Falling In Love With Someone Who Doesn’t Love Music
Or: Why I Stopped Dating Musicians.
I’m 20 years old. I show up to the tiny, extremely not-up-to-code coffee shop I work at as a barista wearing a Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt.
The other barista is a very cute tall blonde boy who has been shyly hitting on me ever since I started working a few weeks ago. When I walk in today, he perks up.
“Name five Red Hot Chili Peppers songs,” he commands with a game grin on his face. He clearly thinks I am going to find this charming.
What I should say is: “I read Anthony Kiedis’ autobiography when I was barely out of elementary school and you can go to hell.”
Instead, I name ten Red Hot Chili Peppers songs.
***
I’m 21 years old. I’m hanging out with my good friend who works as an intern on Capitol Hill. He invites one of his summer intern buddies over to drink beer and watch grunge music videos with us.
I am full of music facts, especially when I get tipsy. “Did you know Kurt Cobain had scoliosis?” I say.
The intern buddy perks up. Apparently, he is also full of music facts, except none of his facts are true. “Actually, Nirvana and Guns N’ Roses were big fans of each other. Big fans.” I lean…
