#diaryofasupergroupie

[diaryofasupergroupie]

This post is quite personal and talks about my mental health, my relationships and stuff I have been going through lately so if this is at all triggering please don’t read it. But I think it is important to be authentic and real like a lot of people who message me are with me. Enjoy! xoxo - K

Tour was thoroughly chaotic as to be expected. Sometimes things aren’t designed to run smoothly and at the very last moment things tend to fall apart for a reason. As the tour went on K began to become more chaotic and manic with how he spoke and what he did. All I wanted was to look after him and keep him safe but that is a lot easier said than done. He was completely exhausted after the whole act he was putting on through the show and with the fans. There were a group of kids who followed the entire tour and eventually when the doors were closed and everyone was gone he would want to fall to pieces. He begged for a hit so he would get to feel what he used to. I cared for him, I truly did and I had every intention of going on tour with him even while I was falling apart but things don’t always work out that way.

I was due to fly out alone before the plans changed to me flying out hours later but with my friend M and their photographer, before finally the flight was cancelled. It was one of those moments when everything seems to be conspiring against you and you have to wonder if the universe is trying to tell you something. My gut told me to pull out and with all the sorrys in the world I sent him my love and a care package with M who flew out today.

While I said I would update you on tour people have told me they like how honest I am when it comes to my own mental health and my toxic relationship with C. I can’t talk about this week without talking about the decline that led to me having a meltdown in a tiny shower room with M. I’m very good at maintaining a state of denial throughout my day. While I was busy living in that under the surface there was me wanting to pull my hair out with the thought of C touring the UK very soon and my age going up. For C if you have read my previous post on him you know why that would be making me anxious. But something I don’t think I have shared is just how much my age has got to me. Most of the girls trying to surround the bands I love are younger than me and the realisation that next September I will be studying for a Masters degree and then have to get a 9-5 job has been haunting me for a while now. When I decide to leave the scene it is always because I feel too old for it and I am so scared of what everyone else will think.

When I went on the road with the band this only got worse and not because I didn’t want to be there. I love touring and I love music, more than anything. It makes me feel something that I can’t even explain. Music for me can be like a spiritual experience and when I am there with it I feel like I am high. If you don’t feel like that I don’t know whether I can explain it to you really. But that feeling that I shouldn’t be there and should instead be focusing on being an adult despite all the bands being in their late twenties and thirties was driving me crazy.

I would never cry in front of the band or have anything resembling a meltdown. But when they went on stage I was with M and locked myself in the shower room. Having meltdowns is a lot less common for me than it used to be and honestly I thought I was over them. Maybe part of me was scared of being in the scene because of what happened with C but I think it was definitely a mixture of both. C is more of a temporary fear while my age and having to grow up is more of a permanent one. The real issue is when you’ve been in the scene for as long as I have and from such an early age all the meaningful relationships in your life come from the scene. My best friends are groupies just like I am deep inside. The man who has been there through everything and is like my big brother is in a band with his life revolving around music. The man who is like a father to me is in a huge band with his life revolving around the industry too. Separating myself from that leaves me not alone but definitely limited.

While I was having a meltdown M phoned A who called me by my real name and calmed me enough for me to breathe again. A had always had this effect on me and he is one of few that can do this with me. He was so busy at the time but he still from across the Atlantic somehow calmed me down. The next night I came home and over four hours of facetime we got drunk together. We talked and reminisced about when we met in ‘09 all those years ago when the industry was such a different place. We were different people too with him being so silly yet mysterious while I was filled with trauma that had yet to happen. He fondly describes me as a very nice girl who had a very big chip on her shoulder. I loved everything but he saw me as someone who was so dark but could be so light. With risk of this sounding rather depressing we saw something in each other. We also talked about his terrible fashion sense back then and how over backcombed my hair was. We’ve both gone through terrible fashion phases. We invented our very own drinking game where we would read fanfiction about him and the first to break character would drink. I drank an impossible amount and had the hangover of all hangovers the next day. At one point he got up and disappeared for a while too and when he returned told me he had thrown up before he poured himself another drink.

Before all that though he told me he didn’t understand me at all. Everyone who asked me to go to their gigs and to tour with them wanted me there and were friends with me. The words he spoke to me made me realise that he knew me so well and he knew the real me. K and the real me are not two different people. They are the same and it’s stupid to think otherwise. Sure, their behaviour is certainly different but the way K loves the music and would do anything for it is real and it is inside me every moment of the day. A told me that if I didn’t stop with this too old bullshit I would give myself a mental breakdown and if I am honest I think he’s right. If I stop myself from being in the scene I won’t be me or even the person I want to be. I have one year to experience everything and I intend to. I am also doing it different thanks to A as well, instead of just being there for the ride I am learning all I can. This year I want to work on my book, to do more photography, production and PR for my friends. I have been so focused on growing up that I forgot how hard it is to get a job. You need to experience and if the industry can be something else for me I am going to take it. Besides, I can’t ignore my talent for somehow getting to meet the headliner.

I love music and the people who make it and that is always going to be part of me. Being a groupie isn’t about the drama with other girls or the exs who try to tear you to pieces. It’s about the music and being close to it. This all comes to me being comfortable in the scene now. No one actually knows how old I am they just know I have always been there which is something M keeps reminding me and honestly I could pass for 18. I also won’t have it any other way when C comes here playing the song about how awful I am to his fans. I don’t know the point in sharing all this really but I try to be authentic and honest which may help you all believe that I am a real person and not some creature who doesn’t feel anything and just gets to go to all these nice places. This is entirely stream of consciousness but hopefully someone can take something from it, I’m just not sure what exactly. Either way I think I’m done caring what other people think.     

[diaryofasupergroupie]

Banana Kinks

Read my groupie sex stories and how I got into the scene. Ask questions of how to get into the groupie scene here!

I have tons of backstage experiences. The problem is when you are stuck in one city they follow the same routine. Go backstage, have drinks, party, watch the gig from side stage, more partying and go home until the next band are in town. Did I hook up? It depends on my mood. When you get access all areas you get a tiny piece of the men who make the music your soul craves. When you get invited on tour you get all of them even if it’s only for a little while. In Spring 2017 the old groupies had all grown up. In the groupie scene now bands tend to come back to the same girls. Some of my favourites were due back for a tour. I had known the band since 2009 when I first got into the scene – to find out how read my first posts. This band hold a space close to my heart. Without them would I be a groupie? Probably, but they like to say they got me into it. D was the man who took my soul and dipped it in the groupie font filled with sex, drugs and rock’n’roll. Now he was without a UK girl.

Before I continue you may need some context. There are millions of girls in the UK so why should this matter to me? There is a very big line in the sand between a band whore, hook up and groupie. A hook up I defined as a random girl who has hooked up with her man for one right or maybe more. Sometimes her number will be saved but probably not. She was a onetime thing. Whereas a band whore is a hook up that has done the background work. She hooks up purely because the music drew her in, he’s attractive and he’s in a band. She’ll usually be kept on his phone with her name and city prepped and primed for a hook up the next time he is in town. I blame the ‘we can’t be fans of the band if we sleep with them’ mentality on the band whores. Groupies are an entirely different breed. They love the band, the ones who make it up and the music. Groupies are fans and put the passion in the scene. They’re with the band or they follow the band. The latter I’ve never done, probably because I can’t drive. There are plenty of hook-ups and band whores waiting in the wings and ready to offer themselves for the cause. But groupies are different and a good groupie who doesn’t brag on twitter is worth their weight in gold.

My groupie friend C had become my real life friend too. She had her favourites, thankfully we’ve never shared one. She had her eyes on the bass player and needed backup. I had spoken to D and at this point in his career he was very charming and smooth. He was very good at making you feel important and like you were the only girl that mattered. He called me the night before his gig. “K, I want you out on the road with me.” Me? “I need a UK girl and I want you.” Oh. My. God. UK girl. Not girl in general, but I was going to take what I could get. There will be someone calling me stupid. But in the scene this is a perfectly reasonable thing to ask of someone. Besides, I had known D for going on a decade. He made me feel things I forgot I was capable of feeling.

The next day I went to London with C. The band had passed the awkward van stage. They had well and truly blew up. My first tour experience was going to be with a band with a million followers, a fan base that was more dangerous than the SAS and headlining arenas under their belt. The beauty of this is the blend of rock’n’roll and luxury. You can be a rebel and a groupie daydream while travelling in tour buses and staying in hotels. When we arrived I was about to learn a very important lesson. Boys will think they are the ones in charge and mostly they are. The boys are the ones allowing you entry, booking your hotels and paying for your plane tickets. Don’t get me wrong, I love the scene. I have never been taken advantage of. But if I would have given people the opportunity then I definitely would be a horror story. I walked inside the hotel room and saw my lovely D. Sometimes when you see what could be so close you convince yourself that what you’re seeing is a rose when in reality it is a weed. I had known the band for so long. The rest were in another room of the suite so I went to join my wonderful D. He was sat at by the bed nursing a cup of something that smelled God awful. I looked at him and when I saw him down the remains of his cup I knew exactly how drunk he was. When he was drunk he didn’t hide it well. I was drawing at straws and touched his shoulder gently. He looked up like I had burnt him. Then he looked at me with such an innocence that I melted inside. I had seen him do such naughty things but now he reminded me of a child. K, you do care about me, don’t you, he whispered. I smiled and nodded, yes, of course I did. D nodded to himself and came to kiss me. The alcohol on this lips burnt me outside in until I was starting to get drunk off of him. D urged me forwards and pulled me close to him with his arms wrapped around my waist. “K, will you do something for me? I’m drunk but I need you to do the thing that’s in my head right now.” I would have done anything for him in that moment. “I want to get you off.” Music to my ears. This was what everyone wanted – a talented musician on a sold out tour with his arms wrapped around me like I was precious offering to get me off. I was swooning. He pushed me off of him and I sat down next to him. His hand brushed past my breasts, stomach and made its way down into my jeans. My eyes fluttered closed and his lips found my neck. He sucked my skin leaving little marks to let everyone know I was with him. “I want to get you off with this.” My eyes opened and I pulled back until his hand backtracked. I have tried to write this part several times but each one comes off sounding trashy. I can make a lot of things sound pretty but this isn’t one of them. This is a request I had never been asked before and never have been asked since. In his hand he held an almost ripe banana. I looked between the banana and him and the horror I felt wasn’t going away. I have given so much of myself to the scene but this was something even I was going to draw the line at.

If you can see your goal in sight but have to sacrifice your self-respect to achieve it then it isn’t worth it. There may be girls out there who love being penetrated with a banana, but I am not one of them. I’m not here to kink shame, each to their own I suppose. A month later I heard he asked one of the younger girls in the scene called M and she said yes. There’s more of her coming so remember her name. But as a groupie you have every right to say no. As much as it pained me I pushed D away and got to my feet. I grabbed my bag and stormed out of the hotel room leaving C behind – a groupie no no. Her boy was much nicer though. I sat angrily waiting for my taxi in the hotel bar where I met a handsome civilian which was an entirely different disaster in itself. When you love the music as much as I do though civilian romances don’t tend to last too long.

[diaryofasupergroupie]

Groupie Initiation (pt. 1)

The way the scene is currently half of the girls are refusing to admit they’re ‘groupies’ and the other half are band whores using the ‘groupie’ label as their claim to fame. I’m a groupie but my stories have nothing to do with roadies getting me backstage. I travel with the band. I get All Access. I get cars sent to take me to the studio. I get invites to all the right parties. I’m quite literally on top. But god I started at the bottom.

Before you know my best stories and favourite boys you need some context. There are girls out there who are hanging around hotels and venues day and night in hopes of sleeping with anyone in or close to the band – roadies, sound guys, venue managers. Who cares? All roads lead to home. We all need the Connie Hamzy’s of this world. But I am not one of them.

I got into this accidentally. Let me start by dispelling misconception number one. I’ve only ever been there for the music despite what you may assume. Pamela Des Barres said, any good groupie loves the music so much it is part of the blood stream. The music has moved me in ways nothing else has. It’s a part of the soul. At fourteen I went to a gig with a friend in a rundown venue. Venues like that are small and intimate, covered in grime, very little backstage and the stage within touching distance. The band can’t be named, the last time I checked their social media count had hit one million. But back then they were young and broke. My first experience of a band which were a. signed and b. American.

The gig was hot and sweaty. The singer’s voice was high making them all sound more my age than what they really were. Afterwards it was usual procedure to wait around in the venue and outside. L was the tour manager for the band and one of their best friends. He came to my friend and I and asked for a lighter. We were both too young and had never smoked before in our lives. But I told L that mine had just broke to try and seem older and cooler than I obviously was. I was all torn tights and eyeliner back then. L asked if we wanted to meet the band. The idea of a musician always seemed so out of reach. I was raised on The Beatles, Oasis and the Sex Pistols. The whole thing was so exotic.

The band came out and I met them for the first time. Remember them because in the later years they appear a lot. They asked where was good to go out because the legal age was eighteen not the twenty-one of America. I named some place my cousin went to pretending like I was going to be let in. I told them all I was seventeen. The drummer A called me out and told me I looked every bit of my age and it wasn’t seventeen. The band could guess exactly how old I was but it wasn’t important. D was in the band too. He pulled me to one side all dark and tall and childlike. He was the good time guy. He didn’t become smooth and charming until later. He had this wide grin that at the time made me weak in the knees and started a churning deep in my stomach. At one point I think I coughed because of the butterflies that were gradually rising. “What’s your name then, British girl?” he asked me. My first musician was in front of me and I was concentrating on remembering how to talk. “K.” I responded. He asked my age and I said seventeen again. That was good enough, now things are different. Bands and the tour managers always ask for ID.

D was the start of everything. I was too trusting and naïve. He asked where I lived but when I refused to tell him he told me where he was staying. It was on the floor of a friend’s house. That made it even more exciting. My friend bailed when she saw where it was headed. Misconceptions that groupies have no sense of danger – not much of a misconception in my case. I didn’t go to the gig looking to meet the band or go back with them. But I left in their tour van. On the way there I was trying to hide just how much I was flipping inside. I was in the van of the band I saw that night that had fans screaming at them. In my adolescent mind I had made it. In my adolescent mind I hadn’t quite grasped the concept of what a groupie was, that they probably thought I was one or that I was certainly sending a very particular message. See above where I said I was naïve.

Something exciting just has to happen. I was young playing pretend wearing big girl clothes with treble clefs tattooed in my ears and eyelids and tongue and soul being all I slept, ate and lived for. The heart sounds like a drum – how can music not be part of the blood stream? D had his hand on my knee and I somehow made it in the house that acts as one big horror movie plot. We didn’t talk. We sat down in a room alone and then I became self-conscious of the fact I wasn’t skinny and developed and beautiful. Misconception – band boys only want super model-esque girls. They want confidence and mine was right through the floor. But I didn’t let that show for one second.

He didn’t let me talk. His lips met mine and something inside of me lit up so I probably glowed from the inside out. Before he kissed me I had barely been kissed. D kissed me like he wanted to devour me and savour the pieces as he did so. For my initiation into groupiedom there were no fireworks or fanfares. But there were roadies and the band watching through the tinted glass of someone’s mom’s house. We didn’t talk, we just kissed. He tried to touch my waist and I told him no. He listened and kissed me the way your grandmother tells you doesn’t even exist. He bit down on my lip and it bled. I didn’t even know people were allowed to do that.

When it got too late and I was left every bit virgin and innocent but every bit experienced and awakened. D walked me to my bus stop. He gave me my bus fair and told me they had some more shows this week and I should come. That was probably the last time I ever waited for an invitation. My first groupie experience had no sex or drugs or alcohol or partying. But everyone starts at the bottom, the next night was far more stereotypical.

[diaryofasupergroupie]

Hello!

My name is K and I am a super groupie. Synonymous with band whore, lot lizard, slut and tramp. Through the sea of fame seekers and desperate minors what the word means has become warped to mean a pretty girl who opens her legs at the strum of an acoustic guitar. I aim to set the record straight and tell you my account of being All Access in the scene for ten years. I really have seen it all. I’ve been on the road and in the studio while I dated and mothered some of the nicest and worst men in the scene. I won’t name names and I won’t lie or exaggerate. From the very beginning I have kept a diary. I want to use this blog to hopefully share how it really is to kill any misconceptions you might have and entertain or give insight on a world which now is very private! Stories to come shortly!