One Good Apple

I don't know if it is because of my history of failed marriages and broken relationships, but these days I check out men much like I might inspect fruit at the local farmer's market. Take, for example, the inspection of an apple. I inspect the outside to make sure it's aesthetically pleasing. I do what I can to make sure all the inward parts - the heart and soul of the apple - are sweet and mature. I take stock of the entire fruit as a whole to make sure it's a good value before I add it to my shopping cart. Then, even as I proceed to check out, my eye stays on the apple as I ponder whether or not I am making a decent investment for myself.

"It's not just that it tastes good?" I ask myself. "Is it also good for me?"

After careful, almost FDA-like inspection, I've determined that Vin is pretty good fruit. On the outside there aren't any damaged or soft spots. He is nice-looking, age appropriate, and dresses in neat and classic attire. Vin possesses a degree in engineering, an MBA, and a law degree. He has a good job at a Biotech firm. Welding is among his favorite hobbies. Vin works on my car. He's passionate about Latin music and dancing. He's athletic and has practiced martial arts for the last 20 years. Vin talks openly with me about his past, politics, sex, religion. A live-and let-live kind of person, similar to me, Vin and I have not yet argued. Vin doesn't take longer than I do to get ready in the mornings. And, he doesn't need to use any of my hair products.

Really, what more can a girl ask for? I thought I was getting one great apple, but instead, I have a delightful tropical fruit salad in this man. In other words, he's a little bit of everything, and then some.

But... there is alwasy a but, isn't there? Just like finding the proverbial worm in the apple, I have discovered a negative attribute in Vin.

He loves 80s music.

I'm not just saying that Vin likes 80s music. He is like an ape with bananas in his obsession for it. When he works on any project at my home, Vin sings bad 80s songs at the top of his lungs. I am subjected to a never-ending array of songs by Air Supply, Chicago, and the dreaded REO Speedwagon. It is almost unbearable, not because he sings bad (He was actually in a chorus), but because I hate the songs.

Vin practically had an orgasm when he saw my CD collections, which among other things includes greatest hits compilations by Madonna, Pat Benatar, Kool and the Gang, Lionel Richie, Prince, and Michael Jackson.

"Oh my, God. You have Madonna!!!" Vin exclaimed. Before he broke out into his very own rendition of Vogue, Vin was distracted by two Don Henley CDs. I thought Vin was going to have a heart attack right on the spot.

"Tell you what, honey." I said in an effort to move on to more important matters. "Why not just take my whole CD case home with you."

"Really? Are you sure?" Vin asked, looking like a boy in a candy store.

"Most definitely," I replied. "Now, would you mind if we ran to the hardware store? I really need you to change this light fixture out for me. You did bring your tools today, didn't you?"

He had brought his tool kit. Vin spent the rest of his Saturday afternoon working on a "honey-dew" list I had prepared for him. Eighties music or not, worm or no worm, any way you slice this fruit, he comes across very, very sweet.

Having discussed this whole 80s thing with Vin and agreeing to an REO Speedwagon-free zone, I've decided that in the grand scheme of things, I will be able tolerate Vin's obsession with 80s music. I guess even with the best of fruit salads, sometimes you just have to pick out the one thing that doesn't appeal to your taste.