Two Dreams And My Top 10 Break-Up Songs
In my 32 years of television and movie viewing/life, I have come to want two things:
- A montage set to music: Me falling in love, me moving up the career ladder, me getting a makeover. Any scenario would work really so long as my montage included me throwing papers into the air, twirling in an evening gown and smiling meaningfully at a member of the opposite sex.
- A soundtrack.
Neither of these wishes are real possibilities, what with me being a person leading a life and not the star of a movie, but it does seem that I have unwittingly given all of my break-ups soundtracks.
Each time I have felt rejected or suffered a broken heart, I tended to become obsessed with one song or album. (You don’t want to know how many times I can listen to the same song on repeat.)
My poor, poor best friend from college not only suffered through many of my break-up soundtracks, she also had to listen to my pontifications on what the song meant and how it related to my life.
“Don’t you see? I’m in love with his ghost.” (“Ghost,” Indigo Girls)
“I’m such a good girl. Where’s my reward?” (“Underneath Your Clothes,” Shakira)
“That’s all it was – it was all just a bed of lies.” (“Bed of Lies,” Matchbox 20)
When I’m down, I tend to gravitate towards country, songs you’d find at Lilith Fair and pop no one can admit to liking and still be considered cool.
As I watched the Adele/good cry skit on this past weekend’s Saturday Night Live, I was actually torn between laughing and crying. For God’s sake, “Someone Like You” is a killer. Basically, the SO can never leave me because now that that song is out, I don’t think any one person has the stamina for both the fetal position and my tone deaf ramblings about “that you’d be reminded that for me, it wasn’t over.”
I’m not one to recommend this particular form of grieving, but when it comes to break-ups, I’m a wallower. I sing along to depressing songs on, cry, throw mini-tantrums, knit and watch Steel Magnolias for extended periods of time. Then, one day I wake up, and I’m fine. It’s like I have an internal switch. After the wallowing, I shower, put my party shoes on, bring the cleavage out and hit the town. Healthy or not, it’s my M.O.
So, for no particular reason, I now give you my top 10 list of break-ups songs along with the lines you would have to “see the meaning of” or agree “were just like me and X” were we friends. (I think many of you will both feel for my friends and decide we might not need to meet in real life after reading this.) For the full effect, I recommend hearing a torn, near-teary voice quoting the lyrics with way too much weight/melodrama and more pauses than the songwriter would be happy with.
1. “Landslide,” Stevie Nicks or The Dixie Chicks. I’m cool with either.
“I built my life around you.”
2. “I Can’t Make You Love Me,” Bonnie Raitt.
‘Nuf said.
3. “You Were Mine,” The Dixie Chicks.
“Sometimes I wake up crying at night.”
4. “Almost Lover,” A Fine Frenzy.
“Goodbye my almost lover, goodbye my hopeless dream.”
5, “Be Be You Love,” Rachael Yamagata
“Everybody’s got the way I should feel. Everybody’s talking how I can’t can’t be in love, but I want want to be in love for real.”
6. “La Cienega Just Smiled,” Ryan Adams. (It does not help that a lot of Ryan Adams songs played during the last season of Felicity.)
“I’m too scared to know how I feel about you now.”
(These last few usually signaled that I was on more of an upswing, or at least seeing another side to the situation.)
7. “I’m Moving On,” Rascal Flatts. (“God Bless the Broken Road” is also a good one if you’re more of an optimist.)
“I’ve loved like I should, but lived like I shouldn’t.”
8. “Say Hello, Wave Goodbye,” David Gray.
“It was a kind of so, so love, and I’m going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
9. “Please Remember Me,” Tim McGraw.
“Part of you will live in me – way down deep inside my heart.”
10. “Outbound Plane,” Nanci Griffith.
“I don’t want to be standing her, I don’t want to be talking here and I don’t really care who’s to blame. ‘Cause if love won’t’ fly of its own free will, I’m going to catch that outbound plane.”
Nancy Griffith is usually the sign that I’m ready to move on, but if it’s followed by Aerosmith’s “Jaded,” it just means I’m in the anger stage rather than depression.
I can be a downer.
In short, my iTunes collection is scary, I have some really understanding friends and if anyone knows anyone who loves to edit video, I’ve still got my fingers crossed on that video montage – and we’ll use much peppier songs there. KT Tunstall anyone?
If I’m singing along to show tunes (Les Mis or Wicked in particular), we’re all good. I’d like to thank the SO for my years of musicals. We might argue more about what to play when we’re traveling, but I promise it’s a good thing.