dear lady gaga,

let me be perfectly and utterly clear. i despise pop music. no really. if it made the top 40, i probably can’t stand it. i have spent years cultivating my distaste. and you have been no expection. when paparazzi came out, i described it to others like a plague i could not escape. every time i got in my car, you were there. every store i went in, you were there. even when i took a plane, you were there. taunting me with your adorable papa-paparazzi chorus. and i’ll admit, hearing you sing papa made me a little warm inside but truly. i thought the song was by paris hilton. poker face was no different. every encounter was met with a decisive “change the channel” maneuver. i wouldn’t be caught dead listening to it.

and then. the draq queen rumors started. and i what an amazing coincidence that would be. how extraordinary would it be if you came out one day as your boy self and shocked the world. but instead, you came out on q magazine with an enormous black dildo. and my heart warmed just a little more.

so i opened my ears just slightly when bad romance came out. the sheer insanity of it drove me to listen. that you were making top hits with “rah rah oh la la” and a smattering of french had to mean something. and suddenly i started hearing about your national equality speech and all the gay boys around me were signing your praises. even the cute boy in frightened rabbit was wearing your shirt.

so when i went saw you were playing across from the strokes at lollapolloza. i agonized. on one hand, my roots are absolutely in stripped down, nyc black on black rock. on the other, i felt myself slowly but surely falling in love with you. i asked everyone who they would choose and the results were inconclusive. so i took the pansy way out. i decided to do half and half, first you then end with the storkes. it made sense, i could see the opening crazyness then get back to solid ground before ending the night. my mind was made up.

and then you jumped in the crowd at the semi precious weapons show just as i walked up. and that kid was such a queen. and i thought. god. half these kids are just here to see if you’ll show. and not only did you not let them down, but you brought more awareness for an otherwise unknown band.

but still. when you started on friday night, i had every intention of leaving halfway through. me and my best buddy from high school stood there and watched as your image, in full madonna style regale, flashed on and off the screen. as you begin your trek to the monster ball. as you rambled about being on the big stage now, how you made it, how anyone could do anything and how jesus was a bisexual. and my mouth stayed at half cocked the entire time. finally, at the 3/4’s mark we made a trek back to the strokes stage, stark raving about your show but dead set on watching the rest of the strokes.

but honey, it was boring in comparison to you. a let down, a fall out, a complete utter waste of time. my feet may have been on solid ground but my heart was heavy with regret. you threw up that flare of a firework and i was headed home. i could barely keep myself from breaking out in a run, i was so excited to come back. and i stood, as close as i could get, and let my mouth hang open and my feet shuffle back and forth. i should have never doubted you. i should have known, this was my true home. in a crowd of misfits who could have fallen out of a techno fueled space age rocky horror picture show. the off center, the slightly off key, the slightly plastic but gritty enough to be real. and by the time you ended with paparazzi and bad romance i was singing along.

i even called my wife before even making it out of grant park. just to say how utterly amazing it was. though i could barely speak much less describe the show or how .inspired. you left me.

and now. any time you come up. i gush. like a school girl. its almost repulsive. i feel myself regressing to a time when i would tape every instance of tori amos so i could rewind and watch over and over again. i’m utterly starstruck.

what in the world did you to me