You Kept Changing the Song, but Sir Still Had Broken Keys

At some point in a difficult relationship, you can become so busy improving yourself that nobody remembers to ask why Sir requires quite this much improving around.

It starts innocently enough.

You soften a question because he did not like the way you asked it. You let something go because he has had a difficult day. The next time he pulls away, you give him more room. When that does not help, perhaps you give him even more room, until the relationship is beginning to resemble a very spacious property with one woman standing at the far end wondering whether she is allowed to speak.

Still, you are trying.

And after enough trying, Sir begins to resemble one of those beautiful grand pianos that looks perfectly fine until you sit down and press a key.

Nothing.

Hmm.

Naturally, you do not assume there is something wrong with Sir.

You assume you played him badly.

So you adjust your touch.

Perhaps Madam Needs More Practice

The second attempt is gentler.

Still nothing.

Another key sticks altogether, but this only inspires more effort. Perhaps you pressed too hard. Perhaps that section of the song is particularly delicate. Perhaps good pianists know how to coax a note out of a key that has shown absolutely no interest in participating.

So you practice.

This is how a woman can become astonishingly skilled at navigating a man who is astonishingly difficult to navigate.

You learn which subjects may be mentioned before dinner and which ones should wait until everyone is rested, cheerful and preferably somewhere with an easy exit. You discover that one ordinary question can produce a silence of such depth that future questions begin receiving careful consideration before they are allowed out.

Soon, entire notes are disappearing from the music.

Not because you stopped wanting to play them.

They simply cause trouble.

Very well.

We shall play around them.

And Sir, sitting there with several useless keys and absolutely no concerns about his technique, is having quite a pleasant recital.

The Song Is Becoming Rather Creative

This is where the performance gets good.

You decide perhaps you have been playing the wrong music altogether.

Maybe you expect too much tenderness. Maybe you enjoy closeness more than he does. Maybe wanting a man to talk about something after it goes wrong is one of those extravagant modern tastes women have developed.

Fine.

The song can be changed.

A little less honesty here. A little more patience there. We can remove the difficult section entirely and replace it with a nice quiet passage in which nobody asks Sir anything he would prefer not to answer.

Look at you.

Flexible. Understanding. Almost alarmingly talented.

From across the room, however, the scene has become difficult not to enjoy. Sir has several broken keys, and the pianist has responded by rewriting the entire composition.

One might reasonably ask whether this is still the song she wanted to play.

But goodness, she has become excellent at it.

Sir Is Still the Same Piano

And that may be the funniest part.

You really do get better.

You become softer in all the right places, quicker at spotting trouble and wonderfully skilled at avoiding the notes that tend to ruin the evening. You know when to wait, when to retreat and when to approach a perfectly ordinary subject as though carrying a full glass of champagne down a staircase in heels.

Madam has become an expert now, the sort of expert who could practically start giving lessons. You know exactly how to soften your touch, which notes to avoid and how to keep the whole thing sounding surprisingly lovely despite the fact that several rather important parts are missing.

And that is where the joke becomes difficult to ignore. All that practice has made you a better pianist, but it has not repaired the piano. You can change the song again, soften your touch until it is practically a caress and become so accomplished at avoiding the broken keys that nobody listening would ever guess they were there.

You would know, though, because you were trying to make beautiful music with a man who required half the melody to be removed first. Madam became an excellent pianist. Sir is still the same piano.