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By Alphonse Submitted by ardimino Date: 2007 Oct 19 Comment on this Work [[2007.10.19.09.26.27233]] |
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I sit here and listen to Coldplay. I never even liked Coldplay. One day we were driving on a weekend trip to Toronto. We had just started dating. We were at that learning stage when you try to get to know one another. Music is always a comfortable and safe topic. She asked me if I liked Coldplay. I never listened to them or wanted too. They were one of those bands that you loved or hated. I remember when they were real popular and I couldn’t stand them just because of that. I never even gave the music a fighting chance. So she starts to tell me about a song I would probably like because it was a slow acoustic song. I was interested in not only the song but understanding what she liked, what moved her. So she played “Green Eyes”. We both have green eyes so I thought it was cool and awesome of her. I liked the song and the lyrics. We listened to some of songs and I was surprised how much I enjoyed the music. As time went on, I listened to them more. I read the lyrics. I could relate to a lot of songs. Songs about loss, breakups, politics, and love. Some of my favorite songs are “Warning Sign, Sparks, and Fix you. For some reason I liked the sad breakup or lost love songs the most. I appreciated the songs. I was happy that they didn’t relate to me. When we broke up, those were the songs that invaded my thoughts all the time. Invading my thoughts right at this moment. Isn’t it ironic that this gift of music this person gave me is the very music that makes me feel great anguish? Love does this to people. The person who influences you most in your life should be a person you talk to. A person you may love. A person you’re intimate with. Don’t you think that you should be able to look at this person everyday and thank them for how much they have shaped your life? Isn’t it ironic that I barley speak to this person anymore? I dress different now. I like my clothes. I like how I look in them. The funny thing is she bought most of them or helped me pick them out. I feel guilty wearing them now. I don’t even like to shop anymore because I now buy clothes that I know she would like. Isn’t that ironic? I now buy all these expensive face washes, soap, face creams, and lotions. I never did that before her. Now every time I wash my face I think of her. Isn’t that ironic? I never knew what a duvet was before her. I bought one the other day. It is 600 thread count Egyptian cotton. She was all about the high thread count. I could have cared less before her. I basically slept on sand paper. So to go into the nice duvet I also bought this really nice down comforter. I never owned one of those before her. Now every time I lay in my bed, I think of her and thread count. Isn’t that funny? Isn’t that Ironic? So I never knew how to drive stick shift. I drove a big SUV when I met her. She had a nice VW Passat 5 speed. I thought it was cool that she drove stick. She couldn’t believe I didn’t know how to drive stick. To be honest, I thought I would never learn. It seemed so complicated. She kept on telling me that I have to learn to drive her car because she was sick of driving all the time. I’ll never forget the first time I tried. I was so nervous I thought I was going to puke. I had sweat pouring off my forehead. She was laughing her ass off. I would stall. I would peel out. I would stall. I would peel out. This went on for weeks. Then one day I said to myself “This is ridiculous, it can’t be this hard!” At the time we lived near this real big parking lot. So I took the car and told her in 15 minutes I’ll be able to this the car. It took me about 3 minutes to figure out how to get into first gear. After that I was golden. Wouldn’t you know, after we broke up I bought that car from her. I drive the very car I learned to drive stick in. Her car. Now every time I sit down in MY car, all I think about is her. It makes me sad actually. I’ll never drive an automatic again. Ironic isn’t it? Like I said, love is ironic. My love is ironic. I could probably go on for another hour but the Coldplay album is almost over and I need to get to bed and lay in my 600 tread count duvet. Thread count. Goodnight. |