And All That Jazz

Saturday I decided to go to a bonfire some friends were having. I wanted to get out of the house and decided sitting in the sweltering humidity by a roaring fire seemed as good a way as any to quench my thirst for amusement.

I got a ride from one of the guys who hangs with the group. He likes being seen with me. He makes sure everyone sees us arrive. He likes to leave early so he can yell, "Bye, guys. I've got to take Sarah home!" And then he cranks up his barbershop quartet music as we pull away.

And then he plays it all the way home. I mean seriously. I am a patient girl who loves music, but even I don't want to listen to him sing the baritone part for every quartet song he owns. I shifted into autopilot after the third rendition of Funny Valentine. In the hour and half we spent in his truck coming and going I heard Boyz to Men, Manhatten Transfer, Nylons, The Freshman, with just a smidge of Blues Traveller thrown in at the end for good measure.

"Most girls get tired of this music and want me to turn it off, "he says smiling.
"Oh do they?" I say trying not to laugh.
"You're the only girl I know who can even tolerate Barbershop Quartet," he gushes.
You poor boy, I think to myself. "You must not be running in the right circles." But you are running in circles. "I'm sure there are girls who are into that sort of thing."

He makes a point of smiling at me for a significant period of time. Then bursts into "You'll Never Walk Alone."