Music Makes the World Go Around…

I’ve learned a lot over the years.

A:  if someone “isn’t in to music” – then they are basically a serial killer in disguise.  At the very least, a creepy, stalking PI – actually, that covers the last long term relationship I had.

B:  If someone loves the “Doobie Brothers”; they may be a little dull.  If they’re into those monotonous sounds – then there isn’t a whole world of variation going on there and you can’t live on that one sound forever – that covers husband number 3.

So – as in all things, you don’t have to be twins, but there sure as hell as to be common ground – that would explain my life with the squeeze.

Our favourite is Dylan.  We both love Tom Petty.  We find new loves in sound and share it; revelling in it for a while before moving on to the next.  Mostly, we hit the mark.  Sometimes we miss by a mile.

He has a penchant for Miles Davis and I see some old Looney Tunes cartoon – the one where the wolf is playing in a jazz band at a club…  God knows what the three pigs were doing.  All I can remember is that sound – almost as though these instruments are just playing whatever they want – no rhyme or reason!  Totally random.

He can’t stand Lady Gaga, who I think is fantastic.  Eminem sucks – yet I would adopt him in a heartbeat.  I think I can do just about anything, except country (and that obscure jazz).

He can do just about anything other than hip hop or 80s dance music.

I think the differences are because he listens to the beat… Music.  I have to like the music, but for me, it is all about the lyrics.  What they mean, what someone felt when they wrote it.

Given our combined collection in music is extensive; and our knowledge base is pretty damned good – I’m not sure why he has this weird little song that he sings.  All the time.

“My name is little “blah blah” {you can insert my name here, or the kids, or just about anyone who is standing in the room really}; that’s my name…

And it never stops.

When we first started going out, I was there for breakfast one morning and his oldest son came out for it.  When I went home, the squeeze thought it was highly amusing that he had mentioned to him that perhaps he shouldn’t sing the song in front of me – since he sounded like a dick.

God bless him; he should have known that I already knew he was a dick by then.  Still, it’s wonderful once your kids start lecturing you on how to behave on a date.

On Sunday morning he was singing his little tune and when he went to shower, my daughter made comment along the lines of ‘WTF…?’

I said “that’s good.  It means he feels comfortable with you!”

Her comment was:  “well if that’s what comfort brings, I wish he didn’t.”