NAMM V (Girl Drama)

After a long, loud day on the NAMM showroom floor, my small group of friends and I were hungry. We kept running into others we knew and our group grew larger. Next thing you know, we were seated at a rectangular table stretching halfway across Morton’s Steak House. Shrimp cocktails, raw oysters, fresh crab and steaks seemed to magically appear. Cocktails and wine were flowing like a stream.

The restaurant was filled with faces, overhead music and chatter. It was like an upscale, toned down, elegant version of the convention scene earlier that day. A couple tables over, I noticed one of my jazz guitar heroes, George Benson, dining with a group of reps. At our table, we had over a dozen guys and girls, mainly hard rock and metal musicians. Some of us knew each other, while many were introduced for the first time. One guy, who everyone kept calling ‘Whit,' turned out to be Whitfield Crane, singer of the band “Ugly Kid Joe." It was his fortieth birthday and as his friends kept buying him drinks, by the end of the dinner, he tipped his chair too far back and fell over. The night was just beginning.

Since I’d been put up at the Marriott, right on the grounds of the convention, I invited everyone up to my room, along with other friends who were texting asking what I was up to. It quickly turned into a full on party (amazing how that happens). As the iPod speakers blasted, much more alcohol was consumed and the door was knocked on again and again. As more and more musicians and friends showed up, the room began to resemble a night club.

I noticed that two of those present were these attractive young women I knew who didn’t know each other. Each was somewhat glamorous and sophisticated and both were very petite. One of them was barely five feet tall, the other one only about four foot '7. But what they lacked in height, they more than made up for in attitude.

The first presented the aura of a cover girl from Cosmopolitan or some other women's magazine. She acted as if everyone else should know and respect her. The other was like a character from the girlie TV drama "Sex And The City." She spoke as if scripted from that show and I wouldn't be surprised if she lifted quotes from it.

Meanwhile, the drinks continued to pour. And as each girl talked to me, she would draw hostile glares from the other. Awkwardness had decided to crash the party.

The truth was, both of these were girls with whom I’d had brief but passionate romantic affairs with earlier in the year. One of them would still occasionally 'drunk dial' me and profess her love. The other continued to hint that I was a fool for letting her go, but if I played my cards right, the door might still be open.

There had been reasons I'd been interested. Each could be described upon first glance as 'sexy.' And in addition to their pretty faces and nice bodies, both were charming, talented artistically and very good at their jobs. One worked in finance and photography, while the other was in the music industry. But there were reasons I'd lost interest.

The first girl had wit and intelligence but with painful acerbity. She would insult everyone around, act like it was funny and just didn't know when to quit. It become a chore keeping up with her routine. Whenever I tried to gently let her know this, she'd pull a superiority complex and a guilt trip at the same time. "You're like the rest" she'd say with a laugh. "You just can't handle me."

The other one seemed to think I might be her future husband, despite not knowing me on a deep level. She was also someone I could never trust. I'd listen as she'd call and lie to her long distance boyfriend as we were spending the evening together. She was also attempting this new 'rocker chick' persona which was nothing like the girl I'd met, who'd seemed nice and normal. She was trying too hard to have rock hair and clothes and was slowly turning into one of those NAMM freaks.


Both suffered from a sense of self importance on the outside that probably stemmed from a deep insecurity within. They had personalities that seemed forced and put on. In each case, I'd hoped to cut through this insecurity with trust and open communication, coaxing each girl to level with me and creating a safe place where she could be honest about who she really was. But in the end, both were trapped in these characters they'd created for themselves, like little female Frankensteins. Frakenstina's.

Now they'd both shown up my impromptu hotel room party. I hadn't want to ignore them, so I'd answered each of their texts and gave them my hotel room number, certain each would be hurt if I ignored them. Suddenly I realized I had lead them on, which was worse. It was my fault for not anticipating this. And they each seemed convinced that the only thing keeping them from having a night and possible relationship with me was the other girl.

I tried to walk around and go talk to others for a while, hoping that each would leave on her own accord. But whenever I came back to the other side of the room, there they were with competing glares, subtle remarks and smirks.

Meanwhile there was a third attractive girl, even more picturesque but not compelled to prove her own self importance. She’d been drinking too, but instead of becoming overly talkative like everyone else (myself included), she just rested quietly, observing the whole drama with the first two girls. She had relaxed energy, wasn’t competitive or bitchy towards any other women and lacked that strange exaggerated persona of the other two. The next day, we'd laugh about the night's 'girl drama.' And about a year or so later, her and I would end up dating.

Now before I go any further here, let me say one thing: I’ve avoided writing about this type of personal stuff so far and have no desire to be like radio star Howard Stern, a favorite entertainer of mine who is comfortable revealing how he trims his pubic hair. But in the last few years, I’ve had some really interesting relationships with women. And as someone who used to be terribly insecure and even afraid around them, I feel like to not share any of these stories would be to sell you short as my reader and sell me short as a writer.

So anyway, the first girl, Carrie*, who looks a model but has a personality like right wing conservative nut Anne Coulter, becomes semi annoyed, not just with the other girls, but with me for not paying enough attention to her. She starts to aggressively make jokes about me, like a bad comedy roast. Most in the room are oblivious, caught in their own loud conversations, but the few who hear are all giving looks of discomfort as she lampoons my taste in music, accuses me of knowing ‘nothing’ about wine and rips into my choice of clothes.

Then the other girl, Becky*, becomes threatened enough by the first girl and equally pissed off at me. She starts coming on to some guy in front of me, laughing at his jokes exaggeratingly and obviously out of desperation. Soon after, she’s sitting in his lap, glancing at me for a reaction.

Neither girl's behavior does anything to reignite my interest. In fact, it has the opposite effect. It's late at night after being at NAMM all day and drinking all night. I have nothing to say to either one. I can barely process a thought, only feelings of discomfort.

As Carrie hammers away with the insult humor, I absorb her verbal assault like light punches. Then Becky, still in this guys lap, starts massaging his shoulders. I flash back to a few months ago, when she was naked in my bed and am grossed out by this display. I have no interested in competing with this guy, but I’m not into watching her with him either.

Finally it all gets to be too much, the crowd, the noise, the drinking, the girl drama. A switch goes off in my head and I decide to kick everyone out of my hotel room.

“I’m sorry…” I declare in a loud slur. “But everyone has to leave now (hiccup!). It’s been great. Uh… goodnight (hic)! ” I’m like a cartoon of someone drunk, except it’s no exaggeration.

In less then five minutes, I’ve shaken hands and/or high-fived all the guys on their way out and hugged the girls, except for Becky, who ignores me and follows that guy.

The only one left is Carrie and her obnoxious mouth which deserves to get taped shut. She looks at me with kitten eyes as I point to the door. "Did I offend you?" Silence. "I did didn't I?"

“I think you should go.”

“So who was that girl? What was going on with her?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

"Are you really mad?"

"You offended everybody. You don’t know when to stop. Please leave?”

“ Who does she think she is, looking at me like that and then talking over me everytime I tried to talk to you?”

“You were worse. You think you're funny but you don’t recognize that others don’t get it.”

“That’s their problem if they don’t get it. I don’t care what they think. Are you sure you don't want me to stay?”

“I do care what they think. They’re my friends. And if you can't respect that then I can't respect you. And no, I don't want you to stay”

She looks down. “I’m sorry. Can we just sit and talk for a few?”

“No, you're leaving. Goodnight.”

“You’re kicking me out?" she says with a flirty look. "Do you know how many guys hit on me today and wish I was in their room?“

I suppose she's right. At one time I would have dreamed of someone so hot staying with me. But now I have other options. And I'm thinking about her behavior moments before.

“Well here's what I wish." I'm raising my voice now. " That you would get the fuck out of my room! Now!” I push her out the door.

It's almost 3am. In about six hours, I'll be waking up and warming up my fingers. I have an early solo acoustic performance at the Yamaha booth tomorrow.

It's been an interesting first day of NAMM.



*(Not her real name)