I Adore Gavin DeGraw
- Is he handsome? I’ll punch you if you say no!
- Does he sport a six pack? I hope so.
- Is he a Rhodes scholar? Possibly.
- Do you even know who the hell I’m talking about ? Probably not.
But can that man tickles the ivories and sing in his bluesy, smoky, nails-down-a-spinal-column voice? Oh, yes he can.
And those soulful lyrics. “Staring at a maple leaf, leaning on the mother tree…” What does it mean? Who cares?! Look at that smile!
I don’t go to concerts. I hate crowds, I’m afraid I’ll get trampled in a mosh pit where I’ll catch tuberculosis and someone will try to safety pin my nipples.
But within ten minutes I had purchased tickets to see Gavin at the Fox Theater in Pomona. Pomona, people. City murderous pimps.
I’d even sprung for the deluxe tickets, where I got to go to the pre-show/sound-check party and stand in front of the stage for the concert.
I didn’t feel guilty. I’d given my husband Henry two children and my youth.
Now he could be free of my shallow need-to-be-worshipped-by-all-men-all-the-time, voracious ego.
He’d be better off. He’d find someone selfless and mature whom he could have a spiritual, platonic relationship with.
However, his buff chest, blue eyes and soul would be mine to keep. She could have his feet. But I digress.
I didn’t take Henry to the concert. How could I?
What if Gavin saw me in the crowd — yes, a woman twenty years older than most of his fans, but with excellent night vision — and he and Henry got into a fight over me?
Hasn’t Gavin suffered enough from last year’s attack in New York? And I wouldn’t want Henry to hurt his delicate writers’ hands.
I took my sister, Gina. She’s Mormon, so I knew she’d keep a close eye on me.
Case in point, I started to flash my leopard print bra to the Gavin roadies when I walked into the sound-check party and Gina tackled me to the ground. Crisis averted.
Then Gavin emerged onstage.
I’d hoped seeing him in the flesh would be a disappointment. Alas, it was not to be. He joked with all of us, made us feel intimately connected to him and basically charmed the pants off of all the ladies.
Which was unfortunate for me as those AG jeans cost over 100 dollars when the economy was still good.
After the sound-check party, we big spenders were all ushered into a little restaurant that was part of the theater to drink and eat until the show began. This is where the real trouble began.
I was in the bathroom having a pee when I noticed someone had left their wallet on top of the toilet paper dispenser.
Oh, I thought, I am going to find the owner of this wallet and they’re going to be so relieved.
I will be a good Samaritan, which will exonerate me for my extra-marital crush.
I looked inside the wallet to see a girl-next-door brunette smiling back. Hold on a minute, there was another identification card. Huh. This perky young woman was in the military. The Air Force no less. I would be her personal hero. I might get a medal.
So imagine my surprise when I found the girl, who stood a good six inches taller than me, even with my heels on, and I handed her her wallet and she just said, “Oh, thanks.”
Then turned back to her friends without missing a beat. WTH? Where was the gratitude, the commendation for valor, the offer to give me a private flight in her F-16 where we could buzz Gavin’s tour bus?
I returned to Gina a bit disgruntled.
But it was time to see the concert. Unfortunately, I was under the misapprehension that Gavin was the opening act. He wasn’t.
Carolina (who?) Liar and David Cook of American Idol fame played first. Gavin was the headliner.
While I was happy for Gavin, I was distraught for my feet, which were enslaved in a pair of platform heels.
Heels not too terrible for an hour of standing. But not what turned out to be four hours of ooh! ahh! ouch! I’m-too-old-for-this-sh#t standing.
To make matters worse, I was standing directly in front of Ungrateful Wallet Girl who was double-fisting Bud Lites at the speed of sound. (She’s probably flown at the speed of sound … huh).
With each bottle of Bud killed, she leaned further into me, until she was standing on my head.
There was Gavin singing his heart out — let’s face it — directly to me:
“Whenever I see you I need more, And I want you to stay til the end, One look at that smile and I’m all yours, Will you just smile at me again?”
… and I’m just trying to stay out from under a drunken air force pilot who most likely has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and is packing a Talon SS .20 Calibre Rifle.
Halfway through Gavin’s set the POKING began.
Every minute or so someone behind me poked my shoulder HARD. It was either Violent Wallet Girl, or one of her equally loaded, bleary-eyed, Amazonian friends.
Suddenly I was back in fourth grade, standing on a toilet in the girls’ bathroom trying not to breathe as my 10-year old Bully Nemesis peed in the next stall sharpening her switchblade.
The poking continued. Okay, enough was enough. I was gonna have to open up a can of Whup Ass.
I spun on my bleeding heel like a Ninja Assassin. “So,” I said in a commanding take-no-prisoners voice, “Do you remember I’m the lady who returned your wallet?”
The fog lifted briefly from Asshole Wallet Girl’s eyes.
“Oh, yeah, that was you.”
“That’s right, I’m so glad I found it for you and returned it with everything intact.”
“Oh, right, I guess that was nice.”
“I was looking at your ID so I could find you and I noticed you’re in the military.”
“Yeah, I am, I just got back from the front lines in Afghanistan.” (Afghanistan, did she really think I’d be intimidated by that?)
“Thank you for your service,” I said.
That shut her right up. I chose to use flattery to diffuse the situation, not because I was afraid she’d kick my butt and send my body parts home in a MRE packet, but because I wanted to support our troops.
The poking stopped, but Blotto Wallet Girl still kept inching right over the top of me, until I was behind her, trying not to breathe on her in case she had a Korengal Valley flashback and accidentally gutted me like a trout.
Eventually, my sister pulled me in front of Ingrate Wallet Girl and took a position between us. Let me tell you, if the mortars are coming in, you’ve been flanked and the Jerrys are coming over the top with fixed bayonets, Gina’s the one you want at your side.
From what I remember of the performance Gavin was awe-inspiring.
If you don’t know his music, you should treat yourself. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to let this unrequited crush end before it’s even begun.
Because I’m lucky Henry puts up with me … and Gavin’s fans are too scary.
Goodbye to what might have been.
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15 thoughts on “How Crushing on Gavin DeGraw Almost Got Me Killed”
Great story! You and your sister sound like quite the team.
What a brilliantly funny blog!! Your descriptions took me back to the many concerts where I stood on the floor trying to look excited but waiting to be trampled. This was hilarious. Thank you!
Glad you came out of there alive!
Love this! Gavin is my fav and I’m not scary! Hope you keep the crush alive. He is worth it!
I just feel like he’s so underappreciated. But maybe that’s a good thing. Then he’s not too expensive to see.
Fabulous post, made me LOL!
I like him. “I don’t wanna be anything other than what I’m supposed to be.” One time I was at a Billy Joel concert and the people behind me were singing along with “She’s Always a Woman.” I mean, really? I turned around and told them to shut up. I wouldn’t ever do that now.
I recently started paying attention to newer music and Gavin DeGraw popped right to the top. I think I’ll give up on the idea of getting concert tickets, however. Thanks for your story!
Oh, you are a brave woman. I went to a rock concert once and got trampled in the mosh pit. (I’m under 5 feet tall.) I love music but hate crowds. You are a true fan. Rock on!
“He joked with all of us, made us feel intimately connected to him and basically charmed the pants off of all the ladies.”
Great photo of you two at the end of the post. Your smile says it all!
Yvonne Wray recently posted…Three Things My Celebrity Crush Taught Me About Menopause
I do know of whom you write. I think I discovered Gavin McGraw during my full-blown midlife crisis phase a few years ago. Yes, nothing sends you back to life before children, marriage and creams for your face, neck and female parts — than a young guy singing his heart out about a woman making him crazy. Glad solider female didn’t toss her drink on you. Had that happen a concert once.
Hi Jamie — I realize that I miss you. I’m off to see what you’re up to!
My spouse and I stumbled over here coming from a different page and thought I should check things out.
I like what I see so i am just following you. Look forward to looking into your web page yet again.
Roseanne — so glad you’re finding things to like here. I look forward to hearing more from you!
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