Last Thursday, the husband said he wanted a night out. So we did something very unusual: we were impulsive. We packed the son and some clothes and drove to the city. In the city, we parked the son and some stuff at the parents-in-law and off we were into the night…
All dressed up and, for our age, way too excited, we roam the streets. But not for long. Even though we have no idea where we want to go, it’s just too damn cold to be picky.
“So, here’s a bar, but I have no clue if they offer anything special.”, I say.
“Is it open?”, the husband asks.
“Special enough for me!”
We enter and walk up to the bar.
“One beer.”, the husband orders.
“And I… eh… something with hot chocolate.”
We sit down, but feel a little out of place: everyone is at least double my age. Furthermore, there are only three different people repeatedly singing karaoke songs neither one of us has ever heard before.
“You sing us something!”, the husband suggests, then the man on the microphone starts playing a very noisy harmonica solo (Who brings a harmonica to a bar?). “Though… maybe not here.”, the husband adds and quickly puts on his jacket.
We change to the karaoke bar a little further into the city center.
“One beer.”, the husband orders.
“And I… eh… some sort of a fruity shot.”
Yeah, I know my bar jargon…
I sing three times. There is not much clientele tonight. Well, it’s Thursday, so that’s not really surprising. Then again, one does not have to wait too long to sing again.
I am all sung out and had two more “something fruity”. We change the bar again.
Here, we accidentally meet friends… or well, a guy who is a friend of a friend of the husband or something… but they know each other and he has two other guys with him, so we all sit down together and start introducing ourselves.
The husband gets confused. The other guy has the same name as him, so they both repeatedly scream their name to one another, unaware of the fact that the respectively other is not repeating their name but one’s own… or something like that.
“Yeah, you both have the same name!”, I clarify after I had my laugh.
“And this is my wife.”, the husband says.
“I have a name, too.”, I mentioned, but the guy with the husband’s name doesn’t care. He lost it at “wife”.
“Your wife?! God, you must have done something very right in your former life to deserve her!”
We both smile and they start talking about bands. They quickly realize they don’t have the same taste.
“But my wife enjoys classic rock, too.”, the husband says reconciling.
“Really? So, you’re not only pretty, but you also have a good taste!”, our new friend states.
We start throwing band names at each other.
“You know, there’s no other girl like you. I have to ask this now: where have you been all my life?”
He laughs and winks at the husband: “You lucky bastard!”
I smile. From the speakers Toto’s Rosanna starts playing and the new dude says to me: “Sing with me!” and so I do.
“Damn it, you have a fine voice.”, he admits after our little duet, and to the husband: “I am very sorry, if this is wrong, but you have such a catch here, I mean, have you ever heard her sing, have you looked at your wife lately?!”
He went on for hours and we all had fun. It boosted my self-esteem quite a lot, all that flattery, though sometimes a little naughty, but always honest and funny. The husband felt real flattered, too.
Before we left, I went to the toilet. A woman just came out of one of the stalls and stared at me. Then she spoke to the woman in the other stall:
“Mum, you won’t believe who’s here! The blonde woman who sang so amazingly beautiful at the karaoke bar!”
“Yeah… ehm, yeah, I don’t know you, but thank you for your singing, it was awesome!”
“Well, thank you for the compliment… now, I really would like to wee…”