“But I love making you sandwiches,” I whined. He said that the man did not believe that meeting his demands would make me happy. He wants autonomy, not a pet.
I just rolled out of the shower like a cat and got up from his short-term rental in Los Angeles. I have been living there for half a year since the third day of the meeting three months ago. He is in a hurry to go to work and is away from me.
As he brushed his teeth, he said he was done. His parting words: “And wipe his face!”
Stunned, I circled in the foggy mirror and saw white snot dripping from my nose. I'm a loser.
A week later, a friend quietly informed me that the man had already moved away. He became famous. A-list celebrities. Before I could take a breather, it was front page news. They were “canoodling” on television, on cell phones, and in magazines at the grocery store checkout line.
I spent the rest of the week lazing around. I can not eat. My heart was broken. Ego has disappeared. Embarrassment swirls as you look at yourself through his harsh baby blue light. I poured all my unbearable emotions into a grand farewell song and covered the ink in my notebook with tears.
My sadness turned to anger when his mother emailed me a photo from our recent visit (apparently unaware of his upgrade).
“Let me show you,” I squinted, steam coming out of my ears. I proclaimed this out loud so that the fairies, the universe, God, and my best friend could hear. He will listen to me! He won't be able to escape from me! ”
I need to be famous to get back at him or get him back.
He was everything I was looking for – successful, handsome, and creative. He was seven years older than me, had an expensive watch, flew first class, and looked very mature. He was a guy — nothing like the boys I'd dated before him. He was The Man.
I tried to make him believe that I was everything he was looking for. At first he said he was only interested in women, not girls. I nodded in agreement behind the obvious chemistry. Sex was the only area of my life where I felt truly grown up.
On paper, I looked okay. I was playing in a band that was newly signed to a major label. I've been a model since I was a child. My father was well known for his performance of one of the most iconic television theme songs of all time. Most people imagined that I personally was wealthy.
But the truth is, it wasn't my band. I was a frustrated singer-songwriter who used to play bass and sing background just to perform live. The people at the front desk didn't take me seriously or let me write with them, and I still hadn't been paid. My modeling career tapered off by the time I was in my late teens. There was no trust fund. In fact, she didn't even have two nickels to rub together. I didn't even have a car. Or home. I stayed in a friend's guest room in an attempt to save money before my next tour.
At 30 years old, I was living like a teenager. And to be honest, I wanted to be saved.
It didn't take long for cracks to appear. The man often asked me what I really wanted in life. Unsure of my ability to realize my songwriting ambitions, I balked and answered: with you. “This seemed to irritate him.
An old-fashioned gentleman, he was willing to pay until he knew he had no other choice.
He often brought up the story of his intention to return to his hometown overseas. soon. I looked at him with wide eyes, trying to telepathically send him a message to take me.
One morning, while we were having an “adult” conversation, The Man urged me to confront the band about the lack of pay. I called the band leader for answers. When the conversation turned into an argument, I finally realized that I was being taken advantage of. I quit on the spot. I thought The Man would be proud of me. Instead, he dumped me.
I soon learned that he had begun dating one of the stars of the show, who, oddly enough, had co-written its hugely successful theme song with my father. And I realized that she was everything I wasn't. She's definitely an adult, very wealthy, and an A-list celebrity. And (at least it seemed that way) she spent her life together.
I remember his family asking me about my father, the song, the show, and if I had ever met the star. I didn't. But I would do it now.
Although this situation was extremely humiliating, it woke me up. In every aspect of my life, I was hiding behind someone brave enough to be great. my father. the man. Band frontmen. I felt inferior to all of them and wanted them to lead. My talent and confidence didn't develop overnight. But…I was a scorned woman and had nothing to lose.
Tired of living in the shadow, I decided to find my own light.
I have to work. I found a job as a hostess at a restaurant. I started writing songs every day. We set up meetings and studio sessions while riding the LA city bus to and from the city.
While reading the tabloids, I learned that The Man was staying in Los Angeles and moving into his girlfriend's Malibu mansion. I got fired from my job as a hostess for crying on the floor, which is never an ideal greeting in the restaurant industry. But when it came to music and writing, he was performing like never before. I was aiming for an Everest-sized climb from Lutherville.
A few months later, I answered a random call from a director I knew, asking if I would be interested in pitching a song to a pilot he was producing. I wrote a song that piqued the interest of the show's creators. During our meeting, he thought that if the show got picked up, he might be able to write a song for each episode. I knew it was better not to get too excited. This kind of story always seemed too good to be true.
All of a sudden, I ended up appearing on a TV show.
In a whirlwind of what can only be considered magic, I now have ten original songs to write and record. I also appeared in a small role in the program.
Despite all this good news, I still couldn't get The Man out of my mind and when I found out he was engaged, I took the news seriously. I remembered a song I had written in the first week of that horrible breakup, dug it up and pitched it to a producer. It made them cry. Apparently, in show business, this is a very good thing.
Topical articles about our show started appearing in the same magazines where I watched The Man's “beloved” relationship unfold. As my excitement grew, my feelings for him diminished. Billboards have gone up all over town. The producer invited me to sing a farewell song at the LA premiere. Now I secretly thanked The Man for hurting me enough to write something so true.
On the night of the premiere, I wore a fitted white silk dress. A black car dropped me off in front of a theater where a crowd had gathered. As I stepped onto the red carpet and stepped into the spotlight, I was blinded by flashes and the sound of my name being called from all directions simultaneously. “Holly, here we are! Holly, smile,” shouted the photographers. When I reached the end of the carpet, I turned around to watch the madness and catch my breath.
To my surprise, right behind me, The Man and his famous fiancée were enjoying a red carpet moment. He looked uncomfortable, but his girlfriend didn't notice as he waved at the camera. I thought he might throw up. I tried to make eye contact, but he pretended not to know me.
I have never been more overwhelmed than in that moment. I was devastated that he wouldn't make eye contact, but I was overjoyed that my declaration on that fateful day had miraculously come true. There was no doubt that he saw me. I wondered if he had been watching me the whole time, or if he felt something inside me that I hadn't yet seen myself. He was absolutely right. I could never have been happier having him make me a sandwich. I was destined for more.
I sang a farewell song about The Man to The Man, and about 2,000 other people. It's been less than two years and I've become a completely different person. I finally understood what The Man meant to me. Not love lost, but a catalyst. He played a small but pivotal role in pushing me to step up and be myself. I discovered my power by having my dreams and speaking them out loud. I couldn't become a celebrity. But I became the hero of my story. And it was the greatest revenge of all.
Holly Solem is a singer-songwriter, model, actor, and author known for her role in the Amazon original series Hands of God, as well as her work with numerous bands and artists, touring, and writing. She has had over 25 of her songs appear in movies and television. In 2022, she began writing and posting personal essays about her life in Hollywood on Substack's Holly Could. She is currently writing her first memoir. You can visit her on Instagram @HollyMSolem.
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