Duped and betray’d
I love OmegaDad dearly. We have been together (OmegaMom pauses, counts on her fingers and toes, and continues) 14 years. We’ve known–since the very start–that we Belong Together.
True wuv. Ain’t it wonderful?
But I have discovered something extremely disturbing recently. Something that made me pause, and wonder if we really, truly Belong Together. It has shaken my world to its core.
While driving back from Big City last night, we were listening to a rerun from Kasey Kasem’s Top 40 Countdown from 1974, a blast from the past indeedy-o.
We were up to, oh, number 16. The song started.
OmegaDad started singing along with it.
(Now, OmegaDad couldn’t carry a tune if you held a gun to his head, or to my head, or our dotter’s head, and said that the trigger would be pulled if he didn’t sing in tune. I’ve known this from the beginning. It was, actually, directly contrary to my early musings about how any man I decided to marry must be able to play a musical instrument, sing in tune, and be able to take me dancing. I think OmegaDad might be able to haltingly blow out a ditty on a saxophone; there was a period in his early teens when he took it up for about a year. But aside from that, my deeply held beliefs on musicality and rhythm were knocked asunder by the Tide Of Love which swept over me when we met. Bah.)
Those of my readers who are of a "certain age" will understand my shock and horror when I realized…
…forgive me, I must take a moment to regain composure here…
…OmegaDad knew…Every. Single. Word…
…to The Carpenters’ "I Won’t Last A Day Without You."
Puh-leeze. Oh, my eyes were rolling. Especially since he was soulfully gazing at me (and not at the road, dammit), putting his hand on my knee (and not on the steering wheel, dammit), and crooning, "I can take all the madness the world has to give, but I won’t last a day without you".
Gak! My good lord, the syrupy sweetness! The pap of the bubble-gum pop!
He also knew all the words to Olivia Newton John’s "Please Mister, Please". (I have to admit, I knew them, too. I called it Newton-John’s "country period". He claimed the song didn’t get airtime on country music stations. A few minutes later, KK said it made it to number 4 on the country charts. Hah.)
He did not know all the words to Three Dog Night’s "The Show Must Go On". In fact, he claimed he didn’t recognize it at all. I, on the other hand, did know the words to that song. All of them.
This is the difference between a woman of city beatnik heritage and a man who was raised in small-town Oklahoma.
I don’t know if I can go on living with these shattered illusions. My life is blighted. How can I sleep every night next to a guy who knows the words to Carpenters’ songs??? Who knows what other twisted personality traits he has been hiding all these years??? Who…who, I ask…is this stranger in bed beside me???
posted in Music, OmegaDad | 10 Comments
Strappy black shoes with heels. I felt like I was introducing an innocent to something like crack. Or like a traitor to feminism and battling the patriarchy. Additionally, I felt like a dreadfully wussy woman, to cave to the dotter’s pleas for these shoes, no others. But, dayum, they did look mighty cute.

