DAVE GROHL NEEDS A REDEMPTION ARC

And I think I could help out with that

While I was out last night reliving my college years in Athens, Georgia, a very different part of my musical history popped up late in the evening.

I pulled my phone out of my back pocket to take a picture of the final bows, and it had butt-opened itself to Messenger where I saw a new message. A friend sent me a link to a story revealing the name of the woman who gave birth to Dave Grohl’s baby last August (which I am not linking here, you can find it yourself if you care enough).

Because as soon as there’s any news about Dave Grohl, people send it to me. Which I totally get. Foo Fighters are “my” band in the same way R.E.M. is “my” band, except Michael Stipe never called me his “internet crush.”

It’s one of those “I brought this on myself” things because people make assumptions when they choose to fill in details they think I’ve omitted from my stories about him. When you feel like you need to protect someone else to your detriment, you’re going to have to deal with the fallout and the misinformed judgy perception of others.

There are some things I know about Dave that I’ve never shared publicly out of respect for his relationship with his daughters, which has now been fractured by the baby scandal. I’ve always thought that if I shared those things, I’d come across as a petty bitch trying to make the Nicest Guy In Rock look like a dick. Now something else has made him look like a dick.

I get why people still think I want him for mine own. I’ve been called a groupie and a stalker by too many assholes, because that’s what women who like music and bands and rock stars get called. I’ve never had to touch anyone to get anywhere, THANK YOU, so that makes me the world’s worst groupie.

Yes, over the years, I’ve used the internet to try to get Dave’s attention, but not because I wanted him. I had other reasons for why I wanted to talk to him again, yet there’s no way to communicate that to someone you can’t get in touch with. He has people who work for him whose job it is to keep people away from him, I’ve seen it and I’ve been impacted by it. Being misunderstood is SO FUN!

I can’t stress this enough: I am not in love with Dave Grohl, you guys. I don’t care who doesn’t believe me, but I’m not. I haven’t had “internet crush” feelings for him in so long. Nothing physical ever happened between us. No bodily fluids were ever exchanged. Dave has kissed me on the mouth twice, once on the night we met and once the last time we saw each other. Both were quick and with tightly closed lips. He also once kissed me on the forehead, and when he does that to someone, he really cares about them—at least, at that moment.

I do still care about him, and we’re always going to be connected because of our cute little history. I love his band, I’m grateful for the times we’ve hung out and his kindness towards me, and I have no ill will toward his wife. HE INSPIRED MY BOOK. And yes, there are things in the book that came directly from the Foo Fighters-verse, but if you don’t know, you don’t know.

Dave has said some dirty flirty things to me—in emails, texts, and in person—and I flirted right back, but we were never single at the same time and therefore, nothing ever happened. And I don’t regret it at all, especially considering how things have turned out. It makes for a much better story. I promise you, on the heads of my cats, that the “I want to fuck Dave Grohl” ship sailed while Obama was still in office. And now I’m nearly 56 and I don’t want to fuck anyone, so no one has anything to fear from little ol’ me.

The last time I spoke to Dave was in 2009, when he came to Portland with Them Crooked Vultures. We hung out backstage and we kept getting interrupted by people who wanted a picture, so I couldn’t get any real time to ask him something very real. Dave invited me to go back to the hotel bar when the venue closed and we had to leave, but I declined because I was in a relationship with the love of my life (not my ex-husband), who wasn’t a big fan of Dave’s.

So, again, I’m a terrible groupie, because that wasn’t the first time I didn’t go to Dave’s hotel at his invitation. I did give him my number and he texted me once or twice (nothing dirty flirty, the first one was waiting for me when I got home from the show and it said “I wish all of these fucking people weren’t in my room”) but then the world’s busiest rock star got busy and we lost touch. As he would say, it’s Saul Goode.

I also didn’t know he had a third daughter until she was like five, something I’m very proud of. There was a time I would’ve known her birthday, but I still don’t. I do know that his second daughter, Harper, was born the same day as Patton Oswalt’s daughter, Alice, and that Dave and Patton became friendly while waiting out their respective births at the hospital. My worlds collide in weird ways.

I’ve seen Foo Fighters live only twice since then, in 2015 and last August. Dave was happy to see me in the crowd both times, but didn’t send me a backstage pass to hang out like he used to, which was disappointing, but the sun came up the next day just fine.

Aww.

Anyway, I have no idea where he lives and have never tried to find his house on my rare trips to LA, so I’m also really bad at stalking. I haven’t flown anywhere to see a Foo show since I was MARRIED. The last time I saw them outside of Portland was in San Diego in 2004. After that show, Dave was the only one in the band who went back to LA. When we hugged goodbye, he picked me up off the ground and murmured in my ear that he wished he could take me home with him. Instead, he went home with his wife. Then another member of the band invited me to his room and now he hates me because I wouldn’t go. YAY MORE REASONS TO KEEP ME AWAY FROM DAVE, thanks so much.

I do know where Studio 606 is, but only because one of the Foo’s roadies is a Facebook friend and kindly gave me the address last January so I could send Dave a copy of The Sound of Settling. I was told Dave is “aware” of the book, but so far hasn’t reached out. Which is disappointing, but again…whatever.

When the news about his fourth daughter broke, people came to me as if I’m the Grohl Whisperer. “Did you know he cheated on his wife?” they asked. Uh, he’s a rock star, what do you think? This goes back to the things I know, the timeline of when I learned them. No, I wasn’t shocked about the cheating. I was surprised and disappointed that he didn’t protect himself and his family better. I felt bad for Jordyn and their daughters because the whole world knows.

I was glad to see Dave starting to make some public appearances again recently, serving food to LA firefighters and playing drums for “Girlvana” at FireAid. His oldest daughter, Violet, was there to sing “All Apologies,” which seemed somewhat ironic. But my only thought while watching a clip was that their family must be healing, and I was happy for them.

In reading the article about the mother of his fourth daughter, I learned that he was here just a couple of weeks after she was born. He went on tour and played killer shows without Taylor Hawkins and carried that heavy secret on his shoulders. There were comments online about the end of this tour, about how much he was smoking and drinking on stage (red wine). And now we know why.

SO. Right now, maybe things aren’t Saul Goode for the Grohl. The guy needs some good publicity. I’ve been trying to get this story to him for a while, because I’m positive I’m the one who inspired him to write “Times Like These” in 2002 when Foo Fighters were on the verge of breaking up, and then they didn’t break up.

I told this story at Low Bar Chorale on my 53rd birthday, April 26, 2022, barely a month after Taylor Hawkins died and we had no idea if Foo Fighters could go on without him.

I’ve often said that I don’t think I’m right about everything, but when I’m right, I’m super right. I doubt Dave would’ve written a song that sounds like my favorite song if we hadn’t had the conversation we had. I don’t want a billion dollars, but the credit would be nice, at the very least. BECAUSE I AM RIGHT. Probably.

I’m not a monster, I’m not a stalker, I’m not crazy. I’m an untapped goldmine with million-dollar ideas. And Dave needs some redemption, so I hope it’s times like these we finally get back in touch.