I ran to the kitchen to fix us some snacks and when I came back to my room, I found him sitting on the edge of my bed playing my guitar. I stood in the doorway for a second, watching him. He clearly had some chops.
At first, I smiled. "Wow, I didn't know you could play guitar. That's great." But, he didn't stop. He started singing.
And, that's when it got weird for me.
It was like John Mayer possessed his body or something. He closed his eyes and started hittin' some high notes. When he finally opened his peepers, he tried to make meaningful eye contact with me while he was singing.
I don't expect him to know this since it's only our third date, but I HATE when people look at me when they're singing. It makes me self-conscious: Should I return this meaningful gaze? Should I sway back and forth with a lighter in the air? Should I burst into tears like that little girl who met Sanjaya? He just turned my cozy bedroom into open mic night at the Peach Pit.
I feel like this is something he saw in a movie as a slick move to "seal the deal." Speaking of movies, I'd totally smash this guitar to put an end to this impromptu serenade like John Belushi did in Animal House except that it's my guitar and, yeah, I'm not gonna do that.
Honestly, I'd prefer it if he'd leave the singer/songwriter act for the buskers in the park. Just leaf through a magazine and wait for me to come back with another round of beers. Is that so hard?