“The Date” That Pushed Me Into Epiphany

Years ago, a childhood friend of mine decided he wanted to fix me up with his doctor friends.

He called me a bunch of times always prepared with the hard sell of why I should date a particular colleague of his. After hearing all the vague stats like the car he drove, where he went to medical school and other fluff, I would inevitably ask about the guy’s taste in music. My friend’s inevitable response (spoken with irritation): “I don’t know. That’s not important. You can ask him when he calls you tonight. I already gave him your number.”

At the time, I believed that two people needed to know and like the same music to get along.  It helps, but I’ve learned there’s more to it than that.

When I first spoke with this doctor, it didn’t seem fair or polite to talk only about music with him (I’m not nearly as gracious now). So, I justified scheduling a date to get more information about his music sensibilities. And, since he came highly recommended, how bad could the date be?

This was the last time I let this friend or any others set me up with a “music unknown.”

Our one conversation had me believing that this man was fairly cool and interested in music, after briefly hearing about his affinity for 80’s rock bands (later to learn he meant Def Leppard and Bon Jovi, not The Jam or The Cure). I figured I’d let him fill in the rest of his music preferences during the walk in the park we’d planned to take. Only, I didn’t need the walk to get the picture. The moment we met and I walked into his apartment I got it.

Everything about this guy was slick, from the black lacquered furniture with gold beveled edges to his hair. I scanned the shimmery apartment and shaggy carpets hoping to spot anything resembling unique character. The apartment was decorated like bad corporate housing. I suspected I was doomed to an afternoon of boredom. My date didn’t let me down.

As the date continued, I probed him to talk more about music, but I guess we’d already covered that base. While I do remember his bad style, I can’t remember one interesting thing he said to me that day. His personality matched his taste in music. It was completely one-dimensional.

I excused myself from the date as fast as I could. I spent the entire drive home muttering to myself that I’d never again be set up by a friend, nor would I go on another date, without first getting (and paying attention to) the complete music picture.

As much as this date sucked, it caused my first epiphany confirming that music defines personality and should determine my dating decisions.

The day after this date, I started my research project, blandly titled for the next long while, “my music theory.”

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One Comment

  1. Posted October 10, 2006 at 2:28 pm | Permalink

    *heh heh* I don’t think I have every herd that story before, but it’s excellent. I can see why it would push you into thinking “Ooookay, turns out you CAN judge a CD by it’s album art.” kind of moment.

    Def Leppard and Bon Jovi… *hehehehehe* Oh man. I mean, you know, couldn’t he at least have said Guns N’ Roses?

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