It all started with a Michael Flattley concert in 1997. That’s right, not a Backstreet Boys concert (we’ll get into that later). Anyway, that Michael Flattley show was epic and prompted my love of seeing live music. As I grew older, I would come to see a lot of shows. Most of them were punk, indie or metal shows. During this time period, I had a pair of coveted checkered Vans that I wore to every show I attended. They were ripped up to shreds and the only reason I still wore them, was because I wasn’t afraid of stepping in beer and ruining them.
In 2014, I saw my first IAWLT show/first BSB show ever. This was my first experience at a ‘pop’ concert. Not knowing what to expect, I wore these shoes. When I sat down, I noticed that the people around me were fairly tame and they just seemed to be excited at the prospect of being there.
Unlike the other concerts I had attended, the people who were there weren’t into drinking and beer really wasn’t being served. Selfies seemed to be more appropriate at this show. Anyway, I looked down at my shoes and then at my friend’s. She had worn heels and had gussied herself up. Her reasoning had been that she had wanted to look cute for Nick. I figured Kevin would never see me from that far away and I really hadn’t tried. My motto was, “fuck it!” Well, the show began, and we were actually in a GREAT spot and we were certain the boys could indeed see us.
Throughout the show, Kevin looked at me/made serious eye contact and I immediately became super self-conscious about my attire since everyone else around me looked super cute. Did he notice? Did he care?
I would learn later on that Kevin is big on eye contact and that he really doesn’t care what you look like as long as you’re having a good time. Pretty sure this goes for the others as well. Literally no cares what you look like. Only you do and you’re the only one you need to impress.
I can tell you that I now dress to fit my mood. Sometimes I dress comfortably (although, I no longer wear the beer shoes) and sometimes I dress to wow myself. Even on my worst days of no makeup and questionable attire, my boo always tells me how good I look. I guess he learned early on in his marriage that he needed to say shit like that to keep the peace. But either way, I love hearing that I look good or to see him smile because he’s happy to see me from way up there on stage.