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MidReal Story
Rock Me
Scenario:After watching a movie about a guy who ends up being the replacement guitarist in a band. You come across a guy like that in real life. You wonder if you attracted such a guy from watching the movie so much and you hope he doesn’t have all the traits from the guy in the movie because he turned out jealous, and obsessive of the lead singer in the band. He’s emo-ish, seductive voice, slender, handsome. But if you did attract such a guy, how would this play out if you’re not in a band? He’s still a guitarist though.
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Ella
female. She is a movie enthusiast and a college student working on her PhD in Psychology. She is quirky,hopeful,and curious. Ella attends a concert where she meets a guy who reminds her of a character from one of her favorite movies. Excited by the coincidence,she invites him to coffee to discuss music and movies. Despite her reservations about past movie heroes,she hopes for a more genuine connection. Ella enjoys movies and music,using them as escapism and inspiration.
I just watched Rock Star for the millionth time and I swear I’m going to be the one who finds a guy just like Mark Hunter.
You know, the guy who starts out as the replacement guitarist for a tribute band but ends up being the replacement guitarist in the real band?
The guy who is slender, handsome, emo-ish, seductive voice, and a bit on the skinny side?
Yeah, that guy.
I’ve always had a thing for him and even though he turns out to be a bit of a jerk toward the end of the movie, I still love him.
I watch all of my favorite movies over and over again and I always hope that I’m going to attract someone like that into my life.
It’s just what I do and I always hope, even though I know that it never seems to work out.
I’m at a concert right now and I swear that I just saw a guy who looks just like him.
He’s playing guitar right now and he’s got that same slender build and handsome face.
I lean against the back wall of the venue, phone raised discreetly as the guitarist moves across the stage.
The lighting shifts from blue to purple and I can see that it’s going to be a great shot.
The purple lights cast dramatic shadows across his face and I can see that he’s got a bit of a five o’clock shadow going on.
My hands shake slightly as I try to frame the shot, waiting for him to step into the spotlight.
He turns toward my section, head tilted down as his fingers work the strings.
I press the capture button three times, rapid-fire, hoping that at least one of them will turn out clear enough to show my best friend later.
He looks up just as I lower my phone and our eyes meet.
In that moment, I know I've found my Mark Hunter.
I want to look away, but I can’t.
He’s still playing the guitar, his fingers moving across the strings with a practiced ease, but his eyes are on me and I can’t seem to tear myself away from them.
There’s a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth, like he knows that he’s got my attention and he’s not going to let it go.
The crowd around me fades into the background as he plays, the music swirling around me like a living thing.
I feel like I’m getting a private show and I don’t know whether to be embarrassed or excited.
He tilts his head slightly, dark hair falling across one eye.
I’ve seen that move before—in Rock Star, Mark Hunter does it every time he’s on stage.
It’s a move that exudes confidence and seduction and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I look at him. He winks at me between verses and I feel my throat go dry.
I clutch my phone tighter in my hand, torn between wanting to take more pictures of him and wanting to just enjoy the show.
He’s got a presence that draws you in and makes you want to watch him, even though you know that you shouldn’t be looking at him like this.
The final chord rings out, and as the lights dim, I realize I've been holding my breath.
The final chord still rings in my ears when a thunderous crash erupts from behind the stage curtain.
Metal clangs against metal, followed by shouts and cursing.
The crowd around me shifts uneasily, some people backing away while others crane their necks to see what's happening.
My guitarist—I’ve started thinking of him that way—drops his instrument mid-bow and rushes backstage.
Through the gap in the curtain, I glimpse overturned equipment and someone sprawled on the floor.
Security guards push through the audience toward the stage.