So long, sad songs

I am folding laundry one hot and humid Saturday, listening to the radio to add some spice to this humdrum chore. My dashing litigator is out getting the car washed and making the weekly run to Trader Joe's, and Duncan is out on the balcony, keeping a watchful eye on a pair of grey squirrels who are flirting on top of the neighbor's fence.

I am just pulling a load of warm, dark clothes from the dryer, when I hear the beginnings of "I am so Ordinary" by Paula Cole. It is a song I haven't heard in ages. Instantly, I am back in French class, freshman year of college, crushing on Shawn Zimmerman - the blond haired blue-eyed hockey player from Canada. Totally adorable and totally taken. I used to play that song on repeat in my dorm room and sing along with my whole aching heart.

"I watched you lean across the table, I watched you whisper in her ear...and she is your holy Mary, and I am so ordinary...!"

A year later, I found myself crushing on someone new. My dance partner, Don. He was tall and handsome with curly black hair, hugely talented, straight - and, oh yes - impossibly taken. My soundtrack for this unrequited romance was set to the tune of "But Not For Me", as sung by Linda Ronstadt.

"...with love to lead the way, I've found more clouds of grey, than any Russian play..."

In high school, I was hugely infatuated with the Broadway musical Les Miserables, an epic three-hour-long homage to heartache. Eponine, the street rat who falls in love with the charming and oh-so-out-of-her-league Marius - was my heroine. I would close my bedroom door, turn off all the lights and belt "On My Own" to an audience of stuffed animals and glow in the dark sticker stars. "I love him, but only on my own." Oh, and that one was for Tom Hanton - the drum major and football player with Garth Brooks looks who played fast and loose with my young heart on more than one occasion. And when I was feeling particularly angry and jilted by these boys, I would drive around town in my red Ford Escort, windows down, permed curls flying, scream-singing "Precious Things" by Tori Amos.

"Those beautiful boys, those Christian boys...so you can make me come, that doesn't make you Jesus..."

But hidden in the melancholy of each melody, I found such delicious solace. This music lifted me, soothing my sad and longing heart. These women (for it was only the female vocalists who truly 'got me') had been there. It was as if they were saying, "Girlfriend, I know how you're feeling...so you just sing along and let it all out...that's right...good girl."

But these days (if you'll pardon the cliche), I'm singing a different tune.

I've found that I haven't had much need for those sad songs in nearly two years. These days, my life track sounds a bit more sunny.

As we make our Saturday breakfasts and he scrambles eggs, I nuzzle his neck and croon "Close to You" by the Carpenters. "Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near?"

We take a road trip to St. Louis and Keith Urban's "Better Life" is our companion. "Someday baby, you and I are gonna be the ones...good luck's gonna shine..."

While driving to the beach, Duncan in the back, Luce sings, "Buy a Dog" and we smile at each other and squeeze hands. "So if you wanna try, we'll make it you and I. We'll never be alone, we'll buy a dog and bring him home..."

My mental mix tape is filled with saccharine ditties and Pollyanna pop. Life is sweet and the notes sound sweeter. I'm "Walking on Sunshine". I have a man who makes me feel like a "Natural Woman", and when I think about him, "I Touch Myself".

There was a time when I found happy love songs to be boring and blah. After all, it was far more tortuous and dramatic to be lovelorn. But since I have crossed over to the sunny side of the street, I now understand the giddy heart-zinging pleasure of a love song and its' ability to convey all those mushy emotions you are feeling, but perhaps can't adequately articulate. That is the reason I love musical theatre so much. Because there exist moments that are so powerful and filled with so much passion and feeling that words simply aren't enough. You gotta sing it.

But what of those old sad songs that I loved so well? Those 'been there' ballads that saw me through dateless Prom nights, un-returned phone calls, and the 'I just like you as a friend' blues? They'll still be there. But when I hear them today it's with a grateful ear. Remembering those bleak and lonely periods of my life only fills me with more gratitude and appreciation for what I have now.

And I have a lot. I have a love that I never knew existed. A level of comfort and intimacy so exquisitely beautiful that I am forever in awe that this is really happening. This is mine.

Quite simply, there aren't enough love songs in the world to convey what he means to me. But you better believe this reformed Pollyanna is going to listen to every damn one of them, complete with sickening hearts over my starry eyes and fluttery feet that won't touch the ground.