[Pass The Mic]  Non-Negotiables

Christi Vivar

by Andi Agnew
March 18, 2009

I once knew a girl who would never date a guy who didn’t wear good shoes. Where many women first look at a guy’s smile, eyes or physique, my friend had to check out his feet. I suppose shoes can be a good indicator of what a guy is like: Dirty shoes might mean he is a hard worker, or it could just mean he is not very clean. Out-of-style shoes might mean he is a dork, or maybe he just needs a good woman to steer him into the 21st century. I can’t fault my friend for being so picky, because everyone has their “thingԗthat non-negotiable deal-breaking item when it comes to dating.

Like my friend, many people would list a physical attribute as a non-negotiable. Hairy back? Nope. Comb-over? No way. But for me, the physical has never been as important as the musical. Throughout my dating career, my primary requirement has been that the guy shares my affinity for music. He doesn’t necessarily have to play an instrument, although that definitely increases his chances. As long as he loves music as much as I do, that is usually enough. Music is such an integral part of my life that I need to be with someone who feels the same way or at least understands why it is so important to me. So, like my friend with the shoes, I have used music over the years as a measure of dating potential.

One of the first guys I dated definitely had an appreciation for music. He was a DJ in college; so was I. He could name just about every artist that came on the radio, just like me. I knew he was right for me when he knew that “Green Eyed Lady” was by Sugarloaf. Nobody knows that. He was the first guy I made a mixtape for, an act that I thought would seal our fate.

Unfortunately, he broke up with me a month or so later.

My love for music dictates a large portion of how I spend my time. I love to listen to and discover music. I love to go to concerts, and I have been known to travel far and wide to see my favorite bands. I don’t typically go out to clubs unless there is a good band playing. I spend a good bit of money on music, musical instruments and accoutrements. My CD collection is slowly taking over my apartment.

Since I was a little girl, I always wanted a “music room” in my house—a room filled with every kind of musical instrument imaginable. I sing, play a little guitar and keyboard, and of course, I write about music. So my partner in life needs to be prepared for all of that.

I dated someone a few years later who not only loved to listen to music for hours on end, but he was also learning the harmonica and liked to sing. On top of all that, he had no problem making a last-minute road trip to see Dave Matthews Band or whomever I wanted to see at the moment. He wrote songs with another friend who played guitar, and they taught me a few things as I was just learning to play the guitar at the time. He also helped broaden my musical horizons by introducing me to bluegrass, which I had avoided like the plague until that point. Now it is still one of my favorite genres.

Sadly, our relationship was also short-lived, mainly because he had what I like to call “Peter Pan Syndrome.” Aside from his unwillingness to grow up, however, there was a much more serious problem. Early in our relationship, he told me that he was not a fan of R.E.M.—not because he thought they were pretentious or over-the-top, but because Michael Stipe is gay. What a completely stupid, homophobic reason to not like a band! Why didn’t I break up with him right then and there? Youth and stupidity are my only excuses.

Now I am with a man who is hopefully the last stop for me on the dating line. I pretty much knew he was the one for me when I found Beck and the Flaming Lips back-to-back in his CD case. We don’t have to like exactly the same things, though. He tolerates my love for Donovan and other ’60s folk rockers, and I put up with his affection for Creed’s first album. He plays guitar, has a couple of music-related degrees, and on top of all that, he says that in his future home, he wants a music room, filled with every kind of musical instrument under the sun.

I think he’s a keeper.

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