I'm 38 Years Old and Secretly Obsessed With a Dead Musician

I’ve been harboring a secret, one that is frankly embarrassing for a woman approaching her forties: I have developed an intense fixation with a deceased musician. Let me tell you, it’s absolutely all-consuming. And it hit me, seemingly, out of nowhere.

At the start of this fixation, I confided in a close friend and asked her when she thought this would cool down. She reassured me that it probably would, sooner or later. It’s been more than 18 months since that conversation. It hasn’t cooled down.

I had been aware of “Blaze” and his band for many years, even owning some of their music. I remember learning of his passing in 2010 and only recalling that collective sadness that we feel when a public figure passes—nothing more. My life went on. I appreciated their music just like any regular moderate fan. No insanity. 

Then he re-entered my life with no warning through a short snippet on social media: Blaze, a deep-voiced raven-haired Brooklynite, was talking about how he wishes to build his dream house in the woods for him and his “woman” so that she can be worshiped for the rest of his life. After that, he was forever ingrained in my mind. I devoured all of the music he and his previous bands had made. I picked up on poignant moments in tracks I had not discovered before. The sound of his voice went straight to my heart and turned it inside out and into mush. I couldn’t get enough of re-watching old live performances with my eyes fixed on the screen, utterly mesmerized. I was a woman possessed. 

I visited my teenage bedroom to collect all of my old music magazines with the most well-known band he fronted. There was a particular interview, which I recall reading back in 1999, where he candidly discusses the dismal state of his mental health (a rarity for men in 1990s rock journalism). As I have struggled with depression and deep insecurities for most of my life, this always stuck with me, even long before I could call myself a fan. I was always aware of him. Perhaps there was always a sense of familiarity I shared. 

I ask myself, “Why am I like this about a man that I never knew?”

I don’t want to focus too much on Blaze’s many physical attributes,  but it’s simply impossible for me to not mention how scrolling through endless photos and pining over him is a form of self-care for me. He makes me feel so unabashedly sensual — these are foreign feelings for someone with deep-rooted intimacy issues. (Thanks, pent-up trauma from my early twenties!)

I’ve remained extremely vanilla in my long-term relationship. My partner is somewhat aware of my “special interest.” We‘ve had a couple of awkward conversations. I’ll make a joke, in an attempt to minimize it. Sometimes, we’ll even joke about it together. I am hopeful that he will never know about the true intensity of this. But in reality, my Blaze fantasies hold no bounds. I remain thankful for the wild, no-holds-barred imagination I have, which keeps me up at night. This is no exaggeration.

As beautiful as he was, the way I relate to him on a human level is unparalleled. I share his deadpan, self-deprecating sense of humor. A beast of a man, he also had well-documented flaws and personal demons. He was authentic and raw and introspective and talented—a true force—which only perpetuates an intense longing, as I find myself so drawn to every aspect of him. Which is simply just pointless. 

While it may come as a surprise to the reader, I am grateful to not be delusional. I recognize that my behavior could be classified as slightly concerning. 

Online music forums are full of comments about the insanity of female fans. This one personally stings. In a fan scene with a reputation for women being a little unhinged and borderline psychotic, it’s difficult to not take this characterization to heart. However, I have forged supportive, female friendships in the least likely of places — uniting through an adoration of Blaze’s band. We cheer each other up on dark days by sharing videos and photos and finish off each other's quotes from band interviews. There is a strong female bond and solidarity. 

I’ve been trying to unpack this without professional help. First, I am a woman who’s just come off a medication that has been linked to a lower sex drive, and is having a personal crisis. I suspect I might have undiagnosed autism, which would explain many aspects of my personality. Ultimately, I am frustrated with many aspects of my personal and professional life, so I need a distraction and somewhere to channel my emotional energy. In an ideal world, I’d be using this frustration constructively to try and get a better-paid job and focus on writing. But alas, I’m creating folders on Pinterest, like a hormone-charged 14-year-old. 

Occasionally I have moments of extreme sadness, knowing I will never witness Blaze’s band play live (it hurts even more knowing that I had many missed opportunities). I will never get to thank him and tell him how much of an impact he has made on my life and helped me feel less alone in the world. These feelings come and go. I’ll pass an area where I know he was photographed. I’ll pass an area of town where I worked in the 2000s, while he was alive and possibly around in the same bars I frequented, if he was on tour. It’ll momentarily hurt. But then I’ll ask myself, “Why am I like this about a man that I never knew?”

I’ve learned that there are no easy answers, and there are myriad reasons why our brains form attachments like this. Perhaps one day I really will book that therapy appointment. In the meantime, you’ll find me going on long walks, listening to Blaze’s band at an incredibly high volume, and sharing band commentary videos with a group of girls.