How U2 Came into My Life...

- by Dat | OneBadMofo007@aol.com

I guess almost all of you who are your mid-20's remember one of the Joshua Tree songs as the first U2 song you've ever heard and liked.  I got hooked by, what else, With or Without You.  But being the age I was, I didn't dedicate myself to being a fan, just a casual listener who enjoyed U2's hits during the 80's.  I still remember watching the Mysterious Ways video a few years later and exclaiming, "That's U2?"  Then came Numb, and I asked the same question.  And that was the last time I thought about U2.

Until 2 years ago....

I must've just missed POPMart.  I never knew what a grand experiment Zooropa was, and the only song from Achtung Baby I ever heard was Mysterious Ways.  Then I was hired to work in a hospital pharmacy, and I met this pretty blond girl who happened to be a big U2 fan.  One day, she put in this disc whose face looked like it had a bunch of graffitti on it, and after a couple of familiar songs had played, Mysterious Ways came on, and I said, "Hey, it's U2!"  She said, "Sure is", and then started talking about how much she loved them and blah blah blah...all the while I was trying to enjoy the song I claimed as my favorite all those years ago.  Then she says, "Here's my favorite", and a organ synth and heavy bass intro plays into a song that starts off, "Six o'clock in the morning, You're the last to the warning". After the song was over, I said, "Wow, I love U2." She replied, "I love U2."  And we looked at each other for a moment and then had a good laugh. She was American, and I was Vietnamese, and we became best of friends.

For months, I was content on listening to her small U2 collection at work. Joshua Tree, Rattle and Hum, AB, of course.  Our musical interests expanded to such artists as Cranberries, Jewel, and Dave Matthews.  In the meantime, my girlfriend, who also worked with me (she was an actual pharmacist, i was merely a technician, as was my friend), noticed that my friend held a lot of interest for me.  My U2 friend and I did a lot of things together, along with my girlfriend of course.

But soon, our plutonic friendship was made out to something more.  My girlfriend started being jealous that I was spending so much time with my friend.  I tried to explain that we work closely together because we're both technicians.  Then, rumors started that I was having an affair.  After weeks of being the public eye (it seems like all the hospital personnel were in my business), we started to sneak about just to see and talk to each other, just like we were having an affair. But all we simply wanted to do was be friends.  After all, she also had a boyfriend, who I hung out with a couple of times.

Then things got worse.  The boyfriend began getting jealous, making my friend's life hell.  And you probably can guess what the rest of story is like.  My friend and I, of course, got pulled deeper and deeper.  With both our relationships falling apart, we got closer than ever.  Then one day I cracked..I told her I was in love with her.

She got angry, confused.  It was unfair, she said.  You gotta cry without weeping, talk without speaking, scream without raising your voice.  With those 3 words, my friend and I broke apart.

A month passed, we worked with each other but did not speak.  In the midst of it all, I bought my first U2 CD, The Best of, and discovered a whole world of songs that she and I never had the chance to enjoy.  I played it everyday at work and sang along...sometimes my friend joined in accidentally, only to stop when she realized we were singing together.

Then I received a note on a piece of paper.  It read: "You stole it 'cause I needed the cash You killed it 'cause I wanted revenge You lied to me, 'cause I asked you to Baby, can we still be friends?"

At the bottom of the note: "I love U2" As ambiguous as they can get.

The next few months, the arrangement was quite the same.  We didn't talk to each other at work.  But my pager always received a special text message every day. And sometimes we would visit a patient together.  Sometimes she would look at me from afar while I worked, when I was really looking at her.

One day, I asked her, "If you ever break up with your boyfriend, would you think of me?"--a la My Girl. She replied, "You are the sweetest thing."  Hmph.  Yet another ambiguous answer. She eventually broke with her boyfriend.  I was still with my girlfriend, though.  One night, we had a terrible fight, and I left.  I walked the city at night, and came to my friend's house.  Her boyfriend was at the front porch, trying to get in.  I approached him, and of course, he got angry.  He started ranting about my friend having an affair all this time.  Then he broke a window. My friend opened the door, very scared.  So I forced the ex to back away.  He left without hitting me, even though he could have handled me like a rag doll.

My friend was scared, but she took me in.  We didn't have sex or even slept in the same room.  We talked for a time, and she told me she was leaving town for good. She was going back to her parents.  I was devastated.

She left that very next morning.  We held each other for a very long time while her car waited for her.  I told her I love her once more and I asked if she ever felt the same way.  She said yes.  It was like the last night on earth.

The holidays came and went and Easter was around the corner.  She didn't return any of my calls.  It was expected.  Then one day, I heard from her relative that she was getting married to an old high school friend. Achtung Baby became the one album I listened to.  For many months, I was a social wreck.  I shunned society, and even broke up with my girlfriend.  Since then, I've collected U2 and been living in the past.  I've longed for the day I could hear my friend's voice, touch her soft skin, smell your golden hair.  I just hope that she won't let that bastard grind her down like the last one.

We were one, but we're not the same. One Bad Mofo?  It's just a front, my friends.

u

The essay was first posted on Wire, August 29, 2000, and reprint for the page purpose by kind permission of the writer.