Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Love Songs and an Honest Man
Darn Brad Paisley! I don't even like most country music, but I like his. Still, I contend that he is doing the world more harm than good with his special brand of love song.
While listening to "The Mona Lisa" on the way home from one of the kids' activities, I asked my husband, "Do you feel like the frame that gets to hold the Mona Lisa?"
As soon as he paused, I knew I was not going to get what I wanted from that question.
"Uh, I don't know....what does that mean?"
"It's in this song by Brad Paisley. Haven't you heard it?"
Of course he'd heard it. The man, not raised in the south as I was and certainly not born in Dixie, loves his country music nonetheless.
"Yeah, but I haven't really listened to the lyrics. I don't know if it's good or bad."
"It's good, obviously!" I cried. "The Mona Lisa? One of the most beautiful paintings in the world?"
"Okay, but I don't know the lyrics."
"Really? Really? Humph." I crossed my arms, disgusted.
"Mama, I feel like the frame that gets to hold the Mona Lisa," my eldest boy said in sympathy and some fear.
"Thank you, Berto. I'm glad at least you do." I threw a dirty look at my man. "Even he knows it's a good thing."
Of course I should know better. My husband is completely lacking in the ability to dissemble for the mere sake of romance, to whisper sweet nothings. I know that's a good thing. I know. But there are just a few times when I wish he'd talk pretty to me like some hero in an Austen or Bronte novel. Or like a Brad Paisley song.
Way back when our relationship was a long distance one, and I found out he loved that old song The Letter (not the original version but the cover by Joe Cocker, to which I had introduced him), my mom suggested that it probably reminded him of me, and how sweet and romantic! I should have wandered down the primrose path of that suggestion like a lovesick fool, but I decided to ask him about it.
"My mom said you like that song, because it reminds you of us - does it?"
"No, not really," was his immediate reply. "I just like the song."
Once we were engaged I asked him what his favorite feature of mine was. I didn't know. He'd never said, and I'd gotten the suggestion that I should know from some frou-frou ladies' magazine. Poor guy! He'd had a long day at work and probably wanted to say "breasts" or "fanny" but felt he couldn't get away with it, so he remained mute.
I began peppering him with questions, "Is it my silky hair? My cute little ears? My eyes?"
Okay, I've always known I didn't have a single outstanding feature - unless it's the deep purple hollows under my eyes, my eyebrows completely lacking in arch, or my crooked and prominent nose. You kind of have to lump the imperfections together to end up with something surprisingly presentable, but I didn't expect his answer to my query to be, "Well, sometimes you wear pretty eye makeup..."
Oh yeah, he did say that. And I'll never forget the warm and fuzzy urge I felt to hit him over the head with my makeup bag.
I heard another Brad Paisley song recently. It has a beautiful chorus:
To the world/
You may be just another girl/
But to me/
Baby, you are the world!
You can bet I will not be asking Matthew if I'm his world. He would likely say, "You're part of my world. At least Arizona. And maybe a sliver of Texas."
As for that whole Mona Lisa misunderstanding, my husband actually listened to the lyrics and later texted me this:
I am the frame that gets to hold the Mona Lisa, and I don't care if that's all I ever do. ;)
I texted back: That's all I wanted to hear.
And I tried to ignore the wink at the end.