You’d think that maybe if I had known he had no job, no car, and was sleeping on his buddy’s couch when I met him- at least one item in that overly unimpressive line up would have produced a red flag. But you’d be wrong. Because, I knew. 

By the time I figured out he had no intention of ever getting a job, that he was perfectly content drinking beer, doing drugs and hanging out with his buddies, I was so hopelessly in love, or ate up or whipped or whatever you wanna call it-

There was no wrong he could not right with a properly placed wave of his magic wand. No indiscretion for which the warmth of his tongue could not insure he would be forgiven.

********

To this day I do not know if what we shared was love, or obsession or something far too dangerous for either of us to ever comprehend, I only know- that the years we spent together changed the course of my life forever.

Sometimes he still comes to me in my dreams. I’ll find him sleeping on my couch. Shirtless. Hands folded prayer style tucked between his knees. The angelic face of the eternal boy I now know he was destined to remain all the days of his life-

And all I wanna do is tell him, “I’m sorry. For trying to force you to grow up. For trying to make something out of you, you were never destined to be. For all the time I wasted harping on you to ‘get a fuckin’ job’.”

I know now, none of that would have made any difference. I could not have loved you any more.

In loving memory of

David A. Gardon

February 10, 1966 – January 17, 2004

 

Why don’t you get a job was written by Bryan (Dexter) Holland and performed by the band, The Offspring, which he co-founded with a buddy of his, Gregory Kreisel in 1984. The band started off as four guys, none of whom even played the guitar at the time, just hanging out, drinking beer in Greg’s mother’s garage. 

Why don’t you get a job

My friend’s got a girlfriend
Man he hates that bitch
He tells me every day
He says “man I really gotta lose my chick
In the worst kind of way”

She sits on her ass
He works his hands to the bone
To give her money every payday
But she wants more dinero just to stay at home
Well my friend
You gotta say

I won’t pay, I won’t pay ya, no way
Why don’t you get a job
Say no way, say no way, no way
Why don’t you get a job

I guess all his money, well it isn’t enough
To keep her bill collectors at bay
I guess all his money, well it isn’t enough
‘Cause that girl’s got expensive taste

I won’t pay, I won’t pay ya, no way
Why don’t you get a job
Say no way, say no way, no way
Why don’t you get a job

Well I guess it ain’t easy doing nothing at all
But hey man free rides just don’t come along
Every day

Let me tell you about my other friend now
My friend’s got a boyfriend, man she hates that dick
She tells me every day
He wants more dinero just to stay at home
Well my friend
You gotta say

I won’t pay, I won’t pay ya, no way
Why don’t you get a job
Say no way, say no way, no way

This is my response to Jim’s Song Lyric Sunday call for songs by or containing the names, (or word in the case of my choice), Tom, Dick, or Harry.