Thursday, March 31, 2011

It's not you. It's me.

Dear Sweet Thing,

It's been swell, but I think we've outgrown each other. I'm moving on. Can we still be friends?

Forever Your Yoko Ono,


This blog wasn't initially created as a promotion tool for the band (well, not primarily, anyway). And frankly, at this point, they don't really need it. They have legit marketing people in their entourage, as well as their own social networking outlets. No, this blog is about me. M-E. And because my life is so tightly woven with the happenings of the band, they tend to have a pretty strong supporting role in my posts. It's inevitable.

Let me be clear: I may have married 1/5 of the band, but I in no way represent them, nor do any of my opinions reflect theirs (necessarily). I do just genuinely believe in them, and for selfish reasons I know that their success = Alex's success = my success. That's just the way marriage works. It's a "we" thing. But maybe I overstep my boundaries because I'm privy to more information than the average fan or music-media outlet? I don't mean to. I'm just sharing everything about my life, which happens to include my relationship with a music-man. Is it OK to be truly-madly!-DEEPLY! in love with Alex but to fall (a little) out of love with the rest of it?

I get the Yoko rap, unfairly. The choice of name for this blog was intended to be tongue-in-cheek, but Yoko: I feel you, dog. This is a way, way, WAY awkward position. Especially being the only legit wife (so far). But I've been really supportive, insanely understanding, and non-meddling. Really, i have. I used to think of it this way: I am in first wife position and Sweet Thing is Alex's concubine - this other woman with whom I had to share and play nicely. Now, I know that the band is actually the first wife, and I've been demoted. Not because Alex loves me any less. It just has to be that way. She gets first dibs and I'm OK with that. 

I reiterated to him yesterday that I am fully in favour of him spending more and more waking hours on band stuff. He already works so hard. Big, big things are imminent. The more he works now, the better chances they/he/we have for a comfortable future. And remember, eventually it'll be my turn.

I can't really talk about my reasons (it's oversharing that gets me in trouble), but I'm steering this blog back to its original intent, with a focus on what it's like being me. The bandwife condition. I'm distancing myself from Sweet Thing, because, well, I am. It's like a really clean break-up. We'll still be friends, of course. After I'm done licking my wounds. I will continue to tweet great band news, post photos when I snap them, and share videos and links on Facebook. But, this break-up is for the best. I'm reclaiming this blog as mine; the disassociation gives me more freedom.

It's not my job to act as a marketing arm of the band, and I've never been asked to do it. And because I'm just so bloody awkward, my helpful intentions are frequently misinterpreted. It IS my job, however, to be a rock for my husband and support him in whatever he does. It's also my job to think about myself and to not count on Alex's success. Not rocket science, right? Maybe it's not my time to pursue my own big dream in a real/all-encompassing way just yet, but it doesn't mean that my own pursuits (as tadpole as they may be so far) are meaningless.

Monday, I start a new "real" job as the EA to the President of a big Canadian bath & beauty company. I'm getting more wholesale interest in Dudley & Bea. I'm staying on as a freelance writer with blogTO. I'm considering a one-hour bike commute to work. I'm practicing hot yoga again. While Alex will be spending a lot of time on the road with Wife #1 (and no room for stowaways), I need to divert focus away from feeling left out and lonely. 

It's energy better spent on me.

Images: pages from If We Ever Break Up, This is My Book by Jason Logan.


  1. I like this post. You are number one always. And if you aren't good to yourself, you are not good to anyone. :)

  2. the you parts were always my favorite!