I know this much is True

I hate this song.

On the way home from work this evening I had the opportunity to hear Tony Hadley's 'soulful' rendition of the title track--one of the more enduring songs of the early 80s 'New Romantic' pop tunes, and a song that I--always--react viscerally to hearing and have for nearly 23 years.

It's Darren's fault. Darren from Denver. It's been so long, I don't have the slightest recollection of his full name and frankly...don't care. It doesn't matter.

What does matter is that he destroyed whatever possible enjoyment there might have been for me in hearing anything from this band. That's twenty-plus years of pop radio 'dedications' and special requests for Bobby-from-Suzy. All smashed--utterly ruined from the get-go.

Darren, a fellow resident of Dorm 12, Suite E, used to lock himself in his room next to mine and for hours play--and replay--individual songs on his boom-box (yes, that's what they were called then, thank you). First it was 'True.' Then it was 'Gold,' and finally 'Communication.'

I hear them now and I am instantly transported back in time to the fall of my freshman year. And I am hearing the song for the 5th or maybe the 17th time in a row--who really knows. You start to lose count after three weeks of hearing the same thing over & over & over & over.

I hear the tune now and I must sing along. I don't want to, but I need to. I haven't heard it in months, or maybe even years yet I can sing it all, from start to finish. Every verse, through every key change, humming the melody line in the sax solo.

It's like a sickness. And it's all Darren's fault. In a just world, I would know his last name and I could seek from him some sort of proper recompense for what he did to me. But sadly, what I didn't immediately push out of my mind in 1983, the passage of time has eradicated almost wholly. All that is left is a name and a vaguely-familiar image of a face with big round glasses slipping down a broad nose.

Darren decided the west coast wasn't for him. He only lasted one trimester with us there in Dorm 12. He returned to Colorado so that he could continue his schooling at the University of Denver and the chance to be nearer his high-school sweatheart.

Only problem was, she dumped him just as the trimester ended. I guess you could say I did get my revenge after all.