Marriage is Compromise. Words we all say and nod emphatically to, until we are actually faced with it. Compromise. The dirty word. Because no one REALLY wants to compromise.
Music is something that I thought The Beard and I agreed on while we were dating. We had Journey, Jay-Z and BSB singalongs in the car, and he'd give me approving nods & grins when my ipod shuffled to Reel Big Fish or Arcade Fire.
Once we got married, we spent a lot more time driving around in the car. It quickly became apparent that the common ground we thought we had in the musical arena was skinnier than we thought. The Beard only wanted to listen to country and sad hipster crap folk music. I wanted to listen to a wide variety of pop, alt rock and techno - aka "GARBAGE" to The Beard.
We had legitimate fights over Bob Dylan and Lady Gaga. Like real, hurt feelings fights. Do I think that Lady Gaga is a musical genius and her art is the voice of our generation? Absolutely not. She's a crazy person and terribly autotuned. Do I reserve the right to listen to her when I want to get all pumped up and crunk for the party I'm headed to? YESSSSSSSSS. I super do.
On the other hand, do I absolutely HAVE to listen to raspy, untalented alcoholic white men cry-sing breakup lyrics over metallic-y acoustic guitar like some emo hipster in high waisted cords and vintage floral grandma sweaters? Please, no. PLEASENOOOOO.
It was a dark time in Holdaway History. Enter Sirius XM.
We no longer argue Joshua James v. Jessie J.
We listen to 80s on 8 and The Beard turns into Prince reincarnate.
We listen to 90s on 9 and do all the moves to "Bye, Bye, Bye." You guys still know them too.
We hold hands and skip into the sunset because we never have to fight over music again.
We got 99 problems but our tunes ain't one.