The Billy Joel song "For the Longest Time" came on today. As I listened to it, I realized that I hadn't heard that song for the longest time. I then wondered if I should be embarrassed to admit that I like Billy Joel's music. That's not something to be ashamed of, is it? Or, since I grew up in a quiet neighborhood in a nice town, am I only supposed to like Eminem? A poseur I am not. I hate Eminem. Except, of course, if I want you to think I'm cool. Then I'll tell you that he's a genius and that I saw 8 Mile six times.
But the question remains, should I be embarrassed about liking Billy Joel's music? Certainly it can't be as bad as admitting that I loved the Bangles, especially their song "Walk Like an Egyptian," which is hands down the best song ever written. Did I just admit I loved the Bangles? Maybe. But I'll just say this: I am not embarrassed to admit my love for the Bangles singer, Susanna Hoffs. She is flat out hot.
Susanna, I loved you then and I love you now. Is this burning an eternal flame? Maybe. I should probably see a doctor about it. But enough about me, Susanna. This is about you and, well, about your restraining order. It's not necessary. Did I mention that I wrote you a song? If you let me sing it to you, you'll know how much I love you. It's called "I Love You A Really Really Lot Because You're Really Really Hot." That's all there is. It's a short song.
Susanna, I loved you then and I love you now. Is this burning an eternal flame? Maybe. I should probably see a doctor about it. But enough about me, Susanna. This is about you and, well, about your restraining order. It's not necessary. Did I mention that I wrote you a song? If you let me sing it to you, you'll know how much I love you. It's called "I Love You A Really Really Lot Because You're Really Really Hot." That's all there is. It's a short song.
Anyhoo, so there I was, listening to Billy Joel's "For the Longest Time," and I was struck by the part that goes "Who knows how much further we'll go on / Maybe I'll be sorry when you're gone / I'll take my chances, I forgot how nice romance is / I haven't been there for the longest time."
Listening to these lyrics, my first thought was, "Wow, he rhymed 'chances' with 'romance is.'" My second thought was, "I sure hope a bird doesn't land on my head today." I worry about that a lot. How am I supposed to react to a bird landing on my head? Especially in public? Am I supposed to swat it away and make a fool of myself in the process? Or do I pretend that I don't really care that there's a bird on my head and go about my business? And if a bird did land on my head, I wonder how long it would stay there? All day? I certainly hope not. I think I could handle five minutes all right. That seems like a reasonable amount of time.
But after thinking about birds landing on my head, my next thought was "Am I willing to take chances for nice romances?" (Pretty sweet how I rhymed that, huh?) If the risk involves a high probability of being bludgeoned, I'd say no. Been there, done that, and I'm not a sucker for pain. But how can I gauge the probabilities of bludgeoning? Maybe it's not possible. Maybe no two people can gauge the probabilities at first. Maybe, as the relationship goes forward, it's a matter of somehow proving to each other that you can trust each other, that you can satisfy each other's basic relationship needs, maybe not all at once, but at least that you can move in that direction.
There are songs about loving someone so much that you'd die for them. I'll let you in on a little secret. Dying for someone is easy. It takes no talent. Living for someone, on the other hand, requires a lifetime of work, and that, to me, is love.
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