Okay, I get that the era of the heavy metal guitar god is long gone. That’s why it’s up to dedicated old school metalheads such as myself to keep the flame alive, even if that means interjecting that flame into every single aspect of life. And if people don’t like it, well, they should stop teeing me up so much!
I’ll give you a for-instance. I met this girl on Tinder and we went to a nice Indian restaurant. We got to talking about spicy Indian dishes and she claimed that “Really spicy foods cause some crazy stuff to go on “In My Dreams.” How the hell am I supposed to not respond to that via the majesty of air-shredding?! I Just kept saying in my head, “GOD DAMN that fuckin’ solo on In My Dreams shreds beyond comprehension!” while “dweedly dweedling” with my fingers.
She just looked at me like I was crazy, as if she didn’t force me to do this by saying the words “In My Dreams.” Mixed signals much?
Despite the total mislead on her part, the date went well and after the restaurant we decided to go for a walk along the beach. I got talking about previous relationships I had been in and mentioned how I never really hit it off seriously with other partners, mainly because I believe I’m misunderstood. She made a comment to me along the lines of, “well if It’s Not Love, It’s not love.” Do you, the reader of this article, understand the heaviness of that verse riff?!
I busted out the tweedydys right then and there, the moonlight adding majesty to my already magnificent pretend-shred. I even called her “M’lady” when I was done, and did she swoon? Absolutely not. All of a sudden she “ had a headache” and wanted to go home.
I offered to pay for her Uber ride home. After several attempts to not let me pay, she finally told me her street address: 222 G.Lynch drive. It was basically like a sign from the 80s gods of thunderous riffage telling me that she is the one. I mean, what are the odds of that? Me having Dokken on the brain the entire night, then this girl lives on Lynch Ave?? She even has a fantastic sense of humor telling me, “I have no idea who that is,” and “I think my dad’s said something about that band.” I busted out my imaginary axe and solo’d the whole wait, even after the driver showed up and asked me to stop for some reason.
All in all I had a good feeling that after that night. I think this definitely went more smoothly than the date that I had Scorpions rattling in my brain the entire night.