Singing Promises I Can’t Make

Dearest Rachel –

Another day, another song pops up in my algorithm that gets under my skin. This time, it was a group that you and I had heard of, at least (albeit not until we were long since together, so it was never a part of our mix tape collection), but a song from an album of theirs that I’d never heard before:

Halfway through the song, I realized that the singer was speaking to someone who had passed away, which dramatically changed the feel of it. Unless it’s happened to you, this doesn’t hit the way it’s probably supposed to – which makes it an odd choice for the group to feature, as pop music is generally geared towards teenagers, who are just starting out in life. Most of them, while possibly having a ‘lost’ love along the way, haven’t lost them that way. Still, I suppose for those who have, it’s a powerful song; it certainly stung me, as I listened to it.

But even before it got to that point, it struck me that it was littered with phrases and expressions that I realized I couldn’t make anymore, and that gave the song something of a pall to it even before it dawned on me as to who it was directed towards. Love songs, to be sure, are almost expected to be full of florid hyperbole about the singer’s feelings toward the object (a word that conveys an attitude that ought to raise a red flag, but let’s ignore it for now for the sake of the expression) of their affection. There’s a lot of ‘always’es and ‘never’s, insistences that one’s emotions are unique and undying. But after so long with you – as well as all this time without – I can’t honestly make these kinds of romantic promises to someone anymore, assuming I ever could. Nothing lasts forever, and for me to say otherwise is dishonest, if not outright deceitful.

All of which seems terribly sad to have to admit, if for no other reason than the fact that what kind of girl is going to be willing to accept that?

***

Now, I wouldn’t blame you for wondering why I would get all bent out of shape over a song that I’d never heard before (especially since it’s been around for a couple of decades at this point). What difference does it make if I can’t mean all the words of a certain song?

Well… funny you should ask that. It so happens that I know a girl who has given indications that she might be interested in karaoke; not saying those exact words, mind you, but the hints are there, including that she’d even be interested in singing with a partner. Now, I’m no Pavarotti, Presley or Post Malone, for that matter, but I think I could hold my own with a track and a microphone. Sure, I’d prefer the Japanese style of karaoke (with just a handful of friends – or even just a couple on a date – in a small, private room) to the Western approach (in front of an actual audience – which I might have a chance to do some time aboard ship this coming spring, now that I think about it), but in either case, it’s something I’ve never tried; it might make for an interesting date experience.

On top of that, if the girl I was with was someone I was truly interested in, what better way to both spend quality time together, as well as say things I couldn’t bring myself to (or, equally likely, someone else has put into words better than I could) directly?

Especially in this day and age; thanks to the magic of AI, I can take almost any song, and with a little bit of tweaking, remove the vocals from it, so I could sing whatever I like. Granted, I don’t know if the establishment make BYOM (bring your own music) provisions, but when there are so many songs out there, and specific ones that say what one really wants to, why not let the customer use the music they really, really want?

All of which sounds very well and good, except… there’s everything I’ve already said about how most music prefers poetry to practicality, hyperbole to honesty. Everything out there has at least a line or two that I literally can’t promise anyone. Even something that’s a little more grounded in reality, like this one…

…well, it still has its problems. Setting aside the fact that Tonio makes the mistake of saying “I thought you belonged to me” (of all people, he should know better, as this same album included the song about belonging “with” him; the difference in prepositions is important), it’s a great expression of frustration at unrequited (or otherwise failing) love… until he gets to the line about how “I’ve never had to walk away from anybody / I wanted as much as I wanted you.”

Honey, I’ve had to walk away from you when you left. I know it wasn’t a voluntary departure on your part; ours wasn’t some kind of acrimonious breakup, but the unfortunate hand of God or fate or whatever you want to blame or credit, but regardless, we couldn’t stay together. And for me to tell someone else that my frustration in getting together with them is even comparable to that? Yeah, I know better; I can’t utter that line, and mean it.

In fact, I’ve realized that, out of sheer necessity, I’ve been without a woman in my life for over a thousand days. It hasn’t been fun, as you’ve no doubt divined, but I can – I have to – do it. All those songs about how “I can’t live without you”? Yeah, all lies. It may be what girls want to hear, but I can’t say it and mean it, because I know better.

It’s strange to think that this might be the most accurate statement about me, when it comes to any other person…

…but it’s hardly romantic, now, is it?

To be sure, I would probably say these things more out of resignation than actual pique. It would take an awful lot for me to get that fed up with anybody, and stomp off. I might say some of those words, but only because, well, I can live without them, because I already have.

Still, I couldn’t expect Megumi to respond like the professor; rather than an exultant “Randy, you’re magnificent,” I’d probably be more likely to meet with a certain level of resignation of her own, a sigh of “well, if that’s how you feel about us,” and walking away herself. Why, for all I know, she might just dispatch me to “Hartford, Hereford or Hampshire” after hearing something like that, even without the (understandably) angry edge Eliza gives it. And she’d probably be well within her rights to do so (although if she were truly ‘Megumi,’ I’d like to think she’d understand – which is one more reason I should probably doubt her existence).

So is that it? Are there no songs that I could sing with this girl (or any other) and actually be able to mean everything I say? Well, how about this one? I think I sent it to you at some point, but I’m sure I could apply it to someone else (and I’d like to think you wouldn’t mind too much, at this point).

“Baby, if you ever go
Could I take it? Maybe so
Ah, but would I like it? No, not much”

Yeah, I dare say that sums up a good relationship; healthy enough to acknowledge that we could get along on our own, but clear in the fact that we would prefer not to have to do that. I think it works just fine.

Now, if only I could find an arrangement of this for a solo voice, as opposed to four-part harmony. The idea of multiple guys singing this to a single girl contains its own unfortunate implications within it, wouldn’t you agree?

Or am I overthinking this whole thing, and I should just grab a microphone and sing?

In either case, honey, keep an eye on me, and wish me luck. It seems I’m going to need it.