This is the first in an ongoing series about the ridiculously large amount of possessions I’ve lost in the mire of bad break ups. I’m sure dignity and pride are on the list somewhere…
But let’s start the fun and games with this.
The loss of this album, Australian musician Lisa Mitchell’s debut, was/is quite a baffling case.
Musically, its earnest innocence mixed with a slightly haunting overtone is a winning combination. So, after the purchase and initial listen, I began playing the album repeatedly in my car. REPEATEDLY. Every. Single. Time. We. Went. Anywhere.
I’m sure that’s the kind of thing that never gets annoying and/or frustrating…
The ex in question followed every step in the “Partner Introducing New Music To My Ears” textbook.
- I don’t know it, so I assume I don’t like it.
- Ok, now I’ve heard it I know I don’t like it.
- You know, it’s actually not so bad.
- Turn it up, this is my favourite song on the album.
Then, inevitably, back to…
- Ugh. Can you stop playing this all the goddamn time?!
Ultimately she was not shy about telling me how much she loathed both the aforementioned album and, subsequently, the singer of said album.
I always suspected a dark hidden jealousy.
Or, alternatively, the human brain can only hear the refrain “Do you have a dollar, do you have a dollar for me?” so many times before rejecting the orator outright.
Whether it’s sung by the original artist or by a boyfriend with a limited vocal range.
After the relationship concluded I was presented with the ceremonial box of “Things That Are Yours.” Following a quick peruse of its contents I instantly noticed the item in question was conspicuously absent.
When I innocently inquired about the absence I was met with derision and scorn for even caring about a CD in this most tumultuous of times. All further questioning was met with an ocular version of the dismissive wanking motion and as a result I can no longer say that I own the album.
Oh Rebecca, I never knew you at all.
“I miss this” rating: 5/10
I could simply re-purchase it, but I’d rather remain justifiably indignant about the loss and the deception that came with it. Thumbs up for maturity!