Spun Out

I have a thing for D.J.'s. So many nights out I’ve spent looking over the turntables rather than the accessible, available men on the other side of the tracks. Something about them so focused while they’re spinning, something about their oversized headphones, something about their elusiveness from the rest of the bar/club, something about their non-verbal occupation all fuels this mysterious quality. In addition, they’re occupied so you can’t bother them while they’re working, or can you?

Tonight, I found my answer. You can. Out at a bar with some friends, standing near the D.J. booth, he asks if he should play White Stripes or Jane’s Addiction. “Seven Nation Army,” I yelled. Soon, a conversation ignited. And well, idealization turned into realization. I realized that my long-time predilection was better left in my head. I’m bummed. Now, if the night is bust I can’t even have an in-head flirtation. I need to revive my imaginary friend.