She's Warmed Up to My Kind of Music

Oh, I met this girl I swore was close to perfect.
I could see the ring, the dress, and the whole nine yards.
I had a country station on and she reached and turned it.
Said she couldn’t stand the sound of a steel guitar.

Later this year, Wife and I will mark twenty five years together (counting dating and marriage). I’ve posted previously here about her initial cool reception of me. Listening to Ray Scott this morning reminded me of another reason that either (A) it’s a miracle from above that we made it as far as we did or (B) we have ignored all the signs that Providence was giving us and stubbornly pushed ahead anyway.

On our first date-date (date-date meaning that I picked her up at her house, which is in contrast to what we consider as our first date, where we met at a bowling alley, which is a whole ‘nother story about how I almost screwed up big time), I picked her up from her house and we went to a football game for my high school. (We were both high school seniors at the time and attended different schools in towns 20 miles apart.)

Future Wife (FW) and I got along fine on the drive back from her house. I had to tell her that I needed to pick up two of my friends because I was their ride to the game. She took that well, perhaps because I quickly added that they had other rides home and wouldn’t be hanging out with us the entire time, or maybe just because she was committed to making the best of it. I had argued with my friends Dave and David (my three best friends at that time were named Dave, David, and David) that they really needed to find another way to get to the game, but Dave was persistent with his single talking point, which was “But man, you said you’d take us.” And of course David was the most honest when he said, “Besides, we really want to see what kind of girl will go out with you. Does she have big boobs?” As promised, once FW and I picked them up, they were well behaved.

We did, however, listen to a Hank Williams, Jr. cassette tape, because well, that’s just what you did in general, and particularly what me and my friends did. Besides, Hank Jr. was the party music of that time in that part of the country, like it says in that that line from that Tim McGraw song—“Got old Hank cranking way up loud, coolers in the back, tailgates down…”

The football game went fine; nothing memorable happened, which must mean I didn’t say or do anything stupid. After the game, we (it was just the two of us now, Dave and David having met back up with David, who had a truck) headed off to grab a bit to eat. I cranked the car, returned to the soothing sounds of Hank Jr., and she said “Can we not listen to that?”

There was a big sonic boom noise followed by complete silence for about two seconds that seemed like all of eternity as the earth suspended its motion. “Sure,” I said, and popped out the cassette.

Next I said we were going to McDonalds, with no more thought than someone would give to saying they were going to wake up after sleeping. Football game, McDonald’s (the one on Thomas Road; you didn’t want to be going across the river to the one on North 18th, that’s where the Neville kids and the Ouachita kids hung out), Cruise the Loop through Forsythe Park. Dating, Marriage, Babies. Sunday School, Church, Piccadilly. It was just the order of life.

But then she said “Can we go somewhere else? I don’t like McDonalds. They put mustard on their hamburgers. I’d rather go to Wendy’s.” That is when the earth began to spin backwards.

I honestly remember thinking, “Dang it. I was really hoping that I’d get to see her again, but anyone who doesn’t like Hank Jr. and McDonalds, well I don’t know. I don’t think this is going to work out at all. And she was cute, too.”

Nothing else that happened that evening stands out in my memory. Wendy’s must have been fine. And to be honest with you, there really weren’t many people at the McDonalds who liked me in the first place—I had only wanted them to know that I had a girl and a cute one at that.

She has warmed up to my kind of music, and shares some of it. After a Roger Creager/ REK show at Wild Bill’s in Beaumont, she suggested we go to the Waffle House at 1 am. She forgets sometimes who the Reckless Kelly CD’s belong to (me, but she keeps them in her car). She went to the Elmo Buzz show with me at the 3 Crow and she puts up with me scrounging for set lists and getting artist autographs. Grayson Capps autographed his new CD to the two of us together and signed it “Love, Grayson”. And I bought her the Guns-N-Roses CD for Christmas.

I think she still doesn’t cares much for Hank Jr., though.

I guess it all just sort of worked out.



******************************
What I’m Listening To Now: Ray Scott, Crazy Like Me on Rhapsody.
What I’m Reading Now: The Making of a Poem: A Norton Anthology of Poetic Forms.