huff made us. The rest of the season felt fairly insignificant with what was going on in my life at the time – but damn that George Huff made me smile…
Year four: Looking back on this season, I find it difficult to think of any stand out performances. However, season four marked the start of a miracle in my life: I met Jamie, and she watched with me in my dorm room every single week. I have a feeling she will deny this, but I even remember her cheering on some of the contestants. After the final performance show of the season, I remember watching at my mom’s house. We each voted for Bo as much as we could, and I left half-way through the voting to run to the grocery store for ice cream. I remember us keeping track of our votes on a piece of paper – tally marks against Underwood country.
Year five: Year five marked the start of my obsession. Year five marked the true, and possibly frightening, loss of emotional control on my part. And as soon as it started, there was no stopping it. This obsession started with “Father Figure,” an Ace Young performance that changed me forever. I really wasn’t expecting to fall in love with this guy - but I guess stranger things have happened. I began creating the story in my head - that the beautiful and tender Ace was madly in love with buddy Chris Daughtry, and that even though Chris was married (to a woman), he felt that the affection was fun. The more I thought about it, the more I just knew it was true. Their relationship became all I could think about. I watched videos of their performances over and over again - pausing on group numbrs if it looked like they were going to hug. And damn, those boys hugged a lot! Week after week, I taped the results show so I could go to the local bar with friends. I would usually get home and rewind just a few minutes, so I knew who left before I watched the whole episode. I became more and more worried about Ace each week, and then it happened... Ace was voted off.
I remember that night a little differently than Jamie does. Maybe bcause my world seemed to be falling down around me... Maybe because I was pretty damn drunk. What I remember was this: I drunkenly called Jamie, upset about the show. What Jamie recalls (and reminds me of quite frequently) was nothing less than an emotional breakdown. I’m told that I called her immediately after I rewound and saw that Ace had been voted off. I guess I was pretty distraught, sobbing to her my now infamous line: “NOTHING MATTERS ANYMORE!” She tried to calm me down and to help me think of happy things. She even told me she loved me, to which I again responded that that didn’t matter, that nothing mattered. I still don’t fully believe her, but it does sound like something I’d do. Now it does, at least. I knew at that point in time that I really liked Ace, and didn’t want the Ace/Chris love affair to have to end. What I didn’t know was just how integral a part they were playing in my emotional well-being. It became more and more confusing - why had a lesbian fallen for these guys? Why Ace? Well, he’s beautiful. Plain and simple. No other explanation needed. To this day, some three years later, I still listen to his rendition of “Father Figure” at least once a week. I even bought his recently released album - and forced myself to listen to it all the way through, despite really not liking it. As I listened, I felt embarrassed for him. And me. Plus, it’s sad that he’s still singing to women. What the fuck...
Year six: Not a fan. I thought a few people were decent, but nothing spectacular stood out for me. Blake seemed like a nice guy, but I got really tired really fast of his beat-boxing nonsense. -- Not nearly as tired as I got of the Christian Virgin Princess Ms. Sparks.
Year seven: The inner hippie in me was finally happy with Idol. Jason Castro. Oh honey, Jason Castro. From his audition on, I was in love. I knew instantly that he’d want to be my friend. I just knew it (until after the season was over and I learned about his freaky Christian ordeal). I started watching videos of him singing with friends, pre-idol. He was always just so, so, so cute. And high. Oh lord, the boy always seemed completely high. And I loved that about him. I loved watching him goof off in the group numbers, and I loved his pre-performance interview clips. I loved the dopey looks that never seemed to leave his face, and the responses he came up with for the judges (“I was thinking Bob Marley!”) Week after week, I was eager to watch his awkwardly divine performance. I asked my friends to call in and vote for him. It was... Intense. I remember thinking he wasn’t the best singer by any means (I also really liked David Cook), but that he made me so happy that I just needed him to stay around for a little while longer.
When Jason was voted off the show, I admit I was a little worried how I’d respond. The fact that he seemed to be relieved by the announcement really helped. It was as if he knew it was coming - and although I wasn’t quite ready for it, I had to remind myself that he had forgotten the words to a Bob Dylan song. Minus ten hippie points, Mr. Castro. For shame. But aside from the whole post-Idol Christian awakening ordeal, I still pretty much love him.
Year seven marked the first time I went to the Idol concert - and I fuckin loved it! I really had the time of my life at that show. My boss bought tickets for her partner’s birthday - with the understanding that she would not have to go. We felt a bit out of place at the concert - for we aren’t exactly teeny bopper fans. But despite the fact that we sat really far away, it was an amazing show. She brought little opera binoculars, and I took tons of pictures. I remember saying I had a great time, but probably wouldn’t go to the Idol concert again -- until...
Year eight: Adam fucking Lambert. Dear sweet lord... Yep. As I often say to Jamie, “It’s scary how much I like him. I know this.” From the hip movements to the high notes, I love it all. I don’t know how many lesbians are this obsessed with him, but I’d like to meet them all.
It all started with his audition, and even some of Hollywood week. He wasn’t shown nearly enough, but I knew right away there may be an obsession of Ace and Jason levels beginning. As the season progressed, it started getting dangerous. I started all the familiar actions - looking at articles and pictures online, watching every pre-idol video I could find, and watching back each episode to see how the other contestants responded to him. For me, he became this amazing and hot fantasy creature, who, at the same time, I knew would be my very best friend.
I don’t know what it means for a lesbian to have sex dreams about men, but today when I woke up, I had this strange urge to shower. I then had to remind myself that I was not going to have sex with Adam Lambert that day (as happened in the dream). So, the shower waits a day. What a relief! I don’t understand why the dreams happen, but that doesn’t mean I want them to stop. It’s like my own little private peep show - where my mind controls everything that happens.
After the pictures, videos, articles, and dreams, I find myself still wanting more Adam Lambert. Perhaps he could perform in a really strange (and probably not good) duet with Eddie Vedder - at least it would be hot. I want more, because I tend to convince myself in these circumstances that the other person would be my very best friend if they just got to know me. Isn’t that somewhere in a stalker handbook of some kind? The feeling one gets from liking someone so much whom they’ll never know - well it’s a fun little package of unending hope and tragic awareness.
So, after all the purely hot performances, all the hip thrusting, shoulder shrugging, and subtle glances at the camera, I have a hard time moving forward. I will be attending the concert again this year - with Jamie! She’ll be the one with the headache, in the “I’m really very glad I am here” shirt, taking pictures during the concert - but only of my reactions to what’s going on... To hold over my head forever. Out of love, of course.
It’s obvious by now that my Idol obsession is something I think about often. When I listen to the oldies station on the radio, I usually am reminded of something Idol-related with every other song. The show has been such a solid presence in my life for the past eight years that I’m worried what I’ll do without it. When that day comes, I may just need to take the day off of work - to cry.
In case it wasn’t clear, I love American Idol more than most things and people. It sounds sad, but it’s true. People haven’t really impressed me lately, but Idol never lets me down.
