How heavy metal lead to me meeting me wife

This article at Slate about books sparked a memory about record albums. Yeah, my brain is weird that way. The article makes an interesting point about first impressions. Back in the day, I definitely made snap judgments about people based on their record collection. It was the teen / 20 something equivalent of snooping in the medicine cabinet. Likewise, I wonder how many relationships have been sparked by a mutual interest in a book? However, none of that is possible when they are sitting at the park reading a Kindle, or if your new neighbor's entire music collection is hidden on an iPod. Maybe we need little holographic avatars of the book or album cover that float over your head. Sort of a real life Sims.

About that memory. When I was a clueless freshmen hitting the fraternity rush parties for the free beer, I saw a record collection on a house tour that looked just like mine. As a rebel without a clue recently transplanted to the Midwest from a tropical island, I was having a little trouble adjusting. My graduating class had 26 people in it. My floor on the dorm had 50 guys. My roommate was a new waver from Terre Haute, we didn't have a lot in common. But the resident of this particular room looked like the kind of person I could drink a beer with. In due course I met Dave and we did indeed drink a few (ahem) beers together during the course of my college career. I ended up joining that fraternity, and about 18 months later another frat brother introduced me to Michelle. But y'all already know that story. So meeting Dave that night, because of his record collection, set off a chain of events that led to me meeting Michelle. That probably would not of happened in the iPod world of today.

Ironically, Michelle hates metal.