I got my hair cut the other day. (No, I don’t think that’s newsworthy, though I do tend to forget until I’ve been in ponytails for weeks on end.) As my stylist was washing my hair, she said, “Oh, I hate this song!” I didn’t recognize it and couldn’t make out the lyrics over the general hair salon din. I asked what the problem was. To sum up, she didn’t like that the sentiments expressed in the song made her marriage appear lame in comparison.
I didn’t know what to say at first. I understand her point to a degree, but I also know that love songs are just love songs and most of them set the bar at lofty heights that are purt near impossible to maintain (I’ve got a few years on the girl).
Finally, I told her not to listen too hard to those songs. Just like we can’t try to look like the models in fashion magazines (the retouching is rampant!), we can’t try to make our lives fit into romantic notions set to popular music.
Anyway, I much prefer the goofy, humdrum moments of love, like our trip to the grocery store today. Pete playfully announced that he would no longer submit himself to the whole wheat tortillas I’ve been attempting to force on the family. We compromised on whole wheat pasta. We giggled and teased each other and it was a really nice moment.
And I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be a hit love song.