Reflections of a Punk Rocker’s Wife
I hit the sack last night at about 11:00, 11:30. I’m flipping through the latest issue of Razorcake, when I see my Wife dash past the door to our bedroom, and head towards the office. No big deal, right? But she was smiling; she was up to no good! This morning she emailed me the following article, hope you like it. – Mike E.
I am not a punk rocker. Never was. In fact, I was a Duran Duran fan. Complete with the faux mullet and twist/rolled pants. We were called New Romantics. You probably knew us. You surely would see us walking around with our Fedoras and guys in make up and sneer the same sneer we mirrored back at you.
I remember watching the punk rockers walk around all dark and brooding and wishing I could be as complicated and mysterious. All I ever wanted at the time was to see Simon LeBon and watch him fall under my spell. I remember this one boy in particular. I used to watch him on the bus on the way to school every morning. He had the Anarchy symbol and Black Flag doodled all over his notebook. My friends used to speculate on his home life and sensationally exaggerated his extra curricular activities. For goodness sake, he had SAFETY PINS all over his clothes!!! He must be a rebel. Therefore, dangerous. Therefore a subject of much infamy and the secret fantasy of every girl I knew. I used to think he was secretly in love with me and would one day show up outside my house on some crazy dangerous motorcycle and we’d drive off to some wild adventure. He never did. And I only secretly wished for a life of drama and abandon. Instead I did what I was supposed to do. I was a good girl. Rebelled mildly, grew up, got married and had a child. I don’t know what ever became of him. He might be some IT geek now with the only holes in clothes being buttonholes. But I would like to think he is still out there on his motorcycle making girls mentally fan themselves while saying what is expected; “He’s a punk.”
These days, as I drive my son to kindergarten and watch him in the rearview mirror pump his little fists while singing along with his new favorite song by Rancid “Disconnected!” I think to myself, “I finally got to fall in love with a punk rocker.” – Elizabeth E.