Why You Should Marry A Metalhead

On my honeymoon, I saw Obituary, twice. I followed breakfast in bed with a Warbringer set. I sipped a pina colada in a hot tub while Ensiferum raged about Viking warfare in the background (it was their second set, we caught their first). As a passenger on the 70,000 Tons Of Metal cruise, I immersed myself in all things loud and evil. And I did it all alongside Azara, my wife, a beautiful, brilliant, talented woman...who also happens to be a diehard metalhead.

Before I met Azara, a consistent part of my romantic life was dating non-metal women and hiding my love of the Devil’s music. My girlfriends would make me cover my piercings and tattoos while meeting their families, or refuse to be seen with me in a metal shirt; one of them told me that if we were going to stay together, I needed to stop celebrating Halloween. I suffered through all of this by assuring myself that opposites attract, that relationships were really about self-sacrifice, that I was the freak. Pretty soon, I was considering joining a heavy metal dating site, just so I wouldn't have to be with someone who made me feel less alone than I did when I was single.

Then, I started dating Azara, and everything changed. Her love of witchcraft, horror movies, and King Diamond matched my own, but it was her love for me that made me realize that the things that brought me joy weren’t guilty pleasures. Even more so, the more time I spent with her, the more I realized that being with another metalhead was the best choice I’d ever made. Not only did she love me for me, and enjoyed doing everything I did, but those things that made her metal also made her the kind of person I want to spend the rest of my life with.

Make no mistake, metalheads are people first and foremost, so being a headbanging satanist doesn’t necessarily make someone a catch. But much of what makes people metalheads are the same things that make them great husbands and wives.

In honor of Valentine’s Day, here are some of the reasons that you should seriously consider marrying a metalhead. Because hey, even traditional wedding vows have the word “death” in them.

How many weddings have you been to with the same gauntlet of sighs -- frumpy ceremony, bad speeches, prime rib, bland cake, the Electric fucking Slide. But not with a metalhead involved! Weddings are built on a concept of normality sold to you by florists and jewelers, and with a metalhead SO, normal can burn in Hell. They’ll inject some fire and weirdness into this happiest of all days, adding insane music, awesome decor, weird friends, and truly good food to the mix. And you thought you'd never see your grandma dance to Death Angel!

No one is a metalhead (at least for more than three months) because it’s cool. Metal is never “whatever’s on the radio.” Headbangers are hopelessly completed by the art they adore, and follow it for their sheer love of it. So when a metalhead loves you, they’ll give you every ounce of their emotion, and won’t get caught up in gossip-column ideas of, “Are you a perfect match?” or “Is this my soulmate?” A metalhead makes you their world, because that idea isn’t some big emotional jump for them.

Sometimes, you just have to go with your gut, even if it means losing friends, taking a pay cut, or leaving a city you love. And though you may be acting unfair or irrational on paper, a metalhead will take your side no matter what. They’ve spent their whole lives being told that the other thing they love most in the world is “over”, “dead”, or “stupid”, so they know a thing or two about sticking to their guns when the whole world turns its nose up at them.

When you get home from work furious at your boss, commute, or entire life, it sucks to deal with someone who urges you to “calm down” or “use your indoor voice.” Metalheads love the delicious catharsis of exorcising demons and burning off bad energy, and they understand that sometimes how you feel isn’t a reflection of your whole life. They’ll pour you a shot, call your boss a dickhead, and let you vent your spleen as hard as you need to.

Metalheads are rarely pandered or marketed to (though some companies have tried), and they prefer it that way. They know that life isn’t a fairy tale; often, that’s what led them to metal in the first place. As such, when you don’t give them exactly what they want -- when you make them spend their weekend with your parents, say, or ask them to politely tolerate your more obnoxious friends -- they’ll take it and get it over with. Sure, they might complain later, but that’s the whole point of heavy metal: you go through Hell, you come out bloodied yet unbowed, and then you cut loose in the pit.

Rose petals, whipped cream, and champagne are what we’ve been told is sexy, but honestly, that shit is all cliche and kind of unpleasant. You know what’s sexy? Tattoos. Whiskey. Leather. Sweat. Growling, clawing, scratching, screaming sex that isn't all that different from a mosh pit. Anyone who's any good in bed knows that evil, bestial stuff is what’s really hot, and no one champions that quite like a metalhead. The radio rock listener brings a blindfold and feather duster; the Slayer fan brings a collar and handcuffs. Live deliciously.

Do you really want to spend the rest of your life listening to Imagine Dragons? Fuck that noise! You want the shadowy atmosphere of The Atlas Moth, the unholy might of Carpathian Forest, and the sweet, dulcet tones of Internal Bleeding. Marry a metalhead and fill your life with loud, weird, cool, beautiful music that most other people on earth are too typical to appreciate. Only love is real.

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