Richard Butler Doesn’t Want Me

Or…I swear, I’m not stalking you.

 I saw the Psychedelic Furs the other night and they were as brilliant as ever.  Once again, I had the opportunity to give my man, Richard Butler, one of my business cards – and, once again, he hasn’t called.

“Once again?”, I  hear you ask.

 Cue up flashback soundtrack……..

About a year ago,  I had the divine pleasure of seeing Psych Furs in concert from a view just feet from the stage.  Richard was singing to the audience and I noticed that his pants pocket, slightly open, was a mere arm’s length from my face.  Stealthily, I grabbed one of my business cards and placed it gingerly in his pocket – he didn’t even notice.  It was the coup of the season for me.  Later, when I had the chance to meet him,  I told him to check his pocket.  “Check my pocket?” he asked, quizzically.  Alas, with all of his gyrating about and such, it seems my card had fallen out.  I’m sure I gave him another, but I was too awestruck to make much of an impression.  (Did I mention I’m really not one of THOSE types of people – rockstars in general, big deal…but Richard Butler, that’s a whooollleee different story).

 Fast forward one year. 

 Of course,  I was running late – spending much more time than usual getting my look “just right”.  Two newly-purchased, sparkly flower clips adorned the left side of my hair, showing off my bob and bringing out my 1920’s flapper side.  It was another great show and I, slowly, had managed to wiggle my way up to two rows from the stage.  Three quarters of the way through the show, I realized the pants pocket trick wouldn’t stand by me again – he was out of reach and the front row was not budging.  He was jumping about on stage, grabbing the hands of his adoring fans (Who are all these people ?).  My brilliant idea hit me in a flash – I took one of the adorable clips from my hair,  clipped it on my business card (the new one that says I’m a chef, not the old one that had my corporate job on it) and placed my hand out.  He grabbed it like a lake bass going for a worm.  I wish I could have captured the look – he looked at it like “what the heck” and then looked back at me with this questioning look.  Perhaps I should be going for an adoring look from him and not this quizzical one I keep receiving – but, hey, at least he’s looking.  He placed it in his pocket and flashed me a smile.  I think I melted.

 It’s been a few days now and, no, he hasn’t called or emailed. But hope springs eternal, and, yes, I HAVE been checking.  I know it’s silly to keep up the pursuit, but what’s a little harmless adoration anyway?  It makes ME happy.  I’m waiting to receive the Cease and Desist order any day.

1 thought on “Richard Butler Doesn’t Want Me


    Flashback to some hazy memory in the 80s .. driving around in a white Cadillac Cimmaron .. broken sun roof open .. all acid washed denim mini skirts and blue eyeliner.. blasting ANGELS DON’T CRY over and over.. and over and over.. and over and over and over and .. sigh.. OVER again.

    In fact.. I believe I can still do his accent!! LOL

    I am so sure my husband is going to want to track you down and deflate your next souffle because that song is going to be sticking in my head ALL WEEK!!

    Great post! Great writer! I’m glad I found your blog!!

    ~ Leese


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