Sing, sing a song

Things have been going well on the dating front so far. It's nice having someone hold your hand while you wait in line for your take out order to be called. It's nice having someone run your bath water and then take your dogs for a walk while you relax in a cloud of peaceful bubble bath. My phone is the popular cell in town vibrating more than some other equipment in my drawer. And when Mom looks at me, all she does is smile. Happy day.

But I'm new to all the couple lingo and behaviour. Whenever we go to a BBQ with friends and their girlfriends I now have to help the girls make salads and listen to them complain about being with their boyfriends for seven minutes and not having a ring on the finger yet. Thanks for nothing, Beyoncé ; instead of putting a ring on it why don't you just put a sock in it?

Chris just smiled when I told him about the crazies and said I'm more than welcome to hang with the guys around the fire, drinking beer and talking about football. I could do that. The closest I came to chopping an onion was when I leaned forward to look at Gordon Ramsey's nails while he did it on the television.

And all the questions are just killing me.

"So you guys have a favorite restaurant with a favorite table? And you always get served by your favorite waiter? Isn't it just the best walking into a place and getting recognised by the staff?"

Yes, almost like jail I presume.

"What about your names for each other? I call Steven 'Wonderboy'. Get it? Steven? Stevie Wonder?"

I'm sure 'Wonderboy' wishes he had the power to become deaf and blind. Maybe that would scare you away.

And my favorite:

"What is your song?"

When you don't have an answer to this question, they look at you as though you're at a comic convention and failed to identify Logan as Wolverine. It's like sacrilege.

The problem is that Chris and I have very different taste when it comes to music. When you browse through the Cds in his car you'll find Nirvana, Foo Fighters, RHCP and Pearl Jam. When you shuffle through my iPod you'll be listening to a mixture of Alanis Morissette, The Killers, One Republic, The Frames and Elisa.

Songs aren't just songs to me. Their like friends. The words bring you comfort when you need it most laying on your bed crying as though the world is going to end right that second; sometimes they make you feel happy and crazy and lifts the mood in the room to blazing hot temperatures. They inspire you, they calm you, they speak the words you sometimes cannot find yourself.

When I hear a certain song or two my whole body turns into one big goose bump. Like my first car accident. Fergie's Big girls don't cry was playing when the guy hit me WHAM! on the passenger side skipping the stop sign one Tuesday morning. It's like I told Dan: there wasn't much crying going on. I think the Everybody was kung-fu fighting would've been more appropriate as I haven't seen that much fist pumping since the political riots in the 80's.

Needless to say we still don't have a song. But then again: you're also not suppose to burp or fart or curse in front of each other in the first week of dating so maybe we're doing things differently than the norm. This way life is a little more interesting.