I realised some things about myself that night: A) When they say lapsed Catholic, oh Lord, I have lapsed; and B) While most women are drawn back to a man’s flat with promises of champagne, or drugs, or sex, the sure-fire way to get me over the threshold is karaoke.
Yeah, I said it – and I’m not proud. Do men like karaoke? I very much doubt it.
How could they? Let’s suspend the bit about being too drunk, too shouty, too pitchy (who am I? An X Factor judge?) and downright foolish and for now, just focus on song choice.
In this modern age, potential suitors look to playlists the way we used to use bookcases. A quick scan of titles tells you a lot about your new friend. Is he progressive? Adventurous? Is he stuck in a bygone decade? Is he broad-minded, with a collection spanning genres or is he narrow in his tastes (and if so, do you like those tastes?)? If you’re me, you even try to deduce political leanings (danger, reader: don’t be like me. This one can go horribly wrong, especially when you insist on pressing the issue). For example:
Easter suitor: Do you like country?
Me: Meh. Do you have Dixie Chicks?
Easter suitor (Reverently): Fuck no.
Me: Are you a Republican?
Easter suitor: Yes.
Me: Silent for a minute (note: room is grateful for a minute). Well, that’s ridiculous.
Easter suitor: Maybe, but I just got Apple TV to work.
Me: Let’s play Devil Went Down to Georgia then and call it even.
You see? These types of conversations will get you nowhere, unless you count somewhere as showing people just how a doe-si-doe should be done. (Why do they make American children learn square dancing in grade school anyway?)
The thing about karaoke is that it highlights the worst of your playlist – your most populist leanings, your guilty pleasures, your self belief in your own vocal range (Reference Jolene or What’s Up? by those notorious 4 Non Blondes.) Is this an important side of you to be seen? Eventually. On the first night of a potentially blossoming relationship? Hmmm…
And worse than NOT liking the playlist is the potential for liking it too much. Ah, limerence, that deceiving stage in a relationship where every little sign says ‘this is the one.’ ‘He likes a mean Old Fashioned, too!’ ‘He takes his coffee black!’ ‘He likes film.’ ‘Finally, I met someone who knows I Want It That Way by the Backstreet Boys is a decent and romantic jam!’ (Though really, does anyone know what ‘That Way’ is?! Why doesn’t he want to hear her say it?!)
No matter – I think I’ve made myself clear. Karaoke cannot possibly attract men.
Or can it?
Because what men do like, or what I pray (reverently) that they like, is a woman who can have fun, not take herself too seriously, shake her ass and showcase a bit of a scream. Especially when she’s cold kicking it to Welcome to the Jungle. For example.
And for the record, Easter suitor asked for my number, though I will consider carefully before accepting a date with a Republican, even when he describes himself as ‘fiscal.’