I Don’t Care About Your Band by Julie Klausner I’ve dated countless disappointments; fauxhemians, moody artists, narcissistic actors, bi-polar designers, and other emotionally unavailable men. I’ve spent a lot of time standing to the left side of a stage because I dated musicians. Some of them are nobodies, some of
I don’t even think we had rubber boots on at the time. My ripped jeans were soaked right up passed the knees. Plaid shirts wrapped around our waists and clipped in our centre parted hair were plastic little girl barrettes. It was 1993. Sarah and I were 13 years old, jumping into puddles on a warm spring day. Hockey moms drove by and glared at us with a look that scoffed, ‘ugh, teenagers.’ But we didn’t give a flying fart what anyone thought. We were best friends (Best Friends Forever!) splashing in the last days of childhood.