My Glamorous Life as a Scumbag Drummer
Or, the Mindfuck of Touring While Being in a Relationship
marlon schaeffer
WHAT TOURING LOOKS LIKE A motel in New Jersey.
Tools
Black water in the middle of Puget Sound. An uneasy December night. 1:50 a.m. The port-side deck on the last ferry for Bainbridge was empty. I was standing by the railing watching the city grow small. My cymbal bag was next to me, tied to my right ankle, and there was a cinder block in it. I use the cinder block when I play—it goes in front of my kick drum. It's impossible to play when the kick drum is unstable. The rope tied to my ankle was new and triple-knotted on both ends. I'd go down in the Sound upright, maybe see fish eyes. Jeweled fish eyes. But the cold would sting. And the water pressure. Puget Sound is 900 feet deep in places.
I had become nothing. I was over. I was going over. I had come back from a six-week tour with 40 dollars to show for it. My Sex in the City–fed, man-eating girlfriend was done with me. According to her, I was a womanizing asshole who spent all his time in bars. I was scum and a failure. I was a waste. Exhausted from the touring and weeks of nonsleep, I believed her. My shame had risen to a level I couldn't take anymore.
Stranger Personals
All I'd thought about for days was coming home to her and the apartment we lived in. The Christmas lights in the little tile kitchen. Getting to sit at our breakfast nook with toast and jam. It wasn't much, but the little things in the back of my mind were what kept me going on that financial bust of a tour. But I didn't come home to a smiling face. I came home to a bunch of packed boxes. She was moving out. She couldn't "take it anymore." She accused me of cheating on her with her best friend. (I couldn't stand her best friend and hadn't seen or talked to her in months.) She needed to be with someone who "wanted more from life." She needed to be with someone who could be financially stable.
I stared at the water. The depth taunted. Would they find my body? How would they break the news to my parents? I picked up the cinder block and held it against my chest. A plane flew overhead, and I thought about what the pilot dreamed the night before. I thought about the spin of the earth. The time to jump came. Now, must jump. Must do it.
We met at a Re-bar fashion show. I fell in love from across the room. I snagged her business card off a table, e-mailed her, and we met for tea at the Panama Hotel Tea House. We had white tea. She had amber eyes. She didn't tell me she was seeing someone else until the end of our date. But I'd suspected. She said she was trying to get out of her current relationship, and my feelings for her made me oblivious to all that that meant. I was single as could be. There were worlds in her eyes. They were all I saw. She told me she wanted to see me again. Her boyfriend was out at sea running a fishing business. Nothing wrong with getting to know her, right?
We started seeing each other regularly. Her boyfriend would be back in six weeks, and she was going to break up with him so we could be together. I was totally in love with her, and she seemed to feel the same about me. We batted rocks with driftwood into Puget Sound. I met her mom. I wouldn't kiss her while she was in a relationship with someone else, although I guess you could say what we were doing was already, in a way, cheating.
She didn't end it with her boyfriend when he came back in town. She disappeared with him for 10 days. Then she told me she was going on a business trip to L.A. But that was only a half-truth. After the business trip, she went to Burning Man with him, which I found out from other people. She finally fessed up to it. Needless to say, I was devastated. She came back and after a few weeks started calling me. She said she didn't know what to do. I remember her telling me that she loved me and that her boyfriend was controlling. She said she was afraid of him, and I thought I could show her real love. One night, she called and said he was out of the picture—that she had broken up with him for good and wanted to be with me. I was happier than the sun.
Most musicians are impossible to deal with, and I'm probably no exception, but it seemed like our lives/careers/neuroses fit together perfectly. She loved the music and the shows. She loved coming to see me play. She ran a little fashion business, and I would wear her outfits. She helped and donated her time and services to the band's music video. We made such a good match. She even talked about wanting to come on tour with me and sell her clothing designs. We were each other's biggest fans. It all hummed along perfectly—until I would leave for tour. Before I'd go, she would become accusatory and mean. She was always apprehensive about it. I would tell her I loved her more than anything and I would be back in a matter of weeks. I called and texted her multiple times a day. The tours ended up being hell, and she would cry half the time we spoke, and there was nothing I could do or say to make her happy.
It would get to a point where she would stop taking my calls. And when we did talk, she would accuse me of being with some girl. I'd get defensive and we'd argue. It tortured us. I spent more energy worrying about her than playing music, which I should have taken as a sign that the relationship wasn't working. The pressure that touring puts on a relationship amplifies all the problems in the relationship—and every relationship has problems. But then I'd make it home and things would calm down.
How do other musicians do it—go on tour while being in a relationship? It wasn't just her who hated it. I hated it, too. I was full of jealousy because of all the other guys constantly calling her. I didn't know how to deal with it. I said mean things to her about them and cut down their sleazy, cologne- wearing, fashion-mogul ways. She had lots of men in her life. Leaving for tour with them swarming all around her was hard for me. She would start out supportive; she'd wish me luck. But three days in, everything would devolve. I would miss her call, not return it quickly enough—and the cycle of doubt would begin. She thought I was with some 19-year-old college girl, doing my Led-Zeppelin-on-tour-at-the-Edgewater imitation, when really I was stuck driving in Cleveland rush hour, two hours late to a club. I tried to show her I was faithful, but I don't think she believed me. I told her over and over that sloppy drunk girls at bars after shows aren't attractive, but she didn't hear me.
On her side of things, she was turning down invitation after invitation from other guys to go to Europe and Mexico for getaways. I felt like I had to compete with these guys the entire time I was with her. Her boyfriend before me kept at it, asking her out for Valentine's Day (for two years). I called them "the suitors"—guys who wanted to bang her, who always seemed to be on the scene. It riddled me with doubt.
And it was demoralizing to go on tours and not make money. To work that hard at something and come home empty-handed. But it was an investment—and like any other business, it takes money to make money. I also desperately needed her acceptance of what I was doing, which was never going to come. Touring was wrong. I was abandoning her, and my being away made her really sad. I tried and tried to show her I loved her, but it never worked. I could never prove it. I never had enough money to fly her to Mexico. I wasn't going to amount to anything. She would flip me off in front of her friends when we went out. Never once did I ask myself why I was with her. Never once did I realize it wasn't a good match. She was so beautiful, it intoxicated me, owned me, and caused me to make wrong decisions at every turn.
I was too busy trying to prove I wasn't a bad guy, too busy competing with the suitors she constantly dangled in front of me. What a mindfuck.
I was standing next to the railing on the Bainbridge ferry, and I couldn't move. Couldn't jump. Yet another thing I couldn't do. I stared at the water. I stood there holding the cinder block, and kept holding it until the boat pulled into the Bainbridge terminal. A voice over the loudspeaker blared, "All passengers must disembark the vessel." So I did. I untied the rope and walked off. I put the cinder block behind a Winslow Dumpster, sat down, and stared at the boat I was too afraid to jump off of. I stared at it until the sun rose. Then I reboarded, rode back to the city, and reentered my life as a broke drummer scumbag who couldn't do anything right.
I look back on that night and think: What the fuck was I doing? I can't believe I had become that low. I almost sank myself to the bottom of Puget Sound because of some stupid relationship? A relationship that was doomed from the moment it started? But this is what touring can do to a person's mind. Touring can wipe away common sense. Isolation in the van gives you tunnel vision. Those endless hours on the freeway heading home, my self-doubt and self-hatred grew and grew. I didn't want to be coming back broke. I didn't want to lose the girl I loved, or thought I loved.
Somehow though—even though I was too broke to impress her, too broke to make her happy—I had paid her share of the rent the month I was on tour. In fact, I'd been paying for half of her rent since we moved in together, and the security deposit. And somehow I was paying for her car insurance. And working for her business for free every weekend. Somehow she had such huge issues with my financial situation.
Meanwhile, dudes would call at midnight, two in the morning. She would never talk to them in front of me. I would ask why they were calling at 2:00 a.m., and she would say it was work-related. I asked if they knew she had a boyfriend, and she would say yes. Once, I picked one of the calls up and asked the guy. He didn't know about me. But the call was totally work-related, at 2:00 a.m., on a Friday night. She said I was abusive and controlling because I picked up her phone. If that was going on while I was in town, I could only imagine what it was like when I was gone. But I was the bad guy; I was the flirtatious asshole. My sense of self was zero. I thought, This can't be happening to me. I know I'm better than this. Please tell me I'm not really in a relationship like this.
It's part of a touring musician's job to flirt—to talk to people, to hustle, to sell CDs and merch. Do I want to have sex with every person I talk to at a show or sell a CD to? No. What I want to do is make money, make a living, and meet people who come out to hear music. Meeting nice people on the road when you're far away from home is golden. But I was losing my ability to do it. As soon as we finished a set and it was my turn to man the merch booth, I felt ashamed. I couldn't talk to anyone—that would be flirting. I wanted to hide in the greenroom.
We started going through each other's phones and computers. It was madness. I would ask her if she was talking to her ex-boyfriends and hanging out with them. She would say no. Her phone showed they had spoken five nights in a row. She'd pick up my phone and see a call from my brother, not recognize the number, and say I was cheating on her. She had forgotten my birthday, but we spent three counseling sessions on my leaving for a two-week tour. I wanted it all to stop, but it kept getting deeper.
It was embarrassing to look through her phone and e-mail. I never got the sense she felt bad looking through mine. I looked because I had to know. And sure enough, she was lying through her teeth. I found one of the suitors on her MySpace page and wrote him to see if he knew she had a boyfriend. He replied, "I didn't know she had a boyfriend, but I would have probably act [sic] the same as you. ;) Thanks for getting back to me. Ciao."
She would look through my phone to even the score, but there was nothing to see. After being with her for a year, I had no more female friends. She accused me of being sexual with every single one of them. I wasn't even allowed to hang out with my cousin. I sat there and took the lies and felt lower and lower because of it.
I did the guy thing and thought I could make it better. I could show her my love was real. Any money I had on tour, I spent on gifts for her. There were no other women—just me trying to pay down a student loan, play music, and make ends meet. For bands that aren't on a major label, touring is a grind. There's no glamour whatsoever. Few bands lead the Radiohead life. Touring for midlevel bands is like working on a fishing boat. A typical day finds you crammed in a van, rushing to get to the next city and venue. If you're not driving, you're sleeping or trying to. Food is from Taco Bell and truck stops. Once at the venue, you unload the gear and wait for a sound check. After sound check, there may be a couple hours for dinner. Then you come back, set up, play your set, wait until the last band is finished, load out, pack up, and get paid. Nights end with you crashed on someone's floor next to spilled bong water. Sleep is maybe four hours. You wake up and do it all again. Twenty nights in a row of this leads to a strung-out headspace. There's never privacy, there's no place for privacy, and the stress is gargantuan.
How could I have time to be intimate with someone while I was on the road? I barely had time to microwave truck-stop breakfast burritos.
I think a lot about the mindfuck of it, the jaws of contradiction, the paradox. She needed and wanted me to make more money from touring—if I was going to do this with my life, I did need to make more money from it. I got that. But in order for that to happen, there would need to be more people at the shows, which meant more girls, which was not okay, either. So I was screwed both ways. Come to think of it, she wasn't okay with me talking to guys at shows, either. One time, a guy I had known for 10 years came to a show and got really drunk. At the end of my set, he ran up and gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek to congratulate me. He was shitfaced. I was thankful he was there. I hadn't seen him in forever, and he paid $12 to see me play. She accused me of having a gay affair with him. He was straight.
I begged for us to get couples counseling. And after months of my begging, she relented. I wanted to establish trust and communication. I wanted to hear her feelings and work things out. But the counseling didn't help. She dominated the sessions, and the counselor just enabled her issues, never calling them out. I was "leaving" her when I toured, I wasn't "making enough money," and I was "interacting with girls at bars"—a huge fear of hers. I tried for two years to prove I wasn't a sinner, and never could. How do you prove that something that didn't happen didn't happen? That is the crazy thing about a relationship with a lot of built-in distance: You're not around each other. You just don't know. Your worst suspicions grow and grow, and you have no way of knowing what's real.
What the hell was I doing with this girl? How pathetic was I? I was too in love with her, or obsessed, or infatuated, to realize that deep down I would never trust her. I couldn't face it. My friends told me to end it. But I thought it was love; I could show her, show them. I wasn't going to abandon her. Meanwhile, she had talked so much shit on me around town, I'd pass people on the street who knew her and they would practically spit on me. After one of these encounters with a friend of hers, I e-mailed the friend asking what was up, and she replied:
I thought you were bad-news due to what she told me (horrific stuff!). I was just trying to support a friend at that time by believing her stories. Sorry.
I was that asshole drummer who treated his girlfriend so bad. I became extremely defensive and depressed. Toward the end, she had stopped acknowledging we were together at all, even though we lived together.
Then I started making money. We had toured through places a few times by then, people knew us, and we were getting some real money for the shows.
I was returning home from a 10-day run down the West Coast with money and gifts, feeling proud, when I got a call from a friend who had seen her with an ex-boyfriend. It crushed me back to nothing. I confronted her about it when I got home, and she said she hadn't seen him. She denied it. That was my greeting. Welcome home, have a lie. I said, "Let's look at your phone; I know you're lying." She said, "Let's look at your phone."
And then it happened. My lie. I handed her my phone, telling her I had nothing to hide, and there was a text on it from "Mich" that said, "I'm in boots and nothing else, get over here drummer boy."
It was from a girl who was the promoter's friend at a club in Vegas we had played. Everyone had exchanged numbers at an afterparty. "Mich" and I had exchanged stupid joking texts the day following the show. She was a single mother, really nice, and had paid to come see my band, which helped put a couple hundred dollars in my pocket. I never saw her or spoke to her or had anything to do with her again, but my girlfriend was on the offensive and I had a suspicious text on my phone. Never mind her lie. I froze, did the dumbest thing possible, and told her "Mich" was a guy in one of the bands we played with and we were joking around. She pressed the green button. I grabbed the phone out of her hand. Then I told her who "Mich" really was. She grabbed the phone back and threw it against the wall, smashing it into pieces. She screamed, "I knew it all along!" and ran out of the room.
We did the back-and-forth, off-and-on thing, until she eventually started dating a younger model down in L.A. Which is funny, because she had always told me that I was going to cheat on her with a 20-year-old model from L.A. She had gone to L.A. to clear her head, she said. She was dating this model guy but still telling me she loved me.
She came to two of my shows in Seattle and called me crying in the middle of the night telling me she missed me and really wanted to see me the next day. We met and talked about starting over, but when I found out about her L.A. model, I was pissed. I found out he was coming into town to stay with her. I sent her a text message or three telling her to fuck off. Then I had to go on a tour down the West Coast. She told Mr. Model about the ugly text messages I sent her, and he wrote me a threatening e-mail that said, in part:
Trent, you should immediately stop this insane and stupid behavior. I'm giving you a fair warning. You are creating a recipe for a very bad situation. I have very little patience for what you are doing... STOP THIS FUCKING SHIT NOW! I'm only going to say it once. The choice is yours from here on. Also, never talk to her again. EVER. You really don't want to get me involved. Trust me. Take this very very serious Trent. Continue writing and playing music and try to enjoy life. NEVER EVER CONTACT HER AGAIN; EMAIL, CALLS, TEXT, MESSENGER BIRDS. ERASE HER INFO. DON'T EVEN TELL HER ABOUT THIS MESSAGE. Its your choice. Don't get curious about me either. You don't want to see what happens. I never want to hear that she was contacted by you again man. JUST WALK AWAY AND LIVE IN PEACE.
Don't make me your enemy. I'm very serious. I cannot express how much I mean it.
P.S. my friends said you did well at the silver lake lounge the other night. keep up the good work. keep away from her. its a simple request. you'll be glad you did it.
she better not her about this message!!!!!!!!!
Thinking back on it, when she and I started dating, I'd basically written the same macho, chest-puffing letter to her ex (minus the threats of violence) telling him to stop contacting her and to leave us alone. I see now that it was a textbook cycle of emotional abuse and lies.
I didn't feel comfortable having my tour schedule in the public domain for her new boyfriend to see. He was obviously upset. Great, now I was going to have to start wearing a Kevlar vest. I was already freaked out enough as it was.
I texted her one last time telling her that lawyers had her new boyfriend's letter to me and that he should quit it with the threats. She replied that I deserved whatever he said. That's the last communication we had.
Over time, the hardest thing for me to accept was that this relationship never should have begun at all, that those three years were a waste, that I'm that big of an idiot. I'd like to say there are good times to remember, but they are hard to let in. She did have nice pets. Her Chihuahua was a pleasant animal. But the more I remember, the more I see how dumb I was. There are so many worse things going on in the world than a drummer's broken heart. I needed to get a grip. And I did. Finally.
I'm in another relationship now, and we're taking our time. We trust
each other and have our own lives. We don't get bogged down in all the
worry and contempt. Texting seems to be the best way for us to
communicate when I'm on a tour. Texting is a way to stay in touch
without trying to have an impossible phone conversation in a crowded
van. We talk when we can. It's been cool to tour and be able to put all
my energy into playing shows. Imagine that—touring and
concentrating on the music. It is possible to be in a relationship and
be on the road after all. We've been seeing each other for eight
months. 
Other people's relationship problems aren't that interesting unless a) you know them, or b) they are part of a well-written novel.
I wish the stranger would give me a platform to publicly vindicate myself to the people I feel wronged boy (hear that shitty ex-boyfriend?!?).
Seriously, how is this newsworthy, interesting, or of any merit whatsoever. If you're going to do a human-interest piece, pick something less lame and less shallow. And make the writing less hackneyed.
And it just so happens that sometimes shit like this is worth reading; particularly when the reader has gone through something remarkably similar.
also, where do i sign up to be his sugar momma?
The difference is that most of us just cringe when it comes up and try not to think of it, while Trent had the fortitude to write about it in excruciating detail. Props.
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My band toured 3 times last year and I came home with NO money every time. I would have been overjoyed to come back with $40. Good thing I wasn't dating her. Newer bands NEVER make money from touring. Such a sad trend to see happening these days.
This was a poignant piece on many differing levels. Really brings up an interesting subject matter. I'm really glad Trent had the balls to write it and I'm really glad I read it.
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You are my favorite kind of comment leavers. The ones who tell The Stranger what they should and shouldn't be publishing.
Point me to your paper and I'll see what stories you are printing, and I will judge.
No wait, my favorite comments are when anonymous commentors are complaining about other anonymous comments.
So you are my 2nd favorite kind of comment leaver.
That is all.
I don't think your experience proves that touring in a relationship is hard, I think it proves that you were dating a jealous, controlling asshole.
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23 - "this is the epitome of what is wrong with men in the pacific northwest....pathetic, whiny, weak-willed, mama's boys. Get your shit together fellas. The women up here want MEN, not dribbling little girls."
You are exactly right.
&
26 - "This article was a total waste of time. Who fucking cares about your bed wetting whinny pig crap. LOSER! Your current girlfriend will probably leave you when she finds out that you are still bitter over your ex. I feel sorry for her. You need to grow a pair of balls. Now make a song about that."
Sorry it was such a waste of time for you. And thanks for thinking about my balls. AC/DC already wrote a balls song.
Best of luck with that jealous anger. Real men are capable of emotions beyond blind tantrums.
My question, is why the fuck is the plug for this show taking a backseat to a masturbatorily self-absorbed diatribe that some dude wrote about his fucked up relationship? why would the stranger give this childish rant a venue? is this rag here to plug rock and roll shows or to stroke the egos of manbabies who play drums in rock and roll shows? reading it made me embarrassed, like i was watching Mark Mcgrath whine about getting molested on reality TV. didn't anyone think it was weird to publish those emails?
That dude is not the scene. the rock and roll show tonight is the motherfucking scene! see you there, bitches.
Well, we don't go out with psycho hose-beasts.
There were so many warning signs going into this that you chose to ignore, I don't know where to begin.
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And to those commenters who think this isn't worth reading - welcome to the Bitter Psychotic Bitch Club, psycho.
this story was less about the road, and more about his shitty girlfriend.
haha, take that shitty girlfriend!
23- your a cunt not a woman
& 29- fuck your "scene", now go hang out in it
Since the author is in a popular band, I'm sure there are plenty of people reading this who know the ex personally, and this absolutely comes off as little more than an attempt to embarrass and get revenge while gaining sympathy. Gross.
Uh, Trent does play in a hip hop act. Saturday Knights.
42
Too bad I know both you and this "ex". What you wrote is a bunch of one-sided lies, and selectively biased events, which serves of course to embarrass this girl and seek undeserved sympathy from those who don't know you.
I hope people are not that dumb.
Grow up. You are lucky that she didn't get a restraining order on you. And just by writing this out in public, it just shows, once again, that you are a controlling, vindictive psycho.
This is one heck of a way to ruin your band's reputation.
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Guys need to realize that a girl can get another man whenever she wants. If she is not already cheating it is because SHE LIKES YOU not because she is being watched by you.
As for the cologne wearing douchebags that may be true but his feelings about them is really a reflection of his own insecurity. Being able to dress like a douchebag without feeling like an idiot is a sign of confidence and women love confidence. This is why the average douchebag walking around in belltown on a Friday night can get chicks. They may dress like idiots but in a weird backwards way it makes them attractive to women.
Again I feel for this guy as he is not sure of himself when he is the envy of so many people in Seattle. So many people would LOVE to go on tour and come back broke or even in the hole. They would pay just to do it and run themselves into debt. His just needs to accept his own life before any women will. Women are not what complete you, they are attracted to a person who is complete.
I feel sorry for this new girlfriend, (if she exists) knowing full well that you have even been trying to contact this ex- in the past year, probably behind her back. A guy in his late 30s, who doesn't even have his own place, someone who can't hold down a simple job to make rent, irresponsible, controlling, and a stalker?
How does TheStranger get this guy to write? I hope you guys are not paying him much for this diatribe.
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And for what it's worth, almost all of us have some version of this story in our pasts. Glad you lived through it, too.
This girl lied her way through the entire relationship. She lied and had no conscience. She lied without regret. She worked him and played with his heart and his mind from day one.
I for one am glad to see her called out. I was friends with one of her previous exes and she cheated on him. And did the same thing to the guy before that.
Man Eater is right.
Whoever 'deslisla' is, you are full of shit. Who's the stalker? From your comments, you might want to look in the mirror. If there's a restraining order that needs to be filed, it doesn't need to be against him.
I'm glad you're here Trent. Keep it coming.
58
keep the beats flowing and your head out of your ass drummerboy.
Would you like to read an endless, pointless, entirely self-justifying diatribe about why I REALLY REALLY HATE my ex-girlfriend? And how I never did anything wrong EVER but she was a total lying bitch about it anyway? And, god, I bet she's really (finally!) gonna feel bad when she reads it.
You wouldn't? I can't imagine why not...
@ 50, Desisla: I'm late 30's and don't have my own place. Lost my job, and struggle for work to pay all my bills. I have a masters degree to pay for as well. Have you looked around? This author isn't not the only one in that boat. (No pun intended, too soon?) Or are you too busy being a bitch and playing your victim card to realize how off you are?
And to that: I've been regularly reading Trent's work in The Stranger for 2 years now and from what I can see online, he writes for multiple publications. I've seen and heard him play music in 4 or 5 separate projects and he's got mad skills on the kit. Regular work? Damn, I wish I was this busy.
He's a musician and a writer, doing it regularly and working hard. Fault him all you want, but you’re the one who ends up looking bad.
You stalk the comments then accuse someone of stalking. Your game is played and old. People like you need to realize other people aren't there for you to just walk over.
I had a very similar GF to this one. So this is personal.
But, taking it as read, it seems pretty obvious that Desisla is probably Trent's ex's current boyfriend, or a man in her life that she has worked up.
With a different title, or goal, the article could well have been about how certain women use guilt and paranoia to control the men in their lives. It is only a man in that state, whose emotions have been properly stoked, who can do pathetic things like write threatening emails or trash someone on a comment board with personal information, with that kind of abandon.
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I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that they're probably the ones who've never had an experience like this and think they're too good to ever get involved in one. Ugh. Grow up.
Yeah, it's kind of a trite story... but, you know, if it's so trite, why does it keep happening, all the time, everywhere? There's something valuable here, even if there is pettiness and self-pity.
Anyone who has been in a relationship with a liar can identify with this story.
Anyone who travels a lot for work and is away from their partner a lot can identify with this story.
The comments this girl is sending in and getting her friends to send in show her true colors. She sounds like she's continuing to accuse and she sounds like she needs to get back into therapy. I have a couple guy friends who are with women like this - that punish them by having other guys. The answer is simple, they need to break up with the women. But they don't! What's wrong with you men?
The author was stupid and lame for staying in it, yes. However, he would have been an 'abandoner' if he had cut out.
Mindfuck is a great word for this!
Interesting circumstances because of his behavior? What like not wanting to be stuck in a basement doing bong hits for the rest of his life?
I wish he were my drummer!
http://seattle.craigslist.org/see/zip/13…
What was the content of Trent's piece? He meets a girl, she treats him badly, she leaves him, he contemplates suicide, gets angry letters from the new bf (who is the most interesting character in this article with the funny messenger birds line), and meets a new girlfriend. Excuse me, but big fucking deal. Where was the actual story here?
Trent certainly wasn't a compelling character. His only flaws were being too naive, according to him. He described his ex in such stereotypical terms as "Sex in the City-fed" and the new boyfriend as "LA Model." There was no depth or unique quality to any of these characters, or interesting outcome/ realization of any kind on the part of the author.
Nothing interesting or out of the ordinary happened here. So what was the point? This felt like something I'd read on Live Journal, not in a newspaper.
Also this sounds AWEFULLY one sided... so you were a complete angel, never did anything wrong, it was ALLL her she was pure evil... wonder what her side is... like a VERYwise freind told me once.. there are THREE sides to evry story... his, hersa, and what actually happened.
And you seriously gave the letters to a lawyer?!?!...c'MON man up here. Tell him yer gonna do what ever the f**K ya want and he's gonna like it or lump it.
I guess the REAL patheticness is that I am responding to this.... man am I bored... but dude... stop the whining, grow some and write a good country song about it!!
Don't know how do this non anonimously so I'll sign right here... William Blaak
Tell us your life stories. Or do you have that courage?
I dunno as far as pathetic goes ...
Regarding comment stalking, he laid it all out for himself. Moorman started this article himself, with TheStranger's blessing for publication. If he is allowed to throw his diatribe out here, her friends (like me, and no, I am not the current bf, not even a boy) who know her are certainly going to call him out for what he is.
He started this. 2 years after the breakup. Doesn't the existence of this article show his character by itself? If I were the head person/manager at Head like a kite (and I believe Dave had more than enough managerial experience at MS) to fire this person. This is bad for branding and their reputation. Trent's skill is easily replaceable. It's not like he is the 1st violin at Seattle Symphony.
Real men move on. But some boys never grow up. Good luck to his current girlfriend.
Irony: that the greatest and final testament to how pathologically and embarrassingly fucked-up was this situation/relationship and ALL those involved was the publication of the "article" itself. One could only redeem himself by disavowing any involvement and moving on, but no, we get a feature-length article dripping with tales and signs of rampant personality disorder.
It's hard to wonder if Trent has a secret enemy at The Stranger who gave him the venue as "enough rope."
@29 LOL! the cute lepers... lost a member in the last year..." tee-hee! Get it? How often?
And, YES, I'm busted: I admit I'm pathetic enough to have read the whole article AND all the comments ranging from 1 to 13 on the Lame Scale. You know who you are.
That or you're not in the industry and don't know what the fuck you're talking about.
I don't really believe my last statement just like I don't believe this sorry excuse for a human being Trent. What a SOB. I hope the people you're writing about (including your current girlfriend") have more class than you. I guess you should watch behind your back when you're performing when you pull these kind of putrid stunts. I know he better never have a show in my town.
And that psycho bitch is still stalking him in the comments. Probably has a substance abuse problem.
By the way, Sweetie, if you are reading these comments, no one believes you because you can't fake what Trent wrote. Every word rings true to anyone who has dated someone like you.
93
Personally, I have been on both sides of this situation & really, it sucks. I took it as lessons learned rather than a waste of time.
People like her obviously have issues that need to be talked about in counseling. Something that she needs to take care of before getting into one relationship after another.
As far as Trent goes. Good for you realizing that you deserve different. And good for you for not being the stereotypical touring boyfriend who will cheat on his girlfriend. Better yet, congratulations on what seems like a more healthier relationship.
Reading this, I felt old.
I think people get into these drama laden relationships because it feels exciting. A lot of people are sleepwalking and the emotional intensity of chaotic, unhealthy relationships wakes them up. They feel alive, at least at first. I don't know if you can say that relationships can be addictive the way substances are (although a lot of people do say this), but there are similarities. The addrenaline rushes that come with intense fights or being furious with someone and about to leave, can be drug-like, particularly when they're followed up by the redemption of making up which in turn is also drug-like.
The problem is that this stuff not only becomes a lot less exciting with repetition, but also aggravating and tedious. Still, one or both partners in the relationship might hang in there hoping to recover that original sense of excitement--just like that first high that addicts are always trying to recapture--or that eventual sense of relief when the drama stops. (Think meth or crack versus heroin or benzodiazepines.)
In reality, relationship are not all about excitement and peak experiences. People in long term relationships who say that they still feel that tingly, infatuation adrenaline high, every day when they think about their partners are full of shit. It doesn't work that way. If it did, none of us would accomplish anything else. We'd all be self-obsessed and kind of dumb. Body chemistry even changes at relationships progress. People produce hormones that cause a sense of comfort and well-being instead of excitement.
Add all of the above to a relationship between two people involved in careers that thrive on adulation and breed insecurity--both (careers) depend on other people's praise--and it's just worse (i.e. more intense drama, deeper pain and loss, more risk of rejection: your career could end/never get started if people don't like you).
Seems like a person could lose their sense of direction in life and get caught up in a lot of petty bullshit (e.g. the writer's girlfriend leading a bunch of men around by their dicks just to feel attractive and loved, the writer wasting money on a woman who will never be satisfied with him for reasons that have nothing to do with him).
To the writer: Good luck with all this. I hope you find your balance.
And I'd just love to see the response if a woman had written it about an ex-boyfriend.
trent - read your story, felt good about it, its true, we all make mistakes, and then blame ourselves...its part of the journey...then i made the mistake of reading some of these comments...i cant believe, i dont know, just how MEAN people are...you didnt do anything wrong and i liked hearing about your story...take care
But he's thirty-fucking-eight years old?
There's a subtext in this that reads "I'm a rock star and can attract the status symbol that is the super-hot crazy girlfriend," because guys - admit it - you kind of seek this shit out until you grow up.
I don't buy that Trent was a total victim here. It takes two to create such a fucked up dynamic. Are you planning to give his ex a front page forum to tell her side of the story?
My guess is both people are emotionally immature narcissists who could use a lot of therapy. Why didn't he just write a song about this? Dude, your pain is not that unique and certainly not that interesting.
You sound like her boyfriend.
Nice. We got you noted.
or i could write it for her in just a few words: "what the fuck, man?"
because seriously, what the fuck were you thinking?
This girl doesn't even sound that unusual. When I was in my 20s I met my current boyfriend. Before him, I'd been in love with a guy who cheated on me and dumped me out of the blue. As a result, I had trust issues and accused my current boyfriend of flirting with other people for the first three years of our relationship. I was a terrible girlfriend. I have no idea why he stayed with me but luckily he did, and now I'm not like that at all.
We all have our low moments when it comes to relationships, and for someone to completely flip out like Trent did and try to humiliate & vilify his ex because she was bad at dating is really appalling and shows a complete lack of character on his part. Plus, the writing is absolutely terrible. It's just one long stream-of-consciousness rant.
Hope the new relationship goes well.
Most of all it made me want to die because if this can happen in Seattle, then it can probably happen here, and no one I know deserves to have their dirty laundry aired so publicly.
Anyone who spends a lot of time away from their girl gets some shit. This is just life.
This girl sounds like a serious bitch, so I guess you got your revenge by savaging her on the front page of The Stranger.
I would personally encourage you to get as much pussy as you can when your on the road. Surely it would make up for the shitty pay.
It's hard to make a living through rock and roll, theater, photography, film making, etc. Thank God for that, actually. I used to bitch about it when I was a starving artist but in the end I think it just toughens folks up and makes the best work rise to the top.
That said, I enjoyed the honesty of the piece and wish the author luck.
120
I'm sure everyone likes to think they're smart and would notice the warning signs and never fall victim to a relationship like this, but sadly the crazy usually comes to the surface only after you've made the mistake of falling in love with them.
I hope that your writing this piece was cathartic and helps you move on with your life to better things, and I certainly enjoyed reading it.
123
You have nothing to fear ever ;)
Pat Boone doesn't fuck around.
124
It's also too bad that men don't get the same lessons women do on how to avoid/identify abusive control freaks. Isolating someone from his/her friends is a major red flag.
129
The writer portrays himself as someone who made many noble sacrifices for love, and cruely had them thrown back in his face. "Oh, she thought I was a scumbag, but I wasn't, I swear...."
Boo hoo. He wasn't so noble. He knew she was insane. He just wanted to fuck someone hot, and was apparently willing to put up with any amount of drama for achieve this goal.
133
Great piece, Trent. Madness. Well put.
Maybe next time her boyfriend will think twice before he writes threatening letters to people that write for publications.
We are all born parasites. As fetuses we suck life from the womb, and as infants, we manipulate by using our charisma to charm our parents into taking care of us. When that doesn't work, we rage by crying. In response we get to lay back, get fed, diaper changed and lots of attention. This is a hardwired survival mechanism, without which we would die as helpless infants. The human mind is also wired to learn language and to bond emotionally at 1 to 4 years old. If it doesn't happen during these years, it never will. The sociopath never learns to bond and consequently behaves just like Trents girlfriend.
The roots of this personality disorder are SHAME AND ENVY. The inability to bond with the parents or to have love from them, creates an unbearable shame in the infant, which is repressed and the child learns to act SHAMELESSLY. Trents story is valuable because it illustrates SOME of the red flags. The lies are symptoms of illusions of grandeur. They envy everyone for even the smallest things.
Trents girlfriend is a novice. I have experienced and know others who have experienced much more sophisticated sociopaths with the same textbook behavior. They are like vampires, they hypnotize you with charm, baffle you with the pity ploy, then despise you for pitying them because you can't see how superior they are to you. They confuse you and control you with rages, then they say they are sorry and tell you they love you. Trent was lucky he had no money because she would have ruined him finanacially. Slander, sabotage, poison are all part of their repertoire. They have driven many to suicide or an early death from the stress. Others like scott peterson or drew peterson, simply kill their partner, take the life insurance and move on to the next victim. Here's the weird part: while you are in the relationship, YOU CAN'T SEE IT. To you, this is different, unique, you are soul mates, destined. What do they want? Money, yes, but mostly, they can only feel alive and validated by controlling you: Your money, your attention, your emotions, your will to live. They know they don't have emotions and that you do, so they entertain themselves by pulling on the marrionette strings and watching you dance.
Ever see a cat playing with a mouse but not killing it? They have no empathy for the sheer terror in the mouse which finally dies of fright.
There are so many of these vampires disguised as humans out there and they are hard to see. They take a huge toll on our society as they extract the life blood out of individuals. They need to be exposed and we need to stop tolerating them.
Thanks Trent for doing your part. PLEASE READ THE BOOKS. Once you have been a victim, you are actually more likely to be again, because it seems "normal" to you.
The new girlfriend must be so flattered that you're this hung up on the ex still.
That being said, I can totally relate to many parts of this story, and I am so glad my rants on past (fucked up) loves were never published.
-I am twice as glad I loved all of the crazy ones, got hurt, and MOVED ON! (no, REALLY)
141
I agree with commenter #38: You and your pathetic diatribe have definitely come out the other end.
This article was not whiny. It was insightful, controversial, and honest. It's refreshing that writer's still take personal risks to reach readers. This was an effective, creative, and entertaining piece.
Also, I'm curious to know how old this ex is. You sound like one of those guys who dates women in their 20s because they're hot and then complains about how immature they are. I know plenty of people in their 20s who suck at relationships because they haven't figured out what they want, to settle down or to date around and have that exciting attention. It's hard when you're that young.
I think the overall lesson learned here is, ladies, don't date anyone who writes for the Stranger, because they aren't above publishing their pointless diary entries about what they thought of your relationship. Good to know.
If you were actually honest and told the "really story about how you are a "Scumbag" that might be worth reading. Maybe.
I'm surprised she doesn't have a restraining order on you... or does she?! Is this the only way you can get her attention. Or maybe you're just too much of a pussy to send her an email. That big bad boyfriend my messy your average looking face. Come on dude! Seriously! If I was her, I would be laughing. Ladies... I would stay way from this guy with a ten foot pole or you might end up on the cover of a irresponsible (so called) paper and with his side of your dirty laundry hanging out to dry. Not to mention it's poorly written.
Wow! The only thing I would love to see is her side of the story. Bet she'd have some good stories... What do you think Trent?... Would that be some good writing? Something tells me you wouldn't be the victim.
Grow some balls man and get a life, if that is even possible.
PS. You run like a girl.
And the classic, you can't handle the truth! I had to lie!
Remind me never to date anyone in a band.
We think the only reason so many commenters on here wrote supporting this stupid article is that a man wrote it, and therefore he gets points for being vulnerable, although there is no vulnerability actually being shown here, just some guy trashing his ex.
After choking down that simulated angst, we turn to the theater section, where overblown crybabies are supposed to get their due.
Girlfriend and Girlfriend's Friends- represent for the all the hot Seattle WOMEN and shake that shit off. Otherwise, nothing's changed. He's still pushing your buttons... which you realize that this is the reason that this article resonates with so many people, right? Because instead of leaving bad relationships, people (especially women) miserably drag on dysfunctional shit to their own demise. His publication is a sign that he's onto the next thing. The negative comments are funny, ladies, but sort of affirm the stereotype that he was trying to portray. Come on Girls! Keep it real and admit that we've all done our parts in bad relationships before.
Although one-sided, the editorial was good. We've all been there. From an outsider's perspective, who cares if it's true or not? When you're in a fucked up relationship like that nobody's really being honest with themselves or each other about who they are or what they want anyway. Um- isn't that the point?
152- This article has EVERYTHING to do with being a musician on tour. Have you ever dated one? The girlfriend isn't psycho, she's human. This is a likely story, and if like me, musicians do it for you, it's hard not to date them when you're too young and inexperienced to know any better. Trent did a good job of illustrating his point when he wrote that most musicians are impossible to date. And to all the ladies writing in about how he's such a sleaze for the single mom text- maybe it was just me, but I thought that was his attempt to equalize the situation and illustrate that it was a two-way crazy reltionship???
It was a story from his perspective for God's ball's sake. Jesus Christ- of course it wasn't completely true. There are two sides to EVERY story. I think most readers who are not friends with either of these two got that.
May I ask why everybody so goddamn serious about this article? Everybody in this story sounds REALLY HOT and talented. I don't know either one of them, but I want to see his show and buy her clothes. Sounds like they're more productive without each other and will produce better shit for Seattle.
23- You're a HATER and don't sound hot. Seattle is full of plenty of hot men, but with your whiny attidude, you probably will never find one.
I'm glad he's in a healthier relationship, because this girl obviously used her beauty to her advantage--I didn't know women were like this, honestly. I mean I know women (including me) can be very jealous and insecure, but seriously, dating other people on the internet and calling ex's? That's just mean and untrustworthy--I thought it was GUYS who are untrustworthy.
A few things, though... I can understand wanting to be with someone who's more financially stable, and I can understand why she broke your phone after reading "Mich"'s text message. That was pretty much the worst text you can read. And "everybody was exchanging phone numbers after the show in Vegas"?? Come on, get over yourself.
Head Like a Kite was my favorite band at Bumbershoot this year. I see them every time they play and enjoy myself every time. 168, sorry you didn't like it. You should have gone to Modest Mouse.
Trent! I'm a huge Fresh Espresso fan because of you! Another show I will always see. That's a good look for you. Keep on with all that.
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