Music Boner Syndrome: Part Deux

Then there was the day I saw my now-husband performing at “the jinx”.  Nice name, huh?  I was hammered after drinking all day with friends.  When I walked in it looked like a light was illuminating only him, and nothing else stood out.  It was like everyone else was in slow motion and dim.  Now, this was the SECOND I saw him.  I immediately realized I was going to marry this stranger, and I told my friends.  I acted a lot like Snooki back then, so my friends just laughed it off and thought I was retarded.  I sat at the bar with them as we ordered more unnecessary poison, and I practically drooled watching him do his thing.  He wasn’t unusually sexy to the average eye, but to me he was.  To the regular person, they saw a tall, lanky, Jesus-like figure bouncing around on stage in his 70’s grey Nike shirt and crappy little boy pants. He was playing on children’s keyboards separated by shoe boxes.  Things were kept together with duct tape.  He was singing in a falsetto about crapping his pants.  His image was not exactly screaming SEX!!  It didn’t matter what the lyrics were with this music, it was giving me a raging music boner and I was about to explode the whole show.  I grabbed all my girlfriends and made them dance right under his nose at the front of the stage.  I asked him to sign my tits, all we had to use for that was a neon green magic marker.  If you have ever tried to write on boobs with a magic marker, you know that it slides around too much, and the felt tip is too fat so any words just end up looking like a poorly drawn cloud.  He later told me that he had never had a large group of girls act so impressed with him at a show.  I sprinkled my love for him all over the ladies like glitter dust, but I quickly dusted it off when anyone started to get too close to him.  This skinny Jesus was MINE, bitches.

After drunkenly struggling to explain where I lived so that he could come back to my apartment and pork me, I left without him, barely standing up straight and past out in my bed.  I guess I left the door unlocked to my ghetto-street facing apt. door, and he helped himself in after getting proper directions from a friend.  I have never been so thankful that a drunk friend of mine irresponsibly trusted a stranger who may rape and kill me, and told him where to go.  If she hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be married to him and we wouldn’t have two adorable kids right now.  Like a gentleman, he slept on the futon.  I was completely unaware that he was in my place, because I had already fallen fast asleep.  In the morning, I initially did not know who he was.  I sat up and looked at a strange man and thought to myself, “holy fuck! who the fuck! what the fuck! where the fuck!” until it slowly came back into my memory.  He seemed weird and not how I remembered him.  He had a cold expression on his face.  He stood stiff and ridgid.  He demanded I give him an “ass rub” out of nowhere, because he said he threw out his back.  He unbuttoned his pants, slid them down and got on my bed.  I was freaked the fuck out.  I wanted him out, but I was excited that I had a funny story to tell my friends.  I gave him the rub, while he called a friend and mocked me.  He was acting like SUCH a dick.  I just kept thinking, “you idiot!  see what happens?  just stop falling for music guys, they are all retarded off stage.”  After the thoroughly awkward ass rub ended, he demanded I run him a bath and give him bath bubbles.  So I did.  While he was in the bath, I picked up my apartment and tried to hide sharp objects because I was worried that he was mentally unstable.  After he got out, we began small talking.  Which led to long talking.  Which led to jokes.  Which led to me telling him my life story, and him telling me his.  Hours went by like seconds.  I had never laughed so hard with anyone else in my life.  He was incredible, awesome, funny, smart, AND he was a musical genius.  I realized after we got talking that I was right the night before, he WAS the one!  We tried to play it off like we were just very flirty friends as he left my apartment to get back on his music tour.  He kissed me on the cheek, and I told him, “don’t worry, we will see each other again.”  We kept in touch over the phone in that flirty friend way for the next few weeks.  On the third week, he confessed to me that he “had the hots for me”.  I told him I did for him too.  A day later, I proposed to him.  A week later, we got married.  Now we have an adorable family.  We are poor as fuck.  We disagree a lot.  Things are shitty often.  But we have never stopped being totally in love with one another, which makes me so happy.  He can piss me off so bad, but once I calm down, I realize how perfect for each other we are and I open back up to him.  He does the same.  I cannot tell you how comforting it is to be with someone who never doubts his love for me.  He has to put up with me, once a month, doubting my love for him.  That makes me feel so silly and shitty and selfish when I really think about it.  I am really lucky and I hope I never truly fuck up this precious relationship.

Now that I have made you all puke, clean up the vomit off your chin and attempt to have yourself a nice day!

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5 thoughts on “Music Boner Syndrome: Part Deux

  1. I love this story! It reminds me of the “If you give a mouse a cookie” books. If you give a musician an ass rub, he’ll want to take a bath. If you give a musician a bath, he’ll want bubbles. While you are looking for the bubbles……LOL

    • funny you say that, because he reminds me of a mouse and he loves cookies. and i love that book. as well as the “give a pig a pancake” book. wow, i am not coming off like a dorky mom or anything, right?

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