By Jarrod Thalheimer

Famous writer/philosopher Leo Tolstoy once opined, “Music is the shorthand of emotion.” Not bad for a guy clearly unfamiliar with brevity (see “War & Peace…”), but really, it’s not much of a stretch to see that the songs we sing offer clues to our deeper selves. Music matters.

But what happens when your man takes his love of music a little too far? Has your guy somehow started identifying with the ways and whims of his favorite rock-god instead? If so, you’re probably the only one who can help because the rest of us are too busy laughing at him. Still, in the interests of humanity (and because BELLA cares…), please consider the following cheat-sheet a (somewhat) sincere offer of assistance.

YOUR FELLA WORSHIPS: Steven Tyler (Aerosmith, “Sweet Emotion”)

Symptoms: He constantly stuffs himself into pants resembling tights, has begun accessorizing with more flowing scarves and fabric drapes than an entire East Indian wedding party, and he insists on dropping inappropriate comments, creepy winks or strange smiles at girls less than half his age.

Action: Remind him that as famous as Steven Tyler may be, looking like someone’s cat food-noshing granny is nothing to which any adult man should ever aspire. The poor guy needs real help vs. the sort of depressing self-delusion those “American Idol” love-fests provided. Paging Ryan Seacrest: Stevie T. has fallen and totally can’t get up!


Symptoms: Sporting a newly glazed look on his face (and dancing everywhere he goes), your sweetie’s singing voice has jumped at least three octaves. As a bonus he’s also got a newfound predilection for the wearing of ginormous hats – in public!

Action: Applaud his desire to be so deliriously happy, but suggest his singing voice was fine the way it used to be. Also, remind him that the likelihood of giant, poufy hats staying in style for more than five minutes is about the same as Robin Williams ever getting asked to remake “Popeye” (which is exactly where hats that stupid belong).


Symptoms: He’s developed a penchant for suits at least two sizes too small, has an annoying habit of hash-tagging every single thing he says, and blogs endlessly about wanting to see the cast of “Growing Pains” reunite for a live TV special.

Action: Inform your guy that topless dancers and junior-size referee suits have a very limited shelf life in the real world, and that if he even thinks about waving a foam finger anywhere in your general direction it’s going to be deposited very deep (where the sun don’t usually shine).


Symptoms: He has a growing interest in dangerously high, fetish platform shoes, endlessly searches the internet for better ways to affix raw meat to fabric, and wonders why no one else can see that Lady Gaga is simply the pre-reincarnation of a not-quite-dead-yet Madonna

Action: Considering this one really ought to be self-explanatory, I will add only this: RUN!


Symptoms: Your guy is continually comparing himself to folks like Howard Hughes, Steve Jobs and Walt Disney even though he only works weekends for UPS. He is displaying more and more paranoia about non-existent paparazzi and has developed a nasty habit of either referring to himself in the third person or as a deity of some kind.

Action: Remind him that emulating someone narcissistically loony enough to demand that the carpet in his dressing room be hand-ironed actually puts him on the fast-track to a future that looks a lot less “Magic Kingdom” and way more “nightshift at 7-Eleven.”


Symptoms: He refuses to remove his sunglasses (even for bathing!), has developed an Irish accent even though he was born in the Bronx, and has come to believe he alone has the power to make the world a better place through good intentions alone.

Action: Encourage his burgeoning social conscience by suggesting he spend less time assembling black-on-black outfits and instead get his butt to work harassing retailers to help homeless shelters by donating whatever unsold (Product)RED items they continue to get stuck with.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.