Crazydates

I Jazzed Up My Dating Life…

I often find myself pondering the choices musicians make when selecting their instruments. What drives them to pick up a trumpet or strum an electric guitar? It's a curious thought that often crosses my lonely mind.

Last weekend, as I rode the bus, my curiosity reached new heights when I spotted a charming guy with a double bass. He was utterly adorable, with his unruly curls and nerdy glasses. Struggling with his cumbersome instrument, he stood close to me, flashing a tired yet endearing smile. Carrying a double bass is no easy feat. It's big and unwieldy, especially in the middle of winter when its case resembles a bulky parka, like lugging around a companion who offers no assistance.

I must confess, musicians have always held a special place in my heart. Like many children, I was coerced into piano lessons, a pursuit I loathed. Being a rather unfocused kid, I couldn't be bothered to practice and stick with it. So, when I encounter musically gifted individuals, especially if they're attractive, I'm filled with awe.

Having been single for the past six months, I wasn't actively seeking love. My previous relationship didn't end acrimoniously; it simply fizzled out. However, during that bus ride, my thoughts drifted towards the double bass dude, pondering what he might be like. And in a moment of impulse, when the bus stopped and he struggled to disembark, I sprang to my feet, offering my help, despite it not being my stop. As the bus drove away without me, I found myself standing in the cold, waiting for the next one, questioning my hasty decision.

Regrettably, I now had to endure the chilly wait. Why did I do something so impulsive and reckless? My double bass dude appeared contrite, apologizing profusely. "I'm so sorry. I feel awful that you missed your bus. I'll wait with you until the next one arrives."

"No, it's alright. I'm sure another bus will come soon," I replied, although my knowledge of the schedule was far from certain.

"Hey," he interjected, a glimmer of an idea in his eyes. "Why don't you come to my rehearsal? One of my friends with a car can drive you home afterward. I'm certain it'll be fine, and you might enjoy listening to us play. Please say yes."

I did say yes, and it turned out to be an extraordinary experience. Charles, as I discovered, was the double bass dude's name. He belonged to a jazz quartet and played exceptionally well. I couldn't tear my gaze away from him throughout the two hours of rehearsal, a perpetual smile etched on my face. Undeniably, we shared an undeniable chemistry as well as a love for jazz music.

Now, three years later, Charles and I are happily dating, reveling in our love. It just goes to show that love can unexpectedly present itself in the form of a person lugging a massive double bass on a bus.

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