It started off innocently enough one night while I was aimlessly making my way through MySpace in early 2009. Yes, MySpace. I may have been one of the few tumbleweeds left on that website. Actually, I like to think I was the final one on it. It made me feel like Will Smith in I Am Legend. It’s like the final man left on earth scenario. Let me have my badass moment, okay?
While going through numerous cringe-worthy profiles featuring an overload of colors, glitters, and terrible layouts, I stopped on a particular one that was being used to promote a band called Fun. The first song that my finger found the play button to was called “Be Calm.” And from there, an unhealthy obsession began.
It was innocent at first, I swear. A few clicks here and there of their songs, a few articles about the band members, a few…hundred plays of their videos on YouTube. I had a silly crush. It would go away in a few weeks when I found another band to fall head over heels for. But as soon as I felt I was getting over it, they would find a way to pull me right back in. They were doing a show in my town. On a whim, I got tickets to see them. I figured if I saw them in person it would shatter my illusions about them and once and for all I would be cured.
The show was barely full. I paid $14 for my ticket. There was enough room for the lead singer, Nate Ruess, to jump into the crowd and dance a few feet away from me while belting out “Take Your Time (Coming Home).” He ran back up to the stage, but not before putting his hands on my sister’s shoulder. That bitch.
It was a one night stand. I kept telling myself that knowing deep down it was more than that. This one didn’t sneak out in the morning without leaving a message, no. This one just kept creeping into my heart. While they were quiet on the music front, I kept reading more and more about how Nate was an avid smoker, or how Jack had a sister named Rachel who did fashion, or how Andrew once wrote a musical on the life of Christopher Columbus. We were getting closer.
When Fun. appeared again with their second album, Some Nights, I was ready to propose. But the world took notice as they all sang “We Are Young” in unison. Talk shows, magazine articles, songs in commercials, movie trailers, and live performances followed. They were sharing their love with others and sending me mixed signals. No, I did not want to share them. What we had was special, I knew it.
“We Are Young” and “Some Nights” played on a loop on radio stations. They obtained more fans. Their shows went up in ticket prices and down in available seats. They wrapped up their massive year with Grammy Awards. It was complete. They not only had my heart––they had the hearts of millions everywhere. I mean, nobody cared that I knew about them before they were well known, or that Nate danced beside me, or that I knew facts about them. No, nobody cared. This proposal of mine had to be put back on the shelf, forever it seemed.
A love letter by Bryan Brunati