John and I

I fell in love once. I was 11 and he was 23. Tall and ever-so-fashionable, he was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid my young green eyes on. His name was John Taylor and he played bass in Duran Duran. Since that fateful moment, 27 long years have passed.

I grew up with John and Duran Duran. I bought their records at Sam Goody at the Echelon Mall, raced home and studied all the lyrics printed on the inner sleeve of the album, as the needle on my turntable followed the groove of every new wave note on the vinyl.

Duran Duran saw me through those crappy middle school years when I was discovering who I was and who I wanted to be. They taught me the art of fashion (yes, cut the fingers off your red leather gloves), the cutting-edge hair trends (dark hair, blond bangs) and how to sing harmony (Please, please tell me now).

As I grew, they grew. The music matured as I entered my teen years and my heart broke when they split into Power Station and Arcadia, for I knew that was the beginning of a deeper and more permanant split.

In my 20's Perfect Day and Lay Lady Lay spun round and round in my Walkman. More melancholy tunes that became the soundtrack to the uncertainty I desperatley tried to hide as I approached the end of my college years and embarked on my real life. The dress rehearsal was coming to a close and it was time for my grand performance. At least I has Duran Duran to accompany me.

This past Wednesday, I took off from work after a business trip to recover. I flipped through the channels and came across a Duran Duran concert. Something shocked me. Remember at concerts how we all used to "flick our Bic" during the slow songs? The audience, instead of burning their fingerprints to oblivion with lighters, opened their cell phones during Save a Prayer. Wembly was illuminated with technology. And it hit me fast and hard -- Duran Duran and I were...old.

This point was further driven home just this evening as I watched VH-1 Classics and they played The Wild Boys. "That can't possibly be a classic," I think. "It's not even their early stuff." Then I remember that I was in 7th grade when that song came out. It is a classic. I am a classic.

But would I rather be young now? Not a chance. Duran Duran's new "record" is only available on iTunes right now. iTunes! No teen today knows the joy of fingering through records at Sam Goody, wondering if the sleeve will be a cheap plain white or a cool design complete with lyrics and liner notes. They do not know the anticipation of standing on line for concert tickets or burning their fingers with Bic lighters. They do not know the happieness of catching a video by their favorite artist, as they can watch them now on a loop on YouTube if they desire.

No, I am happy that I am a classic, for I have known all these things. Simple joys that make up part of who I am.

As for John and I, we have endured a long relationship now. And I don't real see it ending anytime soon.