The first time I heard Angel Olsen was on my first date with my partner, James. He drove to my college, we went on a walk, and then we saw Moana in theaters. On the drive there in his family minivan, he played My Woman, which had been released two months earlier.
James and I met on tinder, and most
of our conversations revolved around music. He was the first person I dated who
knew from the outset my pronouns were they/them. Really, he was the first
person who had only known me by those pronouns. He was the first person I had
introduced myself to as non-binary, my family and friends still in various stages
of adjusting to my new preferences. After our first date, I looked up Angel
Olsen and watched her video for “Shut Up Kiss Me” on repeat. James and I hadn’t
kissed yet, our first date ending in a deeply awkward fist bump situation, but
already I felt surprisingly comfortable with him. This album always reminds me
of those first weeks of our relationship; the giddy rush to see each other as
often as we could, driving next to him with the Barack Obama[1]
scented air freshener that mingled with the smell of cigarettes and weed.
The first time I saw Angel Olsen
live was with James and his mom. We saw her at the 9:30 club in DC where I
accidentally bought a $20 cider. The next time I saw her was several years
later, on what I still remember as a really lovely night. It was my second to
last show before quarantine hit, and some acquaintances had saved seats for me
and James, which was honestly the sweetest thing I could think of to do for
someone at a sold-out theater show[2].
After the show, James and I got food at a late-night café, and it felt like those
early days of our relationship. I felt comfortably giddy, excited at the
possibility of being known by someone knew. Only this time, I felt grateful to
be loved by someone who knew me completely, not just the possibility of it
happening.
This album always has a special
place in my heart. About two months after James and I started dating, we went
long distance. I went to New Zealand for six months, and although we talked and
exchanged letters often, this album reminds me of the anxiety I felt being away
from someone I liked so much. Now, as I quarantine for two weeks in order to
safely see my family for Christmas, having freshly said goodbye to James for our
month apart, I’m re-listening to the album and feeling nostalgic and grateful. James
and I haven’t been apart for this long since I went abroad, but we have a lot more
going for us this time around, and I know it’ll be fine.
[1] I’m
not kidding- it wasn’t even air freshener, it was technically “blunt spray”, and
James had gotten it as a joke at a 7/11. I unironically loved the smell of it.
He did not.
[2]
Rail or fail is an individualistic way of life. If you don’t work to get to the
rail, you don’t deserve it. No one will help you unless you earn it.
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