Chapter 14 I’m the Bad Guy—Duh
I’m the Bad Guy—Duh
RIFF
I put in my AirPods and open Spotify on my phone, scrolling down the main screen. The sky is threatening to rain, but it hasn’t yet, so I’m out on one of the trails near my house hoping to clear my head with a run.
It’s been a while, so I’m fully expecting to be sore after this.
Because I follow the Play By Hear podcast, the latest episode surfaces in my Spotify recommendations—the episode in which I am featured.
Remembering the content of that interview, I clench my jaw.
I’m not sure what came over me that day, but I really didn’t like the host talking about Harmony like that.
I’ve seen similar commentary both online and in print, and it pisses me off.
Even when people try to make it like it’s “just an observation” or say that they “don’t personally find anything wrong with it, but …
” I feel like I’m living in some alternate universe where nothing makes sense.
Harmony looks incredible, partly because she is in fine physical shape (anyone who says otherwise has their head up their ass) and partly because she is incredible, which she would be at any size.
Love or hate her, no one can deny Harmony is a go-getter who is always honing her skills and taking creative risks, she says what she thinks, and she doesn’t give up.
That’s been evident since the first time I saw her on Lucky Stars when right off the bat she put herself out there with an original song, and then when she got eliminated but didn’t let that stop her from making music that everyone would eventually hear.
Even if she gets under my skin sometimes, I don’t want anyone talking shit about her.
On that track, I put on Harmony’s “Friction” to see if its energy will kick off my run at a good pace. In school I used to run cross country because it was a way to release pent-up frustration—and between the podcast and this whole thing with Harmony, I’ve got my fair share right now.
I stretch my quads during the intro, then take off down the trail.
“What do you get when you put one and one together and the feeling between us is like denim on leather? It’s a force to be reckoned, I couldn’t resist …”
The trail is brown and dusty and uphill, cutting through the sprawl of scrub trees. In seconds, I’m panting, but the burn is cathartic.
Harmony’s voice singing that I’m “nothing but fiction” makes me push myself harder against the incline. It hurts because it’s true, and even more so because she’s one of the last people I wanted to be fictitious to.
“Rub me that way and you’ll only get friction, and at first it feels good … then it sets fire to the wood.”
Leave it to Harmony Sonora to make a song both sexy and vicious. And somehow she’s also done wordplay around physics (because friction), along with yet another nod to me (or my music, at least) using “grind” and “geared.”
What do you get when you cross fiction and fact
And all I can do is equal-opposite react?
Got geared up and ready just to grind to a halt,
Push and pull, beautiful, till we scrape the asphalt
No wonder our writing sessions have gone so well. As a man whose first career was word based, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to separate Harmony’s poetic genius from her spite.
And, am I crazy, or did she start to mellow out? Maybe even open up? One thousand percent, I did not think she would ever text me, and then we wrote a whole chorus together with no spite whatsoever. In fact, I think she secretly appreciated my “live, lime, love” joke.
Might just be my imagination, but whatever it is, I’m in my head about it.
Which is probably why I couldn’t keep my cool on Play By Hear.
A lot of guys say women exaggerate about the scrutiny they face, but from what I can see—especially since I was questioned about Harmony’s appearance like it has anything to do with me—where’s the lie?
When Spotify autoplays some of Harmony’s other songs, I let it. For now, I just want to live inside her brain for a minute, to figure out how it works.
“You’re different between us and them, it’s waking me at 3 a.m.,” she sings, and I wonder which man warrants this line.
Someone who changes behavior based on his audience, I’d imagine.
Luke Onstenk? Kelton Roth? Suddenly I’m reminded of what Harmony said to me at the Glo Radio event: “You’re going to be different depending on where you are and who you’re with.
That’s not something I’m interested in.”
Her next few songs are slower, more pensive, but I listen to them anyway, slowing to a jog.
“You wished I would tell you, ’Love me when you can,’ but I don’t want a fairytale with castles made of sand,” she says in one of them.
“There’s holes in the soles of my shoes, from running in circles,” she says in another.
“I’m callused, I’m bruised, and I am scarred, stretched like the strings of your guitar.
" And, “Let me, let me, get a little overcast. You don’t get me, get me, if you’re getting over me that fast.” Or, “I am incapable, and you, you're inescapable.”
The one after that is particularly haunting.
The lamps on the sidewalk are all dim,
The cold air just makes me think of him,
My breath is like a ghost in the wind,
I’d start if I knew where to begin
When I pay attention to what she’s saying—when I really listen—so much of her work is wrought with pain.
It’s not a gimmicky track list that shames men for existing; it’s a diary of her life (yes, often her love life) and what she’s left with in the aftermath of each encounter.
Some are angrier, like “If Your Car Could Talk” or “Nice Try,” but many have a melancholy tone.
Meanwhile, her upbeat pop songs tend to have nothing to do with her dating life at all, despite her reputation.
Next thing I know, I’m sitting on a big rock, trying to catch my breath, and typing Harmony’s name into Google on my phone.
My data signal is weak and I’ve got sweat dripping down my temples, but I scan fan forums and all the speculations as to which of her songs are about which of her exes, and I find out through a few super fans that Andy Gaccione has a history of cheating (links supplied to several articles that discuss allegations from multiple partners of his) and that Luke Onstenk is known in Hollywood for continuing to date women in the early twenties range, despite being thirty-eight himself now, and most of his relationships don’t last more than a month or two (while anecdotes say he “likes to string girls along until he’s bored of them” and “uses his acting skills to get what he wants from women offscreen”).
Other things Harmony has said to me stand out: “You seem to be pretty familiar with playing a part,” and “We’ll just pretend. I know that’s your favorite.”
I hadn’t really thought about what she might have been going through when she wrote all her “man-hater” songs.
I’d convinced myself it was just kind of her schtick, a gimmick she used to rally her troops.
And I didn’t mind it before because I had no idea what it was like to be the “subject of the sentence.” Once I felt it, I have to admit, it didn’t feel good.
But so much of her reaction makes sense now.
Putting myself in her position the night we met, a new picture starts to form in my mind—one in which I am kind of the bad guy.