I Have No Respect for My Husband
When it comes to music
Coffee is brewing. I scroll through my iPhone for morning pick-me-up music. I find just the right song and, as the first chords play, I smile at my husband. We are about to play a game and he knows it.
“Hey, what’s this song?”
“I’m not playing.” He cringes, “Ok. Ummm. I don’t know. Do they have Stone in their name? Is it Pearl Jam?”
“You’re an embarrassment to our generation!” I throw my hands over my face in exasperation, hand over my sad heart.
90’s rock music is a badge of pride I wear to represent my status as a Gen Xer. One of my first concerts — Pantera. His — Neil Diamond.
I can’t reconcile this. I turn on my heel, coffee and phone in hand. My lack of musical respect for my husband continues.
