Then, one day, I did. I still remember how she looked on that very first day: her slender neck, the curves of her body, the way I was mesmerized by her deep blue... varnish.
Okay, okay. For those who don't know, Jeanne is my guitar. She is an inanimate object. I am not romantically attracted to her, nor do I anticipate becoming so in the future. But honestly, she is the best companion anyone could ask for, for a multitude of reasons.
Firstly, we share common interests. For example, both of us are interested in music, don't respond well to extreme heat, and won't move around much unless prompted by an external force. Jeanne also happens to want to jam whenever I want to jam, which is pretty rare to find in another person. She's always available and never hides from me-- I can't say the same of some of my friends, or my now deceased cat.
Secondly, Jeanne is very easy to get along with. She is quiet and never complains, even when I accidentally smash her against a chair or bump her into a mic stand. I've honestly never met someone who is so tolerant of my clumsiness, yet still so willing to be seen with me in public. On the flip side, she's also one of the only presences I feel completely comfortable around when I practice music, even when I know I don't sound my best. Indeed, you could say we are quite the dynamic duo.
Jeanne also gives me outstanding amounts of confidence. Have you ever seen a guitarist perform without their guitar? Let me tell you, it's one of the awkwardest things you could witness. The stripped musician stands there clearly wanting to die, not sure whether to grip a mic or robotically clap in an effort occupy themselves. With Jeanne, though, I never perform alone. She has been with me through sound mishaps, botched lyrics, and every stage mess-up possible. They say we get closer to our friends through shared experiences and struggles-- and as for me and Jeanne, there have been too many to count.
Finally, Jeanne is a memento of a particular stage in my life. When I decided to pick up guitar, it was for a lot of reasons, which included, but were not limited to, my guitar-playing crush, the rise of Taylor Swift, and a Japanese anime that featured a high school rock band. Nonetheless, whatever that reason was, it gave me an extraordinary sense of purpose, and for the first time in my life, I had a real, long-term desire for something. Because of Jeanne, I saved every dollar I got for over a year, scrubbing the floor of my bathroom and resisting the urge to spend any money I had on immediately satisfying, but non-Jeanne related things. I also began learning some basic skills on an old guitar to prove to my parents that I was, as a movie protagonist would say, "serious about her."
After finally carrying Jeanne out of Guitar Center in triumph, this trend carried into my mission to teach myself how to play. I don't remember much from those early years anymore, except for the fact that I was very clueless and very bad (as evidenced by my still close-to-zero knowledge of music theory). But Jeanne stuck with me through it all, and when I see her now, I remember a bit of what it was like to want something so genuinely. I remember what it was like to get excited over something as little as learning a new chord. I remember what it was like to grow.
Some people think it's weird that I've named my guitar, or that I am so protective of her (though to be honest, it used to be a lot worse-- I'd tear up if someone got a fingerprint on her body). But if they felt the connection that flows through us, and knew all that we've been through together, I think they'd understand. Some people are dog-lovers. Others find solace in growing plants, or amassing an antique doll collection. I'm not that different. I just have Jeanne.
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