Be careful who you love

Last year, as we watched American Idol, I told my husband that I loved him with nearly all my heart.

“Nearly?” he asked, barely ruffled.

“Well, a little piece of it belongs to David Cook. Did you not just hear his rendition of Billie Jean?”

Flash forward to a bit over a year later. I'm standing in line to board a flight to Denver. I turn to my left and see a familiar face. He's talking to what I'm going to assume is his band, and...I can't for the life of me remember his name.

I call Luca. “Hon” I say “Quick. What’s the name of that guy who won American Idol – or maybe came in second – that I used to love? You know, when I told you a piece of my heart belonged to him?”

Luca replies immediately. “Oh, yes. Adam Lambert.”

“No, no” I say. “That was this year. And yes, I did say that my heart belonged to – anyhow, last year. The guy last year.”

“Ummm. I don’t know. Where are you? Have you boarded?”

“Luca, please! I need to know! Help me!”

“Ok. I’m looking it up. Ah! David Cook?”

“Yes!” I say “David Cook! He’s standing right next to me! I gotta to go.”

I hang up the phone and turn to look at David Cook. He looks at me. Our eyes lock (really). I mouth the (profound) words “David. Cook.” He nods. I say “You rock.” “He bows and graciously says “thank you”. He walks away.

That’s when I realize that there is a little piece of my heart that is quite fickle. As I turn to board the plane I call my husband back. “I am going to miss you” I say. “And I love you so much”.

“Yes” he says, with what I’m sure is a little smile. “I know.”