Last night at the Garlic Festival in Delray Beach, Brandon paid special attention to the musical acts scheduled for the main stage. Many were cover bands, mostly of classic rock (which is just Brandon's thing), but the one that caught his eye was the one and only Buddy Guy.
I say that like I know who this is, but I really don't. Although Brandon did get out the guitar encyclopedia that I got him for Christmas to prove to me that Buddy Guy really is somebody. So now I believe him. Still, I can't find it within me to care.
And yet, tonight I found myself back at the Garlic Festival, this time not watching a hot dog eating contest, but instead standing for two hours in a crowd of people in front of the main stage on which Buddy Guy was performing. The music wasn't bad, but it's simply not my kind of music; and I was pretty bored for the majority of those two hours.
But during those same two hours, Brandon was really happy. He enjoyed every minute of it, in fact, singing along and moving to the music. And as much as I wanted to be anywhere else (or at least somewhere closer to the beer tents), it occurred to me that I was just doing what any decent wife would do.
Brandon and I both have many of our own interests, and we both have lives outside of this relationship. But a lot of times, I'd rather be with him doing something I don't particularly enjoy than have to spend time without him. I mean, we already spend the majority of our lives apart.
So I let Brandon have his fun. And as Buddy Guy played on the main stage, I occupied myself thinking of all the ways I could get Brandon to make this up to me. Because, you know, that's just what any decent husband would do!
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