Reasons I Love My Man, #378

I once lived with an opera student. In fact I lived with her twice, though the second time she was no longer an opera student. In fact at one stage of the first living together experience, we had another opera student on the premises. Anyway. Opera students. And me. They could sing. I couldn't. I quite like singing, though, although I do it very, very badly. You'd think, as someone who has taken manymany music lessons over her life, including violin, I'd have some clue as to what the notes were supposed to sound like. But no. I don't even know when I'm off-key. No, wait, I do, I'm always off-key, so it's a pretty good bet that if I'm singing, I'm off-key. So I do know.

Anyway, living with these opera students, lovely as they were - well, are - well, one of them anyway - did some fairly severe damage to my singing confidence. This is probably not altogether a bad thing; it's good that I should be aware that my singing is deeply crap, and should not be inflicted on an unsuspecting public, or indeed, anyone. They were quite nice about it. It was just moments like, when I warbled (let's say) a Christmas carol imbued with tons of festive cheer, and as the high notes died away, lovely flatmate said reflectively: "Not bad... a little flat on the B." Huh? I was singing a B? Who knew? This introduced a measure of self-consciousness to my singing.

Which brings me to my point. Because I left that opera-filled abode, lovely as it was (it really was, I miss it; remember how lovely that flat was, my faraway friends?) to live with Beloved Consort. That meant me plus my Dr Demento tapes. And Bombalurina. And Chess. And so on. That meant me banging around in the kitchen, in this tinytiny little bachelor flat, singing. And he loved it. He actually enjoyed me singing. Even when 'wailing' would be a more fitting description. Even Poisoning Pigeons in the Park. Even when I didn't know the words.

And he still does.

Reader, I married him, and now you know why.

(Note: no, I'm not singing now, I'm in an office, and Beloved Consort isn't anywhere around. I was just reminded of this by something I read. Remembering it made me happy.)