Boyfriend of the Day: John Roderick

This is a new addition to this blog, but a necessary one, since about every 7 minutes I have a new secret fake boyfriend. This secret fake boyfriend could be anyone, a guy wearing the perfectly kind of faded black t-shirt over his skinny frame who is standing next to me on the subway, the really hot dude who sat next to me in my speech class sophomore year of college to whom I never said even one word, or even some really awkward dude who happened to be holding the right book when he walked by me on the street. The only catch is that the relationship must be both secret and fake. This time, as a special treat, my secret fake boyfriend is also kind of famous.

John Roderick is totally my boyfriend right now. I saw him play at the Bookeaters Ball and about four seconds into his appearance on stage it was over. He's tall, he's got really awesome glasses, he's funny and he's super awesome at guitar. Coincidentally, so am I. Google it, you'll find out.

The thing is, I don't go nutso for either celebrity or musical ability. I'm not the kind of girl who takes off her shirt as soon as a guy starts playing the guitar, in fact, most likely I'll put another shirt on and leave the room. That's how I know it's different with John. I wanted to sit in that theatre for the rest of my life and listen to him sing, except of course for the time we would spend in our tastefully eccentric apartment, drinking coffee while he read me his lyrics, then maybe walking to the Farmer's market to buy some flowers (and I usually hate flowers, but for John, I guess I like them) and then spend the afternoon watching IFC and laying on the couch.

I felt like a teenager at an *NSync concert, although I was nowhere near as excited as the girl behind me who was hyperventilating with her boyfriend as Sufjan Stevens took the stage, whimpering over and over "ohmygodohmygod. he'ssocool he'ssocool. ohmygodohmygod." No, I was so much cooler than that. Instead I just stared intently while brainstorming over the names of our future children and hoping that he would spot me in the crowd, my face perfectly illuminated by the stage lights, and spend the rest of the night wondering, "WHO WAS THAT GIRL?!" And then, through a very complicated series of events, we would run into each other on the subway or maybe on the street, and there would be an awkward moment of recognition, and then some fumbling conversation, and then an afternoon of me blowing off work to go to a bookshop with him. And it wouldn't even matter to him that I'm 13 years younger because we're both crazy souls. See? I play things SO COOL.

I guess you had to be there, but thanks to the Internet, you can be. Kind of. This song was lovely, but it was the song about the spaceship that put tears in my eyes and made me realize that I am just a giant walking uterus.