I was sitting at my desk on Friday, listening to a song on YouTube when the next song in the queue started to play: “Tomorrow Never Comes” by the Zac Brown Band. I’ve heard it before, having seen ZBB in concert multiple times, but never really listened to it. Sure enough, I was playing it on a loop moments later.
It stands to reason that when I left the office to head home, “Tomorrow Never Comes” was loaded up on my phone to play through my speakers. On the drive, somewhere near Exit 4 on I-287, it hit me.
All I kept thinking about was the girl who I took to the ZBB concert this summer. Loading the car up with beer and blankets (to sit on), roasting under the sun while sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, exchanging lyrics to “Senorita” by Justin Timberlake, and most importantly, the incredible time we had there.
I figured the feeling would pass, and it eventually did, so I didn’t read any more into it than I already was.
Then, while making a sandwich in my kitchen yesterday, a different Zac Brown Band song came on my shuffle. Sure enough, the image of her shot straight to the forefront of my brain. There are 18 songs in my iTunes by Zac Brown Band, with more expected to be added. I’m hoping that I don’t think of her anytime I hear one of them, but if I do, it’s my own fault.
A concert is not your typical date, and I didn’t realize that until nearly three months after the fact. I’ve been on countless dates throughout my life, and there haven’t been too many instances where I go somewhere or do something or hear something and my brain automatically re-routes to someone from my past. Music has a way of seeping into your head and setting up shop.
Maybe it’s just the way music affects me, personally. The sound of music — more than any smell, sight, location, or anything else — has always been associated with something or someone to me, however meaningful or meaningless it may be.
I have a tattoo of the bass intro notes to “Get Ready” by The Temptations, because it was the song my uncles came out to when they were in a Motown band. Listening to The Temptations will always transport me back to Rye Playland, where I first fell in love with music (and the Motown sound).
Any time I hear “C’mon N’ Ride It (The Train)” by The Quad City DJ’s, I think back to being in Walt Disney World with my uncle at 7 years old and dancing with two older girls (they were probably in their 20’s, but I couldn’t tell you for sure). At the time, it was one of the best nights of my life.
I will never not cry whenever “My Wish” by Rascal Flatts.
I digress.
The point of this post is to be careful who you take to a concert, because there’s a chance the memory of that person will stick with you. If things end up working out, it’s incredible, because then you’ll have constant reminders of this person you love. Maybe “your song” will be from the band you saw.
The odds are that it won’t work out, and whether it ends in a week, a month, a year, or a decade, you run that chance of hearing an artist you love and thinking of someone who you hurt, someone who hurt you, or just someone you would rather not have associated with an artist you enjoy so much.
I don’t regret going to the concert with her, which I’m now realizing could be the misconstrued given the tone of this post. That concert was the best date I’ve ever been on.
I was “keeping my options open” around the time I was seeing her, but told her at the concert that I didn’t want to see anyone else but her. She wanted to keep things at the current pace, which, looking back, should’ve been more of a warning sign than anything else.
The point of this post is that before you ask just anyone to go to a concert with you, stop and consider the decision. If you’re seeing someone you’re lukewarm about, do you really want to finally see you favorite band only to constantly be reminded of this person who was a pit stop in your life?
I have no idea who will be my next date to a concert, or when that will ever be. I also highly doubt what whomever she ends up being won’t see this post ahead of time. If she ever does beforehand, or if I show it to her sometime down the road, at least she’ll know she’s wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision.
