Crafty Kitty

Three years ago I bought myself a guitar. 

 

I have always wanted to play guitar but I never thought that I would be able to.  It’s not that I’m not good with music – I played the clarinet for 7 years and can also play the piano fairly well – what I’m trying to say is I know how music works what with notes and chords and keys, etc.  But I had tried to teach myself guitar before with not much success.  My Mom had talked my Grandma into letting my brother and I borrow her guitar when we were in high school so we could teach ourselves.  However, my Grandma was known for her Hawaiian guitar playing (what with STEEL strings and a slide and all) so trying to learn on her guitar was like suicide for my poor finger tips.  Needless to say I did not learn how to play much of anything on that puppy.

 

Fast forward a few years.  I met a friend of a friend who had a gorgeous guitar and played really well.  In fact, she played guitar while my friend sang a song to his brother at said brother’s wedding.  I might have developed a girl crush on this friend of a friend (which would have TOTALLY worked in my favor had I wanted to act on it since she was a lesbian and all).  She was totally my inspiration for purchasing a guitar.  I figured if she could do it then I could do it too. 

 

Purchasing a guitar was my incentive for learning.  If I was going to drop a wad of cash on a quality instrument, I damn well better learn it.  After much research and traipsing around to different music stores I settled on this guitar.  And when I first got it I did practice – a lot.  I got callouses, I learned chords, but I never sounded very good and you could never really tell what song I was supposedly playing.  It was discouraging and eventually practicing guitar became low on my list of priorities.  I swear my guitar has been played more by guys that have crushed on me or by guys that I have dated then it actually has by me.

 

Enter the boy.  I knew the boy was for me the second time we hung out after we “hooked up.”  I went over to his house and he was just fiddling around on his guitar when he started playing a recognizable song.  And I just kind of looked at him because it had been this weird secret fantasy that I’d had since the 8th grade that the boy I’d fall for would play this song for me on the guitar without me ever having to ask.  And then he asked if I knew the song and I said, “Of course I do.”  And that song my friends, as cheesy as it is for me to admit that I’d dreaming about it since I was 13, was Julia by The Beatles.

 

The boy knew I had a guitar but also knew that I couldn’t play.  For some time he’d been trying to convince me that he could teach me to play (I believe his hidden motive is that he wants someone to jam with).  I resisted, partly because I know that while I’m learning something I can get really upset if I don’t feel like I’m learning it quick enough and then I tend to get kind of snippy with whoever is trying to teach me.  Ask my Mom how fun it was to teach me how to drive clutch and then you’ll know what I’m talking about.  Finally, after we’d been together for quite some time and the boy knew me and my personality, I agreed to let him teach me.  I was doing awesome for a while.  I was actually able to strum pretty decently and I was well on my way to an awesome rendition of Brown Eyed Girl.  Then the semester started and guitar fell low on my list of priorities again and I wasn’t practicing as much.

 

Enter Sunday morning.  The boy and I had just woken up and ate breakfast and he was messing around on his guitar.  He was telling me about this song he was trying to play on the harmonica (that I got him for Christmas).  He’s not to the point where he can play the guitar and the harmonica together very well so he was all, “If you play the chord part I’ll totally play the harmonica part with you.  So I strummed the 3 chords of the song, which were not too hard, while he played the harmonica and we made beautiful music together.  Then that song got old so we started playing Brown Eyed Girl again.  First I needed a refresher for the chords so he gave me that.  And then we were playing it.  I kind of messed up and was getting frustrated and our conversation went something like this:

 

BOY:

Okay, okay.  That was…good.

ME:

You were playing the lead part too fast and then I was going too fast and it kept messing me up!

BOY:

Calmly

No, no.  I was playing it so you wouldn’t have that break that you get when you switch chords.  There should be no break.

ME:

Getting worked up

You think that I don’t know that there’s NOT supposed to be a break?  I haven’t been practicing!  What do you want from me?

BOY:

Retreating now that he sees me getting worked up

Yes, but I wasn’t trying to speed you up, I was trying to help you.

ME:

FUCK OFF ASSFACE!

 

It was hilarious and the exact reason I didn't want him teaching me in the first place.  I act like a 5 year old when I'm criticized in situations like that.  Except instead of a normal tantrum I cuss like a sailor and feel a desperate need to throw things around the room.  Lucky for me after the initial shock of me calling him an assface wore off, the boy found it just as funny as I did.