If nothing else, go with “Jim Dandy.”

After nearly two months of dating, Suzanne and I have reached the next step of our relationship.

I met her friends.

And by friends, I mean her buddies who sing all night at a karaoke bar.

Yep. Chuck went karaoke. And usually, “karaoke” for me means my audience is the shower head, the steering wheel, or my computer monitor.

No, seriously. I’ve had mixed results when karaoke mixes with dating.

Ten years ago, I went for a date with a girl to sing karaoke at a dive bar in Schenectady. I showed up. She didn’t. I sang anyway. She never showed up.

Waiting for Godot at the Grog Shoppe

But I know Suzanne wouldn’t do that. I’m telling you. She told me about all her friends that sing karaoke, and what they usually sing, and how much fun she has.

Okay, Chuck. Are you going to let what happened to you ten years ago by some shallow person ruin a potential meeting with Suzanne’s friends?

No you are not. Put on your big boy pants, clear your throat, and make it happen.

We arrived at Maxie’s, a bar on Wolf Road where karaoke is king. I met Suzanne’s friends – who were all very nice and friendly and enthusiastic to meet the new guy who makes their friend glow.

Okay. I can do this. I’ve sung the Star Spangled Banner at Albany Patroons games, how hard can this be? Come on, Chuck, you can do this.

I filled out a song request card. And thirty minutes later, the karaoke MC called my name.

No backing out now.

Deep breath.

And I mean … deep breath.

Because if I’m doing karaoke, I’m going with a standard right off the bat.

Yep. Your man belted out Black Oak Arkansas with a gutteral growl that shocked even me.

And everybody loved it.

Including Suzanne, who filmed the whole thing on her phone.

And two of her friends said afterward that they were pleasantly surprised that I picked a song with Suzanne’s name in the lyrics. As in, “One day I met a girl named Sue // she was feeling kind of blue // this Dandy ain’t the kind of guy // to stand to see a little girl cry …”

Okay. Personal hurdle jumped. So can I do this again?

Why the hell not?

I went back to the table and chatted with Suzanne’s friends. Every one of her friends were happy, enthusiastic, and treated me like a welcoming newcomer.

So let’s make sure this isn’t a fluke.

I took the ballpoint and scribbled another song request on an index card. Up it went to the karaoke MC.

And 45 minutes later, my name was called again.

And although I’m certainly no Frankie Valli … I gave it my best shot.

During my performance, I looked over at Suzanne.

She was glowing. Beaming. With a smile that could light up a cavern.

So what if my voice broke at the Frankie Valli falsetto? I braved my fears, I conquered them, and she still hugged me after the performance.

This is a good thing.

A very good thing.

I had a great time with Suzanne and her friends, and I surpassed a personal demon that had haunted me for ten years.

Which means … yeah, I’ll do this again at some point.

Why the hell not? I’ve got nothing to fear by my own cracking voice on falsetto attempts. 😀