One issue Steve and I haven’t yet found a compromise to is music before/during bedtime. My compromise is slapping a pair of earphones on him, his compromise is turning down the volume when I moan about it, only to turn it right back up when he thinks I’ve forgotten. I haven’t.
In fact, that is the reason I’m awake right now. I hate hearing music before I drift off to sleep. Every song reminds me I’m still awake, until it’s every sentence and every note that nags me that precious moments are ticking away that I’m not asleep. I lie still on the bed, watching out the window. Tonight, I watched our neighbor’s porch light burn out, and I was jealous that even a 60 Watt bulb found rest when I still haven’t.
But it’s not all bad: Steve’s music has created a soundtrack to my life. As Steve’s musical tastes change, so do my chapters. When I first dated Steve in 2002, it was Newfound Glory and Jimmy Eat World. When we dated the second time, it was Death Cab for Cutie, Jack Johnson, Angels & Airwaves and Ben Folds. When we lived in Illinois, it was Cold War Kids, the Decemberists, Damien Rice. Now it’s Lil’ Wayne, the Fray, One Republic.
I lay in bed tonight listening to the soundtrack from “Last Kiss,” wanting to turn it off while Steve snored, but afraid to wake him. He has changed something in me. He has turned the iciest part of me to slush. Where I used to not care at all, I care a little. And where we haven’t yet found compromise, I insert that “yet” because I know we will.
“Compromise, if not the spice of life, is its solidity. It is what makes nations great and marriages happy.”