I am very seriously considering naming this guitar Katie.
She caught my eye the instant I walked in. I don’t know why I didn’t approach her. I was constantly drawn back to her, and I kept stealing glimpses of her from across the room. She looked amazing. But I stayed away. For some reason I cannot explain, I stayed away. I don’t believe in fate or mysticism or any of that jive, but there was a powerful feeling around her, like the inaudible hum in the air near a high voltage power junction. Like an amplifier turned up to full output, with no signal channeled through it. A hum you can’t hear at all, but you feel with every cell in your body. Frightening but enticing. Addictive. Electric. Maybe I knew on some level that if I held her, that would be it for me. I’d want that feeling all the time. I’d feel her vibration through the core of me, and I would be hers.
I kept thinking about her for the next few days. She would pop into my head unbidden, and then vanish just as suddenly. As soon as I’d forgotten about her, she would reappear, clouding my thoughts, filling me with regret that I hadn’t recognized and pursued something so perfect when it was right in front of my face.
I went back to see her. I told myself that I was there for other reasons, but I was there for her. I knew it was hopeless; there was no way she would still be there. Some other guy would have surely seen her and made the move I should have. She would be gone. But against all reason and hope, there she was. Still waiting. Still wonderfully, gloriously available. I have no way to explain this. A hundred other men must have walked by her since I saw her last, looking her over, putting their hands on her, or at least thinking about it. Checking her out. And somehow, for whatever reason, none of them had gotten her. None of them had made the move to possess this perfect beauty. Had they all been crazy? Had they all been blind? How was this possible? I wasted no time searching for answers.
There would be no fucking around this time. I went straight to her, and picked her up. It wasn’t long before I held her properly, the way she was meant to be held. She felt different than I’d imagined. Good different. There was a smoothness and lightness about her that I did not foresee. She felt small and solid and perfectly real and right laying against me, like she had been sculpted to be there. And the sounds we made when I moved my fingers over her perfect neck, her perfect body… well, there’s only one word for it. Music.
So I made her mine.
There is no picture in existence that could do her justice. She’s not something that can be fully appreciated with any one sense alone. She is an experience. Something deep and irresistible vibrates around her. And if you’re nearby, you vibrate with it, like a soundboard. She was the tuning fork that made me sing along, one octave lower, in perfect pitch and unison, just by being in her presence. There’s a word for that, too. Harmony.
Maybe I should name her Harmony. That seems like the sort of clever substitution most people would find acceptable. One step removed from the truth of the matter, safely buffered away from the exposed nerve. Distanced from the threat of pain. But it’s a lie. Saying the name tastes like a dirty penny on my tongue. Aluminum foil on my teeth. Another woman’s name on my lips. It’s wrong. It’s dishonest. Because, like my eyes being drawn repeatedly to her, my heart and my mind are leading me again and again to the inescapable truth, which is that I never had a choice in the matter. I knew what her name was the second I saw her, and all of this is just my long, slow way of trying to accept it. She took hold of me, and in one way or another she’s going to be with me for a long, long time. She’s not going to be easy to forget. She’s not going to be easy to put down.
Yeah, I am very seriously considering naming this guitar Katie.
2005 Fender Squier Affinity Series Stratocaster
6 String Solid Body
BODY: Alder, Transparent Green finish, 3-Ply White/Black/White pickguard
NECK: Maple, Bolt-On
FRETBOARD: Rosewood, White Acrylic inlay
BRIDGE: Twin-Pivot Tremolo Bridge with Satin-Anodized Saddles