mojocaster.com
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I see threads popping up regularly on the topic of "If I weren't married, I'd have more gear." Some of that can be explained by the fact that if you need to support more people with the same income, clearly your disposable funds suffer. Some comes from the fact that people just don't want to fight their SO every time they want to make a new purchase.
Three quick personal anecdotes:
When I met my wife, she came to my place and saw three Gibsons on stands. Two Les Pauls and a Flying V. She asked me if I could play, and I said "Define play"
We met through a mutual friend who worked for a guitar store - he now owns the store.
In other words, she was clearly aware of my infatuation with music in general and gear in particular.
Fast forward a bit, and I find myself having to spend over a year outside of the US while she goes to college here. Upon my return, she came to pick me up at the airport and said, a propos of nothing, "I have a surprise for you."
I supposed she'd bought me chocolates or something... maybe a celebratory six-pack of Gritty's Stout.
We get to her place, and there, under the bed, is a beautiful Fender Tweed case. Inside is a Stevie Ray Vaughan strat - my dream guitar at the time.
I surmised from that occurrence that she was a keeper
Not only did she understand my love of gear, but she knew exactly what gear I was lusting after. Wow, I guess she was listening all those times!
Fast-forward to this past New Year's Eve... we're at a party at a local hotel, and there's a band playing. My wife loves dancing, and I... don't. Anyway, I danced all night with her because 1. she's great, and 2. I love inflicting that kind of visual pain on innocent by-standers
At some point, we'd reached the front of the stage. She looked over at the guitar player who was conspicuously stashed in the back of the stage. He was playing some mean funk riffs - actually, I wish he had been. He was playing "Play that funky music, white boy" along with the rest of the band. It pains me to admit that, but damn if we didn't dance our little hearts out.
Anyway, the band takes a break after that song, and as we are walking back to your table, my wife turns to me and says: "Wasn't the guitar player playing a PRS?"
My wife can recognize a PRS by sight.
Damn.
I realize that this is not some sort of cosmic discovery, or anything. It's not like the Earth is gonna start rotating the other way, but damn...
...my wife rocks.
(And no, she's not over my shoulder as I am typing this)
Three quick personal anecdotes:
When I met my wife, she came to my place and saw three Gibsons on stands. Two Les Pauls and a Flying V. She asked me if I could play, and I said "Define play"
We met through a mutual friend who worked for a guitar store - he now owns the store.
In other words, she was clearly aware of my infatuation with music in general and gear in particular.
Fast forward a bit, and I find myself having to spend over a year outside of the US while she goes to college here. Upon my return, she came to pick me up at the airport and said, a propos of nothing, "I have a surprise for you."
I supposed she'd bought me chocolates or something... maybe a celebratory six-pack of Gritty's Stout.
We get to her place, and there, under the bed, is a beautiful Fender Tweed case. Inside is a Stevie Ray Vaughan strat - my dream guitar at the time.
I surmised from that occurrence that she was a keeper
Not only did she understand my love of gear, but she knew exactly what gear I was lusting after. Wow, I guess she was listening all those times!
Fast-forward to this past New Year's Eve... we're at a party at a local hotel, and there's a band playing. My wife loves dancing, and I... don't. Anyway, I danced all night with her because 1. she's great, and 2. I love inflicting that kind of visual pain on innocent by-standers
At some point, we'd reached the front of the stage. She looked over at the guitar player who was conspicuously stashed in the back of the stage. He was playing some mean funk riffs - actually, I wish he had been. He was playing "Play that funky music, white boy" along with the rest of the band. It pains me to admit that, but damn if we didn't dance our little hearts out.
Anyway, the band takes a break after that song, and as we are walking back to your table, my wife turns to me and says: "Wasn't the guitar player playing a PRS?"
My wife can recognize a PRS by sight.
Damn.
I realize that this is not some sort of cosmic discovery, or anything. It's not like the Earth is gonna start rotating the other way, but damn...
...my wife rocks.
(And no, she's not over my shoulder as I am typing this
)
