“Just like every cowboy…”





Like so many poor, outcast, lower-middle class white boys did in 1950’s/60’s England:

I fell in love with the blues.

[And, by extention, classic rock since I was the same as they, just in a different era/location.]



I hadn’t been playing guitar four months when a band asked me to join as their rhythm guitarist.

It seems I’d talent enough to make them think I’d been playing far longer.



They weren’t together very long, doing glam-metal covers, but I kept playing.

When the split became official, I enlisted the drummer and found a new bass player.

We made a Hell of a power-trio.



We practiced in the basement of the drummer’s family.

It was some of the most fun I’ve had in my life.

Playing everything from Howling Wolf, to Elvis, to Zeppelin to originals, we’d rock the foundations of the building.

Very quickly, the drummer’s 14 yr old cousin would come down to watch and listen.


She was a cute, little girl.

And she soon had a tremendous crush on me.



Now, I was 21 at the time.

So any and all thoughts of something coming of it did not even enter my mind.

But I did feel a little complimented by the fact.



Time, as it always does, had all of us drift apart.

However, looking back, her crush means even more to me now than it did then.



See, there was a purity to it that I can now more fully appreciate.

Certainly, there was an undercurrent in the deepest recesses of her mind of budding sexuality.

But it was more awe than anything.

Seeing a boy [man] doing what he loves.

Being passionate.

Having others follow his lead.


Expressing himself deeply, yet wordlessly.

And wanting to be a part of that to her core.



Thus, I say:

Darlin’, I’ll remember that look in your eyes until the day I die.

Though, Truth be told, I hope we never meet again.

See, I’d prefer to remain that black-maned, dark-eyed, brooding guitar player – always clad in black – that captured the first stirrings of what would become your woman’s heart.

So, thank you, Holly.

Wherever you are.







4 Responses to ““Just like every cowboy…””

  1. Aye, sir. This is a form of magic we rarely see except from the woman’s eyes. But as some know, it applies at least as much to us.

  2. I think this speaks to one of the reasons why getting married young is a good idea. I had that same sense of awe and innocent admiration for my husband when I met him shortly after I turned 20 and he was turning 31. I know I would not have had the same impression of masculine power if I were to have met him a decade later, and respect and submission to him would not have come so naturally. I would still like him if I had met him at 30, but by then my experiences with life and dating other men would have stolen away that sense of wonder. He would be just another computer programmer living in a disheveled bachelor pad with a roommate. I would have probably met a dozen others just like him. But because I met him as young as I did, he seemed far more alpha then he really was, and even years later I can’t help but see him as an alpha and respect him as one despite his beta tendencies.

  3. […] “Just like every cowboy…” (Poison – Every Rose has its Thorn) […]

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