Mister Cupcake and I have many, many, MOST things in common---the least of which is the (almost) exact same hideous and relatively tragic Mother Relationship. We both suffered our share of Large Meanness and this turned us both into extra nice people who make our way in the world by trying to add the slightest amount of balm to any kind of awful we see. If one were a psychologist one would say we are People Pleasers.
Except sometimes we have a difficult time doling out The Pleasing to each other. 98.4% of the time we are two peas in a pod. Working together and problem solving like nobody's business. Being all considerate and enlightened and Hey You Know I Think I'm a Better Person Because I Am With You and not taking your fucked up freako mood personally and, you know, just---a TEAM---makin' the world a better place. Being the best people we can be apart from each other but together. Being LOVE in action.
UNTIL, during the evening hour, when I insist on listening to Jackson Browne.
And then Mister Cupcake reveals his true hatred toward what the real meaning of matrimony is and he decides that he is not sure if he wants to be wed to a woman who crumbles into a pile of sobs upon hearing Fountain Of Sorrow and I finally get in touch with my Big Truth that has been gnawing at me for some time and that is that only a bad person would not appreciate the woeful way the profound lyrics of Late For the Sky are sung. I've never known another to be such an a-hole, we think.
And come to think of it I miss listening to Jackson Browne ALL THE TIME AND BEING REALLY HAPPY, I think.
And after some negotiation and explaining and reluctant laughter and exasperated accusation and Holier Than Thou posturing and What About Husker Du, huh? and semi-seething broo-haha it is decided that perhaps we will engage in a Friday Night Jackson Browne Concert wherein Mister Cupcake settles in and listens to Cupcake's stories around Jackson Browne and even considers learning a Jackson Browne song so he might serenade her or a crowd with one and we make a plan for Mister Cupcake to plan his Social Distortion Concert NEXT Friday.
Which brings me to my point and my conclusion:
WITHOUT COMPROMISE AND UNDERSTANDING YOU'RE COMPLETELY FUCKED.
Peace be with you,
Deidre Drive-a-Hard Bargain Doubterstein