From a Distance

Some things are better admired from afar. Monet paintings. The New York City skyline. Baby Dayliner.

The latter is a singer that I discovered online through some friends in San Francisco. I watched the amateur, low-budget video that Baby Dayliner created a few years back and fell instantly in love with him. Though his dancing was comically awkward, and his appearance strange, his creative lyrics and the smooth, silky voice in which he belted them out more than made up for it. I became a die-hard Baby Dayliner fan.

Which is why, when I moved to New York, the very first thing I did was look up his next show and buy tickets (he lives in New York and is not quite famous enough to tour all over the country yet).

I spent the next three weeks looking forward to the show, like a child counting down days till Disneyland. The big night was last Wednesday. I brought sexy clothes to change into from work, I explained to my boss that I had to leave work early because I had a date… with destiny. I was excited to see him perform. But I was even more excited to talk to him after the show.

What was I expecting? That he’d fall instantly in love with me? That, despite the awkwardness in his videos, he’d be charming and witty in person?

The show was great, don’t get me wrong. He sang all my favorite songs beautifully. But I was disappointed to find that he has a large number of groupies – a following of girls that stood up in front of the stage the whole night singing every lyric to every song. It’s a harsh realization to learn that you’re one of many.

But still, I did not lose hope. After the show, as I was purchasing three of his CDs, I saw Baby Dayliner standing alone by the wall. With my heart pounding, I walked up to him and introduced myself. Shockingly, he recognized me from Myspace.com. Yes, we’d sent a few messages back and forth through the Internet. Dorky, I know.

We then proceeded to have a boring and uneventful three-minute conversation, heavy with small talk and awkward pauses, before he was mobbed by more groupies. He didn’t fall in love with me. He didn’t ask for my number. In fact, he didn’t even smile. So much for making baby Baby Dayliners.

After the disappointing conversation, I was ready to write him off completely, but after a couple days of watching him online again and listening to his CDs (which are excellent, by the way) I’ve decided that I can still love him over the internet. Perhaps that’s the way it was meant to be all along.