Jazz Hands at Dinner

So, Richy has drawn a line in the sand, and unfortunately I have crossed it… with Musicals.

He has mentioned before that he hated Cats (The Broadway show, not the animal), but I just thought furries weren’t his thing and left it at that. I did notice that he abruptly left the room on urgent business when I played Mama Mia! but I chalked that up to a busy schedule. I mean it’s not like he’s ever asked to watch my copy of Moulin Rouge either, but maybe watching Nicole Kidman in lingerie is unsettling. He might be avoiding all that upset. You never know what drives a person, so I didn’t really think much about him avoiding every musical I’ve ever wanted to play including Grease, Phantom of the Opera, and Sweeny Todd. Maybe epic dance numbers aren’t his thing, but I never realized his pure hatred of this type of cinematic experience until he told me “NO.”

Let me explain. This man has never really told me no about anything. I mean, we will discuss things and compromise and generally we come to some satisfactory conclusion to anything we run across. Also, he knows if he tells me “no” on anything right out of the bucket, I’ll do it or die trying. As a general rule though, “No” is not something I am used to hearing. Until I tried to play The Greatest Showman during dinner. I have to say, that the emphatic, half pleading request to not inflict this movie on him sort of melted my heart a little. I mean how often do you hear a man who has fought in war, been shot, stabbed, and snake bitten plead “no” like a child about to be spanked? The look in his eyes was part sheer terror and part desperate begging. You could tell he was kind of resigned to his fate as he saw the movie pop up on the screen. He looked at the TV screen and looked at me; then he looked back at the television and I saw a part of his soul leave his body and escape through the window.

I have to admit, there was this little moment where I realized I had this phenominal cosmic power. My absolute control over this man’s day. I could force a musical on him or grant him amnesty and let him watch something involving guns and explosions. Yes, I was drunk with power for a split second. I  suddenly understood the terrible yet awesome way I could wield a singing Hugh Jackman at this man, and much like David taking down the mighty Goliath, I could fell this man with one swing of a chorus line if I chose to. The power was intoxicating.

But, I am a merciful lord, and after the surge of power finished coursing through my veins, I took a deep breath and granted him a reprieve. So instead of watching The Greatest Showman, we dined over Battlestar Galactica and too much wine.

Alas, Hugh Jackman did not get the chance to sing me through my dinner, but I did get to see some space battles and hot Cylons, so overall, dinner was a success, and no hard feelings, but I now know where the entertainment line is drawn. For Richy, musicals are that line. He will watch romantic comedies, he will watch sitcoms, he will even watch The Simpsons with me if I ask him to. Richy however, will not watch musicals. I can ask for any other genre, but musicals are off limits. In this, the season of giving, I suppose I will be kind and give him the gift that never stops giving - every season of Glee ever made. Muwahahahaha!

Author’s note: As Richy was editing this I was informed that he does not hate ALL musicals. He doesn’t mind Moulin Rouge, Phantom, and Grease. Now you all know - he doesn’t hate them all. (Somehow this revelation is funnier to me than the sheer terror I saw at the mention of a musical for dinner).