He grew up to look like Johnny Depp while I shed my little girl cuteness to become an acne-ridden witch

October is the heads-up, the trailer for the colossal and communal mood disorder that will come along with the darkness of the never-ending winter.

But something really strange and amazing and totally un-Juha related happened. I actually left the house on a Friday night to go to The Factory, an illegal and underground rock club in town. That's where the cool kids hung out, the kids I never saw in the streets or at the mall or on the bus. The first time I had gone I had been mesmerized, and couldn't believe that this place was located in Skellefteå, the god-forsaken town my parents had chosen to raise me in. It seemed so Stockholm, so London, so New York. Not that I would really know.
The darkened venue was populated with girls who looked like Robert Smith from The Cure – only cuter – and long-haired boys, mohawked boys, redskin boys, indie boys with messy hair and Dr. Martens boots. That time I had gone with a nerdy pen pal boy. It was our first date, except we didn't call it a date. There had been no romantic undertones in our correspondence – our letters had purely dealt with music, bands we liked and rock'n'roll gossip – but my head was filled with them. I had imagined him skinny and pale with eyes like black lakes with dangerous undercurrents below the mirror-like surface. And big plush lips of course. I had daydreamed us walking towards each other and thunder in the skies, an impossible magnetic pull, a yearning; an ache in the crotch area.


Because I am just as obsessed with romance as everyone else.

He was a total dork, of course. He wore shoes that made me embarrassed walking next to him. He smelled like After Shave that smelled like inspect repellent. His jeans were ill-fitting and of an unacceptable wash. It was easy to tell that he'd go prematurely bald. I didn't care because I wouldn't stick around to watch the hair grow thinner. I could barely be next to him in the club, because I was terrified that his uncool would rub off on me.
But somehow I did lend him a limited edition Sisters of Mercy record I never got back. I still haven't forgotten that Joel.

But this Friday night I went with Jimmy, a boy I had called my boyfriend when I was twelve and he eleven. He was my neighbor. He had been my boyfriend who I never got to kiss or dry-hump because he was terrified of germs. We broke up before I turned thirteen. Then I started playing dirty games with another boy who also happened to be a neighbor and a family friend. He grew up to look like Johnny Depp while I shed my little girl cuteness to become an acne-ridden witch. Jimmy grew up to grow a really badass mowhak and become a binge-drinker and I took him to the show at the Factory. We hadn't been in touch lately so I hadn't had a chance to bore him with my Juha-talk.
West European Politics played that night. I had heard about them. They were a local band with a lead singer who kind of looked like Juha. That night at the factory he had painted an up-side-down cross on his forehead. He was the coolest boy I had seen in Skellefteå. After the gig I saw him with his arms wrapped around a pixie girl with a pale face so perfect I could have rest my gaze there forever.
Jimmy and I milled about and drank beer and wished we had some friends, knew some of the people there. Because they were so clearly our kind of people. But we left without haven spoke to anyone.

But the next day we were at the bus station smoking cigarettes and drinking coca-cola and waiting when a dark blue car pulled up next to us. The driver was the singer of West European Politics and he pulled the window down. His beautiful girlfriend was sitting next to him and the bass player or the band was in the backseat. He said; Hey guys! I saw you at the show last night.
Yes, it was really cool, I said, stunned. Why was he talking to us?
And then he proceeded to invite us to come along to a gig in Umeå the following weekend. He gave me his phone number and said to call on Thursday and then they drove off.
Jimmy and I looked at each other and smirked.
I was on to bigger and better things, I thought. And wondered about my pact. And then about what Juha could be doing in his cell. But it wasn't a thought that could hold my interest for very long. Not now.