If you’ve been here longer than a minute, you know it’s no secret how much I love music.
For as long as I can remember, music has been the glue that holds me together, the muse which releases the words trapped in my mind, the outlet through which I can finally BREATHE.
So maybe then it’s not much of a surprise that I’m marrying a musician.
When I met the fantastic Mr. Scotty (which should be his new stage name, don’t you think?) he might have mentioned that he “kinda played guitar.” For the first six months, I never saw a hint of his guitars. I thought it was a hobby, and didn’t think much other than “that’s cool.” So when he told me he was trying out for a band, I was excited for him, but didn’t have any expectations.
Imagine my surprise when I saw his first show and he played Tom Petty’s Mary Jane’s Last Dance AND COMPLETELY KILLED IT.
I stood like a fool with my mouth gaping open. Was it truly possible that I was dating this amazing guitar player on stage?! OH MY GOSH I’M DATING A GUITAR PLAYER!
And that’s how I became a groupie. (No, not THAT kind of groupie. I’m only sleeping with the guitar player, thankyouverymuch.)
Scotty now plays with a different group, and it’s been a wonderful four years of watching him live his dream. The passion on his face as he loses himself in a song is nothing short of breathtaking. And though he’s humble and will brush it off if you tell him so, he truly is an amazingly gifted player.
Some girls might dream about dating a musician, and I was no different. To my credit, I can say I was head over heels in love well before I saw him play for the first time. But it sure is a nice perk to get to go out on the weekends and hear the crowds cheer his name and know he is all mine.