"Oh my God, Chris, this is now our song."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"This is our song."
"No. No it's not."
"Yes. Yes it is."
I love having songs with people! Mel and I have "Man in the Mirror," Kate and I have "Mmmmmmm" and my grandfather and I had "I got it bad (and that ain't good.)"
Anyway, last night Chris and I had our usual Sunday night, which means cheap Mexican food, drinks at Dirty Thieves, television at my house and then I fall asleep wherein Chris plays fantasy sports on my laptop and leaves god knows when without locking the door or setting the alarm.
It's more fun than it sounds, I swear.
Sitting at the bar, I noticed an attractive tattooed gentleman scrawling what appeared to be a set list on a cocktail napkin while drinking straight scotch and rolling his own cigarettes. Much to my embarrassment, I was dressed in stuff white people like (Gap jeans, REI fleece, freshly washed hair, etc.) and felt I needed to establish my street cred. So I started nagging Chris to play me that Pogues song I love on the jukebox. Anytime someone went up to that jukebox, I'd be all, "I hope they're playing The Pogues!"
I regard The Pogues as the only band I like that hipster scary music people might also like. I mean, the lead singer has no teeth. And it's basically The Committments Soundtrack, so you know, yay.
Eventually, tattoo scotch guy got up and shoved some scratch in the jukebox, smoked another cigarette and returned to silently work on his cocktail napkin set list. I leaned over to Chris. "See this guy?"
"Oh, the artiste? I bet he has lots of 'feelings'."
"That cocktail napkin could be on the wall of a lesser Hard Rock Cafe one day, Toph."
I was analyzing the music tattoo scotch guy had selected. It was much as you'd expect, very old school country/rock/punk. I'm sure there's a name for this type of obvious tattoo scotch guy music and I'd be delighted to learn all about it over black coffee and viewings of Singles with tattoo scotch guy. He just sat there, silently scribbling and sipping, and maybe I'm being paranoid, but tattoo scotch guy was totally avoiding eye contact.
So he listens to his songs and abruptly gets up, says adios to Matt, the chatty bartender who TOTALLY looks like Jesus and splits.
And with that, The Pogues came on.
Oh my god.
I was tempted to run out on the sidewalk and scream, "I love you too!"
After the song ended, the jukebox went silent. Yep, that was his song. I remain convinced that song was for me. Convinced.
Which is when Chris stood up. "Give me two dollars, I'm sick of this tight-jeans shit."
He took forever selecting his songs, once coming over and flicking my shoulder. "Babe, what's that song you like?"
1. Since when do you call me babe?
2. Fairytale of New York, you idiot.
3. Chris, who would ditch me for a tranny hooker if the bargain was good enough, is an oblivious cock block.
4. He made it up to me with:
Beth: What's this song?
Chris: A song I knew you'd love.
Beth: I love it.
Chris: Yeah, I know.
Then Chris played me Fairytale of New York. Which was very sweet, even if he rolled his eyes the whole time.
So I played Wild Horses.
Jesus Matt was like, "Beth, what's wrong? Wild Horses? You okay? God, anytime someone plays this, which is often, I'm like, oh...of course."
It's a great song. What?