Welcome to the thirtieth installment of “You’ll Never Believe…”
For those that don’t know what these new featurettes will be about, here is the scoop! “You’ll Never Believe…” will feature the weirdest questions or encounters that authors have been asked/had. Might be about their books or random things, like meetings in a bathroom where someone asked what brand of toilet paper they normally use. Fun stuff and inside scoops that an author would not normally share.
Today’s “You’ll Never Believe…” celebrates the release of Sandra Lake’s latest book “The Warlord’s Wife (A Sons of the North Romance)”. This one made me blush!!! As I bet the author’s sister and all of their neighbors were blushing too… *blush*
You’ll Never Believe…by Sandra Lake
Watching a comedian on Fallon last night, I took offence to thirty-eight as ‘getting old’. I don’t know what kind of crack he’s been smoking but I don’t feel a lick different than I did in high school, smarter yes, but not old—all be it with one exception. Recently I noticed music ‘outs’ my age.
Last summer, my husband and I arrived late to a backyard BBQ; everyone was outside grooving to top-forty, having a good time around the pool. As we approached, the host, our dear old, rat-fink, friend, (I’ll call him Judas), decided it would be a great joke to cut the popular dance music and blast the song “Roxanne” by The Police, securing the attention of everyone present. People called out to turn Katy Perry back on.
“I know how this song does it for you, Sandy. This one’s for you,” Judas said, in a jolly drunk delivery. I proceeded to blush so hot, that I gave myself instant sunburn.
Judas, holding a beer bottle in one hand, flings his arm over my husband’s shoulder and proceeds to entertain his partygoers with a little story. “So you guys might not know this but my good buddy here (my husband) is Sting’s number one fan.” I promptly jumped into the pool hoping to hide from the upcoming story.
You see, my husband and I are average Sting fans at best. What we used to be was lazy about changing the CD in our bedside alarm. I got married at twenty, my husband twenty-two, and we lived in this tiny, cheap, upper floor duplex with paper-thin walls. Our landlady lived below us and I had been naively generous in offering my younger sister the spare bedroom… are you following along? Young, newly weds should be banded from living in a ten block radius of other people. Unbeknownst to us, no amount of “Roxanne” can conceal what’s going on behind closed door. The same “Roxanne” story, different details, has been told before by several friends.
Back to the pool party – coming up from under the water, I heard Judas say, “And so I come by to pick him up for hockey and Sandra’s sister is sitting outside on the steps. ‘Roxanne’ coming out of the upstairs window and her sister tells me to take a seat, this will take until the end of ‘Can’t Stand Losing You’ at the very least’.” Laughter at my expense ensued and a pack of ally cats, whom I once considered friends, started belting out Roxanne.
A girl in her early twenties smiled at me, not understanding what was so funny and said to me, “My mom loves that song.” Her mom? Way to make a girl feel elderly.
My husband’s buddy slapped his back. “I hope for Sandy’s sake that was the extended concert version.” My husband, who has no shame, beamed the cockiest grin you ever saw. I both wanted to punch him in the gut and launch myself into his arms. And, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t instantly miss that old, crap apartment.
Now every time I’m driving with my girlfriends, they turn up and sing along with every Police song that comes on the radio… which gives us all away for being ‘late-thirty-something’s’ who are not getting old.