BPIML (Brad Paisley Is My Life)

It was Saturday night, January 6, 2010, and my boy and I were driving back from a Brad Paisley concert. (I'd gotten him the tickets for Christmas.) The mood was light as we talked about how close we'd been to BP when he came down from the stage and stood right by our section (I was sure he'd looked right at me), and Jordan was talking about how much he wished he'd gotten BP's cowboy hat.

He then continued on to say that if he had, by some strange miracle, snagged the hat, he would wear it all the time and never take it off. This comment I found to be a little strange, especially since I've never actually seen Jordan wearing a cowboy hat, but I chose to go with it and move on.

We were driving in his truck, with the windows down and the radio on, which happened to be playing a BP song every five minutes. Maybe it was coincidence, maybe I'm exaggerating, or maybe it was because he was in town doing a concert. Either way, every time a song came on, we would start all over again talking about how great of a guitar player he is and how cool sitting in the second row was, etc.

By the time we finally pulled outside my apartment, it was late, so Jordan just stopped right outside my door, and we began to wind down the conversation, the radio still playing quietly in the background.

I didn't see my roommate's Jeep parked anywhere and commented that I supposed she wasn't home yet and had probably just stayed the night at her boyfriend's, since he lived in the city, and it would be annoying to have to drive all the way back to our apt so late at night.

"But," I said, "that just means she has to get up at, like, six in the morning to get to work on time."

"That sucks," he said. "Not worth it to me."

"What's not?" I asked.

"Havin' to git up early ain't worth stayin' the night." He turned and looked at me. Actually, a more apt description might be stared me down. I was beginning to be self-conscious at to what he was implying.

"Oh..." I said slowly. "Well, I mean don't you think--"

Then he did one of those throat clearing scoffs, the kind that shows utter disdain. "I wouldn't git up at six o'clock in the mornin' for anythang." He stopped. Then a slight smile creased his right dimple. "Well, 'cept fishin'."

At that exact moment, I mean exact moment, good ole BP started singing the beginning strains of the song that would prove how serious my fishin' lovin' boyfriend was. A song called "I'm Gonna Miss Her."

The first verse and chorus lyrics below:

V1: Well I love her
But I love to fish
I spend all day out on this lake
And hell is all I catch
Today she met me at the door
Said I would have to choose
If I hit that fishin' hole today
She'd be packin' all her things
And she'd be gone by noon

Ch: Well I'm gonna miss her
When I get home
But right now I'm on this lakeshore
And I'm sittin' in the sun
I'm sure it'll hit me
When I walk through that door tonight
That I'm gonna miss her
Oh, lookie there, I've got a bite

Both of us burst out laughing. How perfect. How ironic. How horribly true.

Lesson Learned: When you date a boy born and raised in Oklahoma, be prepared. Apparently he won't get up early for anything...except fishing.

BPIML