I love that it takes you an
hour and a half to order a sandwich.
I love that you get a little crinkle
above your nose when you're
looking at me like I'm nuts.
I love that after I spend the day with you,
I can still smell your perfume on my clothes.
And I love that you are the last person
I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night.
So ... almost one year ago, a dozen of us sat at Mario's on Clearlake ... having a discussion that had us laughing so hard that a few at our table were turning blue. I'm ashamed to say we wound up literally clearing the dining room of every other guest. We weren't obnoxious ... but I'm afraid we were rather loud.
In any case, the conversation revolved around the question, "What is our song?" Everyone started out genuinely suggesting love songs ... songs they loved ... songs they thought were romantic. Either Stoney and I would shoot them down ... for one funny reason or another. As the evening wore on, the conversation devolved into suggesting the stupidest, craziest songs we could think of.
We finally called it a night when the restaurant was getting ready to close. The final decision was made that night ... we weren't going to pick a song that way. We were going to let it happen organically.
And so ... the months passed. We had more conversations with friends ... always suggestions ... always without luck. Sometimes we would be driving somewhere and hear a song on the iPod. He tried several times to convince me that MacArthur Park would make a great couple's song. I gave a stirring presentation on why Tesla's "Love Song" was the song ... and while he's "okay" with the song ... he was not okay with it being our song.
Which leads us to tonight. We were laying on top of the bed just stretching out ... making plans for the rest of this week. Our conversations tend to drift ... one topic to another to another. It's one of the things I love about us. We started talking about poop at one point ... and don't ask me how ... it wound up leading to Forrest Gump.
In his best Forrest Gump voice he intoned, "I am not a smart man Jen-nay ... but I know what love is."
I told him, in no uncertain terms, that I was not his Jenny. "Why?" he asked. "She was a whore." I answered. "Okay. If you aren't my Jenny, who are you?" I immediately answered, "Sally." He laughed and said, "So I'm your Harry?" I said, "Well, I am always cold ..." and he started singing "It Had To Be You" ... I joined in. Pretty soon he stopped ... and I kept singing the rest of the song ... cause I'm weird like that.
When I stopped, he said, "That's it ... our song."
And so ... even though I'm cold when it's 71 degrees out ... even though I ask Monty's to cook my sandwich two minutes longer than everyone else ... even though I ask for every pizza I order to be well done ... we have a song.
It had to be you
I wandered around and finally found
The somebody who
Could make me be true
Could make me be blue
Or even be glad
Just to be sad thinking of you
Some others I've seen
Might never be mean
Might never be cross or try to be boss
But they wouldn't do
For nobody else gave me a thrill
With all your faults
I love you still
It had to be you, wonderful you
It had to be you
Harry Connick, Jr. - It Had To Be You
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