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Sludge in the City :: Redefining the Buddy System, 4/4/05

 

Looking for a real-life dish on the lives and escapades of rock?s best and worst stars? Metal Sludge found it?s own Carrie Bradshaw in Tawny Brown, a chick whose stiletto pumps have more notches in them than we can count. She?s agreed to kiss and tell in her new column, Sludge in the City. From her exploits dating musicians and rock stars to her adventures working in the music industry, there is very little Tawny won?t reveal.

Redefining the buddy system
Tawny Brown


Sometimes, there is very little distinction between being a fan, girlfriend, or groupie. It can be maddening to be close with a particular musician, to know the intimate details of his life right down to the names and birthdays of his sister?s children, but to never know exactly where you stand with him. God knows it?s not a question you want to ask. Because the truth is, if you have to ask the question, you probably don?t want the answer.

A year of my life was spent in the company of a certain lead singer. Though I can never say anything truly bad about him, I can admit I nearly drove myself insane trying to figure out our relationship. We went out on dates (usually weekly), we spent time together where we didn?t have sex, and when we did have sex, it ranged from sweet to pornographic. He even once took me to and from the hospital when I needed to have minor out patient surgery.

So what did that make me? By all practical definitions, I was his girlfriend. Did the fact that I also went to his shows make me a groupie? After too many hours of banging my head against a wall of ambiguity, I?ve decided I was really more of an idiot than anything else. My problem was that I didn?t realize soon enough that it wasn?t about me being his girlfriend, it was about him not wanting to be a boyfriend. The fact that he was screwing several other girls in addition to me should have been my first clue to this.

Had I come to this realization sooner, I probably would have saved myself a ton of grief. Still, however clear things may seem in hindsight, some relationships are nearly impossible to define. My relationship with Chad, from the band Enough Already has been going on for more than 12 years and I still have no clue what the hell either of us is doing.

Though half the people on the planet claim to have a ?close, personal? relationship with Chad based solely on the fact that they?ve lit up a joint with the guy, my own connection with him goes considerably deeper. We met right after the release of the band?s first album and had an instant rapport. In addition to being one of the friendliest guys in rock, Chad is just a good person overall. Few people that I?ve met in this music industry have been more supportive or encouraging of my career as a writer.

That?s not to say our relationship was strictly professional by any means. I?ll be honest, the reason I started working in the rock scene was to have a better means of getting my hands on band members I liked. And I liked Chad the instant I saw him.

I have a thing for tall guys anyway, and the fact that Chad towered over me despite the four-inch heels on my boots was an instant turn on. I can also tell a lot about a guy by the way he hugs: how tight he squeezes, where he puts his hands, and how much body contact he gives are all indicators of how good he?ll be in bed. Chad gives very good hugs.

So of course we started having sex. The first time was back when I hosted a late-night radio show. The small station I worked for essentially cleared out after 8 p.m. With the exception of the custodial staff and a few random office workers, I had the entire place to myself. I took the Howard Stern approach to being a disk jockey: keep the studio as dark as possible, get your guests comfortable, and always have a safety song cued up.

It never failed. Chad and I spent our entire on-air interview flirting outrageously. Therefore, it was no surprise when, after going to commercial, Chad came up behind me and started kissing the back of my neck. I turned around to face him, and the next thing I knew, I was propped up on the console, legs wrapped around his waist, and feeling his hands slide over my bare thighs.

I felt his face press against my cheek, his breath in my ear.

?Darling,? he said.

I moaned a response.

?The commercials are over.?

My eyes snapped open. Dead air is easily the worst sin a DJ can commit. With my heart racing, I shoved Chad off me to reach the CD player. Thankfully, I had a song cued up and was able to get it on the air.

Chad and I started laughing as the strains of Great White?s ?Mista Bone? filled the room.

?That could not be a more appropriate song,? I cooed pulling Chad to me. My listeners that night were treated to four in a row from Great White while Chad and I had wonderful, illicit sex in the control room.

Back then it was easy to define what Chad and I were doing. But as the years passed, Chad and I inevitably became closer and I, consequently, became more confused. Our intimacy was as much mental as it was physical, because during the times I had a serious boyfriend, I?d cut Chad off from sex. But whenever my heart would be broken or whenever I was feeling lonely, Chad would always be there to keep me company. I suspect he?s seen me through just as much ?if not more? heartache than most of my girlfriends.

It?s odd being with him now, because in a way I feel like we?re an old married couple. There?s more than a decade of sex, conversation, and fun between us, making him, without a doubt, my longest running relationship. We know each other?s secrets, we?ve met the other?s families, and we without a doubt know exactly where to touch to make the other smile.

But I still can?t figure out what we?re doing. There have always been constraints on how far our relationship could extend (from wives to general lifestyle issues), and I?m fairly certain we?ve hit our limit. Musicians, even the best of them, can only give so much. I just want more than Chad can give me, I guess.

To his credit, he puts up with my long periods of silence while I try to make other relationships work and still continues to offer me help, professionally and personally, without my asking for it.

I saw him again recently, on tour with the band Big Cat and snuggling up next to him was warm and comfortable.

?You and I have such history,? he said. ?But you know, we?re friends first. No matter what happens, you and I will always be buddies.?

It was a good thing to hear. I?m never going to be able to be his girlfriend, and I?ll definitely never be just his groupie, but I?m very happy to be his friend. And if he continues going down on me as well as he does, from time to time I?ll even cook him dinner. What are friends for? ?

Note: The names have been changed to protect the innocent, the not-so-innocent, and the lying, cheating scumbags from their wives? wrath when they get off tour. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, in rehab or in jail is purely coincidental.

Tawny Recommends?

Sexual position: Ladies, have him sit on a chair, or the edge of the bed. Climb on top, but face away from him and go wild. Not only does it feel incredible, it?s also a great thigh workout.

Drink: Instead of adding ice to your whiskey, add a small scoop of French vanilla ice cream. Or drink it straight outta the bottle, as I?m prone to do when at the local strip club.

New bands: Gold Coast Refuse and P #9

Book: Wonderland Avenue by Danny Sugarman

Pickup line (for guys): Seriously, lines don?t work. Your best bet is to just introduce yourself (but please don?t shake her hand!!) and ask if she?d like company. If she says no, leave. You?re not going to win her over by whining, bitching, or hitting on the chick next to her.

Porn: Guys – if you want to introduce your chick to girl-girl action, rent anything by Andrew Blake. It is very pretty, non threatening, woman-centered action. It worked on me. A boyfriend introduced me to it many years ago, and he was rewarded with some fun three-way action later. Of course, when I started going to the strip club and picking up chicks without him, he broke up with me.

Got something to say about Tawny’s new column at Metal Sludge? Well don’t fucking bother us about it! Send all questions, comments, hatemail and other associated feedback to [email protected].

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