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I hated her. Loathed her in every possible way. I considered her to be the downfall of music--and quite possibly the universe. And the latter still seems likely.
Nevertheless, my once arch nemesis lead me on a long and perilous quest that ended with me, sitting in my room late at night, trying to play an acoustic version of "Alejandro" (Which actually, could have been worse)
A little more than a year ago, everyone adored the new song "Just Dance." No one would argue that it was anything more than another 3-minute ode to getting intoxicated; probably not even Lady GaGa herself. Still, who wasn't fascinated by this lunatic wearing Ziggy Stardust makeup and some sort of Tele-Tubbie outfit?! Me.
As Lady GaGa became more and more popular, I took a firm stance of brushing her off every time she was mentioned. I would roll my eyes when someone asked if I "tOtAllllly luuuuved Papparazzziiii!" Then I probably would go home and make out with my vinyl collection or something else equally indie.
And then..."Bad Romance" It was EVERYWHERE. And you really can't brush off something when it takes over the world. It was around this time that my annoyance turned into a blind rage for the simple fact: I kind of liked it. It was unnaturally catchy and painfully memorable. I couldn't stand the fact that this bedazzled harpie was worming her way into my musical life.
Of course the next step was for my mild, inward annoyance to become blatant, outright hatred. I would somehow work the concept of Lady GaGa into my conversations so I could feel the momentarily rush of pointing out her numerous flaw. Had the following turn of events not occurred, my next step would probably have been handing out fliers.
Instead, one night as I sat on YouTube, watching grainy clips of Lady Gaga in a Kermit the Frog suit, I had a revelation:
This woman is my hero.
The following day, I went to the music store wearing sunglasses. I still wasn't prepared for the world to know my daunting secret. Nervously, I asked the girl at the register where I could find the Lady GaGa CD's. As she lead me to the cabinet of techno music, I muttered that it was for a friend. I grabbed the 2-Disc Deluxe Edition of "The Fame Monster" asked for a gift receipt, and sprinted home.
It's been two months since then, and I am now much more openly crazy about Lady GaGa, regardless of the fact that I, nor anybody else will ever understand her.
This upcoming September, I'll be attending her concert with a few of my friends. And I can promise you, I will not be wearing sunglasses.
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