“I only date men who play guitar…”

I remember my first love when I was just 16 his name was Josh. He hailed from Texas and had won a battle of the bands competition that allowed him to record an album. I couldn’t even see him play because his concerts were 21 and over. His band was Gone For Good and he always told me that his song, “Highway,” was written for and about me. I bet he told all of his girlfriends that. He was a plumber during the day and ended up taking my virginity. I went from him right into my next musician, Chris, who traveled the country with me living in a tent on national forests. I wrote poetry and he serenaded me by moonlit fire pits in beautiful Oregon. We had a beautiful child and we named him after the Willamette River. I think I wanted my son more than the guy though. He was the first person to truly love me and need me. He gave me a purpose in this wild life. And then I met Eric. We lived in Prescott, AZ and he had the best smile and the coolest blue green eyes. Sang guitar of course. Maybe I was attracted to the art of it. I swooned into the music. The sounds of creation. Anyone that can create something that is new is a type of beautiful magic. I manifested my feelings with words and paint, drawings. They made it with sounds. My next basic named man was Matthew. He had the most gorgeous voice and would play me Jack Johnson songs, whom I had never heard at the time and lie to me that he had wrote them. So I fell hard for this handsome man. This magic trick. Playing music is a feat but writing and playing your own music is the talent. He sold me on a lie. And that lie wasn’t real. If I ever date again maybe I should stay away from musicians?