Sorry scene of the 80’s: hanging around in a living room, studying the back cover of ‘All over the place’, the debut album of the Bangles, trying to figure which Bangle we like best. Just a random group of teenage boys. It’s only 4 pm. One of my best friends is throwing a party, all preparations have been done, and now we are just killing time. We are listening to this album, mainly because we like ‘Going down to Liverpool’, and because of these…mmm…girls of course. Too inexperienced, musically, to listen to The Runaways or The Slits. The Bangles are a good, teenage friendly, alternative. The room is packed with testosterone. You can smell it, feel it, almost touch it. Being the singer, and therefore effectively the leader of the band, Susanne Hoffs is our group’s clear favourite. No surprise that the leader of our pack, the organiser of the party, fancies her most. He prefers brunettes. His current girlfriend, a girl I definitely like more than he does, is also a brunette. I know he doesn’t really love her. It’s just play for him, a nice waste of time, and knowing that hurts me more than I dare to admit.
I choose the blond Bangle. She has something; an arrogant form of toughness, eyes that signal independence. It’s all masquerade, an attempt to hide my true feelings and intentions. I pick her because she looks totally different from the girl I’m in love with; my friend’s girlfriend. I’m covering up the evidence to keep everybody happy..
Hours later. A small disaster has taken place. My friend just kissed some random blonde girl. His girlfriend was practically standing next to him when it happened. She is not angry, doesn’t break up with him on the spot, but instead takes it as a token of her own inadequacy. I suffer in silence; intoxicated and paralysed. I wish she was as tough and independent as that blonde Bangle. I wish I was too. I look at the clock. Only 3 am. I have to wait at least another before I can go without destroying my imaginary reputation.