Then I grew up, got married, and lived happily ever after. Okay, the "got married" part was true. The other two parts are still in the making.
I had mentioned in an earlier post that my first marriage was an abusive one. Being very shy, fearful, and having low self-esteem leading me to believe I couldn't do better than this, I meekly took his berating and allowed him to destroy the things that made me happy. This included my Duran Duran collection.
He let me keep my records, but only because I convinced him that many of them were collectibles and were worth a lot of money, should I sell them someday, but I wasn't allowed to listen to them. The same goes for my DD pins. They were "collectibles" but I couldn't wear them. He never knew about my DD earrings. He once caught me singing a DD song to the baby. The fight after that was worse than P.E. in junior high.
Because he liked the movie Labyrinth, he let me listen to some David Bowie, but he became angry when I tried telling him that DD music is influenced by Bowie and therefore similar. I gave up. DD was to be a thing of the past and I was to focus on the man I married. Period.
Emotionally, spiritually, and mentally, I was worn down to a nub. With the exception of my kids, much of my world was ice.
Seven years later, I reached the point that I had had enough. I grew a pair and kicked his butt out.
I had a new delivery driving job at the time and I tuned in to an 80s station. It was like visiting old friends. They played everything from that beloved decade!
The best part of the station wasn't even the songs, though. There were regular listeners who called in and some of them called regularly. They were a hoot! Regular listeners got to know these callers almost like family.
There was one caller in particular that I seriously could not believe. He called himself Durandy and gave flavorful monologues about his love for Duran Duran. His descriptions of love were beautiful, even sensual.
At first, I was pissed. I thought that he was making fun of Durannies. How dare he! If he didn't like Duran Duran, he didn't need to belittle those who did!
But over time, it became apparent to me that Durandy was for real. His raves for his beloved band were genuine and I found myself appreciating his almost daily calls to the station.
Durandy became a bit of a local celebrity because of his delightful fascination with Duran Duran. His collection of memorabilia surpasses one of an average fan of his/her favorite band. He has a large storage containing posters, books, magazine articles, etc.
Durandy's collection was good for me. Although I have never met Durandy, much less even saw his collection, it was reassuring for me to know that it was possible for one to hold so tightly to a teenage comfort and still move through adulthood. He was not swayed to abandon Duran Duran the way I was. His passion lived through my years of stasis. It was as if he kept the dream alive for me!
I am now close to 40. My passion for Duran Duran is rekindled but not to the level that burned during my teen years. My collection still consists of some records, CDs, pins, and earrings. That is okay, though. I'm happy just to be able to listen to what I want and enjoy the memories of the fire without the fear of getting burned.
Thank You Durandy for keeping a torch lit through the decades. You are an inspiration.
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