I'd Do Anything For Love
(But I Won't Come Out)
The sad news of Meat Loaf’s passing has brought back memories of what was the most dramatic night of my life. His song I’d Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That), at 12 and a half minutes long, formed a large part of the soundtrack.
It was a Friday night in the autumn of 1993, I was 9 years old, had just started middle school and was going to my first school disco.
Up to this point middle school was going quite well. I’d made new friends, managed to get a girlfriend in YEAR 8 (three years my senior) and had carefully selected the perfect outfit from the FiDo DiDo range at C&A for the big night.
The school disco ran from 7-9pm. Two hours which felt like a lifetime because so much could and would happen. However, I could not possibly have predicted the traumatic events that were to follow.
I’d arrived promptly at 6:45pm, having been tipped off by my elderly and experienced girlfriend that you needed to get there early or face a disco dancing time wasting queue for the tuck shop. Stuffed full of penny sweets and clutching a refreshing cola Panda Pop, by 7:03pm I was ready to hit the dance floor.
I soon picked up the moves to the school disco staples like Walk of Life (a simple box step) and Nutbush City (a simple shuffle) and knew it wouldn’t be long before the DJ slowed things down a little and me and my geriatric girlfriend would have to physically embrace for our first slow dance.
I was a bit worried about this and, if I’m honest, quite annoyed that it was going to interrupt the fun I was having dancing solo. While I enjoyed the status of having a girlfriend in YEAR 8, I wasn’t all that interested in talking to her, touching her or going anywhere near her really.
It’s at this point that the night started to go wrong. Very wrong. Press play on IDAFL (BIWDT) now.
Over the opening bars of Meat Loaf the DJ took to the microphone…
“…muffled nasal noise… and er guys and gals… I’ve got a message for a Bobby here from Claire… she says you’re er… dumped mate. Bad luck. Here’s the Loaf…”
Dumped. Publicly. In front of the whole school. Our week long relationship was over but I had no time to process this because literally seconds later there was an almighty thud in the room. Audible, even over the sound of Meat Loaf hitting his stride. It sounded like a sack of potatoes hitting the deck.
Everyone turned to see the colourful embers of the disco lights dancing over a shadowy motionless human-shaped lump on the floor.
There was a collective gasp as we all quickly realised it was Daniel Betts. The hottest and baddest boy on earth Daniel Betts. The boy every girl (and this boy, shhh) had a gargantuan crush on DANIEL BETTS.
DANIEL BETTS WAS… DEAD?
We were strictly forbidden from climbing the wall bars outside of PE lessons which is of course exactly why the bad boy heartthrob sensation Daniel Betts had done it at the disco and now Daniel Betts was dead.
Or at least that’s what more or less every girl (and me), who was screaming at whoever would listen, thought. A friendly faced but absolutely ruthless dinner lady, working overtime to police the disco, soon approached Daniel’s corpse to slap his face and establish that wasn’t in fact the case.
At this point Meat Loaf still has a good 6 minutes to run and I am crying hysterically. I was overcome by a unique and devastating concoction of emotions which were in order of importance:
Euphoric joy that Daniel Betts had survived and was in fact alive and by this point had run off to cause more trouble somewhere else
Residual but intense grief that Daniel Betts had briefly died on the cold hard floor of the school hall
Humiliation at being dumped publicly by a cradle snatcher
Rage at the audacity of someone dumping me publicly at my first school disco especially when I was the best dressed boy on account of my FiDo DiDo by C&A ensemble
Sadness at having nervously downed my Panda Pop, cutting off my sugar supply and giving me a stomach ache
Some weekend maths homework I was a bit worried about
Several other minor inconveniences
The dissolution of my high profile relationship
I don’t think I stopped crying for the remainder of the disco. Only briefly enticed out of the shadows for a very depressing dance where you sit on the floor to Oops Upside Your Head because I’d been looking forward to that one.
The next thing I really remember is being in my Mum’s car with my sister on the way home. My crying was now more of a mournful sob than hysteria.
“Bobby, what’s wrong?”, my Mum asked.
“I was dumped over the disco Mum. I’m heartbroken and everyone was laughing. I loved her. I’ll never find love again. I’m going to die alone. I’m really not sure how I’m going to carry on to be honest. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.
“Oh, and some idiot loser fell off the wall bars and pretended to be dead.” I replied.
Watching: Yellowjackets. Yes it is that good. Christina Ricci is especially amazing.
Reading: Reptile Memoirs by Silje Ulstein. Shocking and twisty dual timeline Nordic thriller. Tipped to be huge this year. I have no idea where it’s going.
Listening: Angèle - Nonante-Cinq. Lovely French pop. Très bon.
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See you soon x