There’s nothing wrong with having out-of-date musical tastes. In full disclosure, most of my favorite musicians were born before my parents. Still, there is something to be said for having interests beyond fifty-year-old rock stars.
Melissa and I met in college. She worked at the college library and seem to be quite intelligent. She read a lot, and talked a lot about reading. Yes, obviously there is more to intellect than that, but then again, it isn’t like I have an IQ test on ready at all times. So a girl who actually bothers to read, and bothers to read more than Danielle Steel, seems like a good bet for at least a passively interesting conversation. Not always so, as Melissa taught me.
Melissa and I started dating and things seemed very good at first. She was funny and a fair bit more outgoing than I, which is a good thing. As a more reserved person I need someone who can step it up to pull me out of my cave. She was also short, cute, and perky–the killer three for men, and a disgusting three for other women.
Still, all good things must come to and end, right? With Melissa and I it began one night while at dinner. The restaurant, as many do, was playing its background music way too loud. This normally gives me a headache, and depending on the artist it can migrate to migraine, but they were playing some good 80’s Madonna. I’m no Madonna nut, or even much of a fan, but I will give her some credit for being listenable. And that was when it happened. That was when she said those words I will never forget.
“I love Madonna! She’s my favorite artist!”
See, there’s nothing wrong with liking Madonna. There’s nothing wrong with liking tofu. There is, however, something wrong with either being your favorite. How could tofu possibly be your favorite food as long as chocolate exists? It can’t–that’s the correct answer! Same with Madonna. Sure, stick her on your iPod play list and groove to her at the gym, but don’t list her as your favorite musician on your MySpace page. I assure you that men will pass you right over.
To be fair, Madonna was not the end, but the beginning of the end. Once your image of someone has been so shattered (remember, she must be smart–she reads) it can never be repaired. With Melissa I started to notice other faults as easily as I had once noticed her assets. She was a Tim McGraw fan. Tim McGraw is to country music what
But the curtain pullback didn’t end there. Oh no. I learned soon that Daddy Daycare was one of her favorite films. Yes, the Eddie Murphy film. Nothing against Eddie, as Trading Places would have been an acceptable choice–even Shrek. Still, the biggest revelation was yet to come. The book lover who I thought I could love? Turned out to be a book lover, with the emphasis on the “a.” Yes, she really only read one book–over and over again. This book also so happened to share the same name as her (keep in mind that as with all stories, Melissa’s name has been changed).
How does one react to such revelations? Did I think she was shallow? Probably to some degree, but I knew she wasn’t a bad person. Instead, I just realized she wasn’t an incredibly bright one, or at least not in the way I perceived intelligence. She was funny, nice, and completely boring to talk to–a fun first date, but with little potential for growth (as they’ll tell you on CNBC). We’ll chalk it up under the “Okay to Judge a Book By Its Cover Rule.”