A group of women were chatting about a guy we all know. He seemed like the perfect man, by his own accounts. He claims to cook gourmet meals, has mastered housework and child care as a single parent with shared custody, has a ton of money from extensive education and a prosperous career, respects women. What more could we ask?
Well, I asked if he can dance and he reluctantly admitted that, no, he has never bothered to learn to dance.
Everyone left the discussion, bitterly disappointed. The search continues.
I know it sounds crazy, but my father was a rock musician when I was a kid. My sisters and I loved to go watch his band perform. He had a band with a lead guitarist, a drummer, a singer, and my father played the electric organ. That band never made “the big time” but they were a very popular band for private parties; they had “gigs” every single Friday and Saturday night, and an occasional “gig” on other special occasions too. Whenever a new pop song hit the charts, my father would run out and buy the record and bring it home and make my sisters and I listen to the song over and over and over again to write down the lyrics for him, while he would listen to the music and try to figure out how to play it. I cannot tell you how quickly we got sick of listening to “American Pie!”
