love and music

We met on a popular dating site that we choose not to plug. I liked James's beard and his strong jaw and how he talked with such evident joy about his dog, Maggie. He thought I was pretty and smart and maybe a little heavy on the social justice warrior, but he liked me. Our first date I almost canceled because I did NOT feel up to doing the dishes. I did them and James arrived. His voice was great, he got the door, we went to the Rhythm Room and saw a pretty remarkable band; neither of us can remember them with any detail though, we were so enamored of each other.

The next time James came by, he brought a guitar. I readied myself for an awkward interlude in which I would smile enthusiastically and then query him about his musical training, transitioning to something with less cringe potential, something less vulnerable and risky, asap. I needn't have worried because in that one song, James revealed that he was someone I would be lucky to love. On our previous date, we talked about our dads, both passed, and how we missed them and what they taught us. I told him about how my dad used to sing Seven Spanish Angels, best known by Ray Charles and Willie Nelson. That morning as he played and sang it to me, I saw that he listened carefully when we talked and that he cared about what moved me. He learned that song in one day, played it for me, and put the guitar away. Thats when I knew he would be someone significant to me (I cried, natch)