Nikipedia: I Do It All For Dave

My sophomore year of high school, I became obsessed with the Dave Matthews.

I remember the exact moment it happened. I was lying on my bedroom floor after just having cleaned my room. I had lit a candle and was reading Cosmopolitan Magazine. It was probably some article on how to "Blow His Mind in Bed." This was like porn to me at a time when I should have been reading tips on "how to make eye contact during Social Studies without blushing."

I put my parents' cd, Dave Matthews Band's "Crash," into my boombox and became instantly distracted by the beauty of the song "Satellite." I almost started tearing up. However, I didn't have the maturity level at this age to cry about anything besides boys, my parents "not being fair!", or missing out on the lead in "The Diary of Anne Frank" because I wasn't skinny enough. So instead, I put down the magazine
and listened.

Five tracks later, I decided that I would dedicate my life to Dave.

From that moment on, I'd memorize everything I could about this man. His birthday would become my favorite number (19), I'd get vanity license plates (DMBFAN) for my car and refuse to listen to anything but Dave while driving inside of it. I was going to know more than anyone else. And in the end, through all of this work and dedication, I would somehow win his heart.

It had to work. What famous 32-year-old artist could resist a 15-year-old with frizzy hair, bushy eyebrows, and a bookbag covered with DMB fan art etched in whiteout pen?

I didn't care about the age difference. It actually prompted me to establish a rule which I'll now refer to as "the law of Dave." The oldest person I will date can be no more than 17 years my senior. Dave set this precedent.

In my 15-year-old brain, I honestly thought that I would meet Dave Matthews, and upon first sight, we'd fall in love. He'd think it was amazing that I knew everything about him and his band. We'd get married, and following the ceremony, he'd hook me up with backstage passes, all of his merchandise (which he'd get his whole band to sign!), and we'd live happily ever after on his estate in Georgia.

Oh, and we'd have sex to his song "Say Goodbye" ALL THE TIME. I hadn't even kissed a boy at this point in my life, but I knew I'd want to have sex to this song. I don't even know if I knew what sex entailed at this age. I'm sure I thought it was just rolling around naked. And I hadn't really considered whether we'd be listening to the song on CD, or if Dave would be singing it to me while we had sex, but it would happen. Oh would it happen.

Everyone in my high school knew me as the girl who loved DMB. I was that retard. Remember her? Ugh. Me too.

I would literally write "Nikki Matthews" in my notebooks during class. I didn't do it to be cliche. I did it because as a hormonal adolescent girl, it was a natural instinct. I had to know what it looked like. And I need to practice for the future, when fans would want Mrs. Matthews' autograph. I know I'd want it if I were still one
of those lowly fans.

In the meantime, before I could meet Dave face-to-face, I fell in puppy love with the only boy in school who's DMB knowledge rivaled my own. Doug Rees and I became best friends after I challenged him to a Dave-off one day in the courtyard during lunch.

That day, he won the contest, and my heart.

We started hanging out after school, retreating to his basement whereI'd listen to him strum "Trippin' Bilies" on his guitar, while I'd gaze at him, admiring his
hemp necklaces, tie-dye shirts, and other Dave-like attributes (they both had arms and legs!).

Soon, my crush had reached it's breaking point and I realized that this may be the closest I would ever get to kissing Dave Matthews himself. So, impulsively, one day while we were studying chemistry, the song "Crush" came on his CD player, and I could no longer contain myself. Like ripping off a Dave Matthews Band-aid, I blurted out, "Doug, I like you!"

It turns out he didn't feel the same.

But how could this be?! We shared a passion! We would have made the cutest couple (of losers)!

Doug eventually fell for my friend, Lesley, who must have had a healthy and controlled interest in his favorite band. She may have also had boobs.

And so, with the loss of Doug from my life, I channeled my heartbreak into functions I'd call "Dave Obsession Nights", which entailed me and my girlfriends raiding my parents' CD cabinet on a Friday night, and proceeding to dance and sing like idiots until we passed out around 1 am.

It would be another two years before we discovered my parents' alcohol cabinet. And with this finding, Dave became my second favorite thing in the world.

Nikki Glaser is a stand-up comedian living in Los Angeles who has recently written about hitting on waiters and prowlers with poor self-esteem. Go to www.myspace.com/nikkiglaser for info.