The dating world is a nasty, nasty beast that only grows fiercer with time. It’s a world that’s especially difficult to navigate in the third largest city in the country…as a (slightly clueless) college student.
All of my relatives preach to me that this time in my life should usher in the most vibrant, exciting period of my thus-far painfully average dating existence, but I have only been met with disappointment. Well, not disappointment. Just…not what I expected. See, with age I expected a certain level of maturity, an understanding of communication, an education in proper utensil use (that’s another bad date story for a completely different time, if ever). I thought that the cryptic conversations and “Sex and the City”-style mind games would end. As the whiny teenage girl in me begins to rant and rave, I digress…
After hours of obsessing and complaining and some artistic swearing, I found a solution, an end to the shades of gray that hover like an impenetrable fog around every eligible bachelor, the air of intimidation that surrounds every half-sane girl with a sparkling smile. Not to place too much pressure on The Boss, but if all of us inhabitants of Singletown listened to Bruce Springsteen’s music, we’d be a hell of a lot happier, and most likely in relationships.
The solution seems too easy, doesn’t it? Allow me to explain.
In “Thunder Road,” Springsteen laments in his trademark Jersey drawl, “You ain’t a beauty but hey, you’re alright.” And the subject of his halfhearted affections is pretty OK with the jibe. Why? Because he was actually being honest and real about something. No lies, no embellishments, no games–just plain and honest. It may have helped that he’s, well, Bruce-fucking-Springsteen, but that’s beside the fact. Honesty is always the game to play, especially when you’re trying to trick someone into thinking that the sun shines out of your ass and that you’re really, actually, quite perfect for each other.
Springsteen couldn’t be more obvious depicting the implications of each hair color adorning his slew of female conquests in “Red Headed Woman.”
“Well, brunettes are fine man/ And blondes are fun/ But when it comes to getting a dirty job done/ It’ll takes a red headed woman.”
There you have it, Bruce Springsteen is not only the messianic preacher of the working class, but he’s also the patron saint of buxom gingers. Dating wisdom? Maybe not. Poetic narcissism? You bet.
And in “Jungleland,” a damn masterpiece in its own right, Springsteen divulges the simple pleasures that his beloved Jersey women offer, “Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain…” It’s the little things that makes this Jersey boy happy, even if it’s just gallivanting around the dilapidated nooks of the East coast. Denying glitz and drama, Springsteen is just a romantic simpleton with girls hording him in packs. While many of us don’t face the same challenges as our dear Boss, we can all be inspired by his complacency with next to nothing, romantically or otherwise.
Like all of us, Springsteen is no stranger to heartbreak. Only a truly broken man could pen the painfully raw lyrics, Despite his resounding romantic successes, even he has been denied his object of affection.”And though the world is filled with the grace and beauty of God’s hand/ Oh I wish I were blind when I see you with your man,” from “I Wish I Were Blind.”
There’s just something oddly comforting about hearing the pain in a handsome rock star’s voice when all of his romantic advances are swiftly denied. It’s a sick, singles mixer camaraderie.
“I’ll Work For Your Love” is an homage to every outlandish request Springsteen would fulfill for one lucky Theresa’s love. What’s so impressive about Springsteen and his high-octane femme chase is that he’s willing to artistically divulge his failures and openly admit his inadequacies, all while shamelessly worshiping his prospective conquests. Respect for the guy who can brush off a bitter defeat with a heartfelt utterance.
So there you have it, Bruce Springsteen, the patron saint of struggling daters. Or maybe this is me being ridiculously obsessed with The Boss. And maybe this is why I’m single.
At least I have my taste in music, right?
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SHANNON SHREIBAK
FRENCH PRESS 