Blake was introduced to a band a couple weeks ago and fell in love immediately. Lucky for him they were in town Monday night. He bought tickets for the show early last week and I was a little surprised when he said he had a ticket for me. He usually goes to concerts with his other music-loving friends. Not that I don't love music. It's just that I don't necessarily love Blake's music.
Fast-forward to Monday night. Blake and I drove up to Salt Lake with the intentions of eating before the show. We parked in a questionable part of town by the venue where the band would be performing and started walking to find a place to eat. We walked into the first place we saw and picked out what we wanted to order. Just as we were about to order, the guy behind the counter tells us that everything is vegan and that all the meats and cheeses are fake. Right at that moment my hungry, just getting over the flu stomach became full. After asking what "meat eaters would like," Blake ended up getting a grilled cheese and we both got Italian cream sodas. The bread on his sandwich was good but everything else (including the drinks) were not. We left for the concert carrying our untouched drinks because I didn't want to hurt the feelings of the guy that made them for us. We threw them away in the first garbage can we came across.
I knew the night was getting more interesting when Blake was patted down before we entered the venue. That couldn't be a good sign of what was to come. We walked into the dark, dirty room full of college kids and I felt out of place. We found some stools and sat way back in the corner next to the only couple in their sixties that were attending the show.
The show started forty-five minutes late. The opening act was strange and horrible and the main band was okay. While inhaling second-hand smoke from the rude man standing in front of me, I listened to the lyrics of the songs being performed and watched the sweaty audience mindlessly jump up and down in front of the stage. I compared this scene to the two sweet, innocent girls sleeping at home and realized that I am really happy with my life.
I like how simple my life is. Some may say it's predictable for a girl of my beliefs and situation (get married young, have kids soon after getting married, and stay home without pursuing another profession) but I am happy. I wouldn't want it any other way.
Sure the vegan-eating, concert-going life is for someone but not for me. Basically what I'm trying to say is that I prefer my hair to smell like Thermasilk when I come home from a date with my husband instead of cigarettes. That's all.