Dear Felice Brothers,
I have to be honest: before last night, I had fallen solidly out of love with you. But I’m writing now to tell you that I was wrong, and I’m sorry.
It was love at first sight back in November of 2007 at the DAR Constitution Hall. And like most fast loves, I fell hard. After our first hugs and discovery of our mutual love of drinking booze out of jars, I was totally obsessed. From then on, I traveled wherever I could to see you, introduced you to all my friends and family, and then started baking you cupcakes.
But after a couple years, the shine started wearing off. Simone, whose literary leanings gave him a special place in my heart, bailed on our relationship to see other people. You other brothers had grown distant as more and more admirers came flocking. I felt held at arm’s length and brushed off, and like our long-term relationship was no longer valuable. Finally, in Richmond, I brought along a slew of friends to meet you, and it was like we’d never met. I was crushed.
So I broke up with you–put all my mementos of our time together out of sight, stopped trying to see you, put away all your CDs. I mourned our inability to keep things together and wished in vain for a return to simpler times. But a part of me wished we could get back together.
Fast forward two years. I now live in NYC and had meant to check out the Bell House (or so I told myself), when I realized you’d be there this week. So I decided to stop in and say hi and see about rebuilding at least a friendship.
And you were electrifying; you were nostalgic and new all at once. We all had fun together (thanks for the dance, Ian) and the energy was unbelievable. It was somehow a mix of warm comfort and an ass-shaking good time, and just like that I was in love again. Also it didn’t exactly hurt that you had Conor Oberst join in for a bit…and just fyi he’s welcome into our relationship anytime.
I’m sorry I ever broke up with you, Felice Brothers. Please take me back?