Here’s the thing. Love is irrational. Love is complicated. But my rules for marrying someone?
I will not marry you unless you have, at some point in your life:
Been told to REST 2, 3, 4
while worrying about a nose pimple
Been poked in the back
by a clarinet*
to be specific
and whispered “stop”
under your breath
2-3 times a rehearsal
but never to Graham’s face
until one fateful day
on the last day of school
in a moment of great excitement…
And Graham said “what”
And you said “I would like you to please not poke me in the back
with your clarinet”
And Graham said “ok cool I won’t do it ever again… because it’s the last day of school and I’m actually moving to Sacramento so I won’t even be here next year.”
If you don’t know how to play “In the Hall Of The Mountain King*” with your eyes closed, I will not marry you.
*If you don’t know what “In The Hall Of The Mountain King” is, look it up, because… you actually do know it. You just might not know that that’s what it’s called.
It’s the one that’s like: dun dun dun dun dundundun dundundun dundundun dun dun dun dun dundundun dun dun dun dun dun duuuuunnnnnnnnnnn.
Still not jogging your memory?
Incredible because I thought I did a good job with that rendition.
And online articles are such an aural medium!
Anyway, in addition to the rules above, do not expect me to marry you unless you have:
-felt the soft touch of a background bongo drum after being told that “they didn’t need any more keyboardists in your school’s cover Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time”…
-cried over Kelly’s ability (and your inability) to sight-read…
-FIERCELY fought for the right to play “Wake Me Up When September Ends” at the Fall assembly
-anxiety-played your way through Fly Me To The Moon as Nicole (trumpet, back row) spread rumors about how you kissed Zack on the 6th-grade camping trip
-been told that you should maybe look into the Robotics or yearbook team instead of band because even though there’s music in your heart, it’s not really… uh… in your brain?
If you weren’t in middle school band you missed out on a beautiful, formative experience, and I need my marriage to be just as beautiful and formative as learning smile through Nicole telling everyone in the back row that you’re not a late bloomer but actually genetically unable to grow boobs and going to be ugly forever.
Whatever, you stole her keyboard solo and she didn’t get to play at Disney.