"This would be a good song to strip to." Your words caused your boyfriend to look over at you quickly from the road, apparently surprised by your statement, the sounds of Halestorm's 'Gonna Get Mine' still playing in the car. "What?"
"Is that how you judge if a song is good or bad?"
"Well, no," you replied. "It has nothing to do with that. It's just about the rhythm of the song, somewhat about the lyrics, that I think makes it good or bad for stripping."
"And what other songs do you think would be good for stripping?" Seth's tone was teasing, obviously not taking your philosophy seriously, as he continued to look out the windshield.
"Oh man…well, one I definitely always think is Depeche Mode 'Personal Jesus'," you stated.
"That's just wrong," he laughed.
"I know," you giggled. "Which makes it so much better." You paused. "Um…what else. …Fall Out Boy 'Centuries'…. Most Rihanna songs… What's one I heard recently…OH! Slipknot 'Killpop'."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously." You affirmed. "Ya know, for someone who isn't actively considering a career in stripping, I'm now realizing I might spend too much time thinking about what songs would be good for said career…."
"Yea, I'm realizing that too," he agreed, making a right turn. "But I mean, if you do want to consider that career, but like only for me, I will support your aspirations."
"We'll see," you smirked. He looked at you with a slight pout, causing you to stick out your tongue playfully. "I wonder how your entrance music would be for stripping…"
"I'm gonna go ahead and say, not good," Seth decided, causing you to laugh.
"You're probably right," you concurred. "Hey, where are you taking me anyways for dinner?"
"We're going downtown," Seth answered.
"There's a strip club downtown."
"…OK? And? You wanna go give song advice to the strippers?"
"Yes!" Your enthusiastic response was apparently not what he had wanted as he sighed, shaking his head slightly to himself. "What? I always like to help people."
"I know. Maybe after dinner," he replied, clearly just humoring you. You beamed over at him, before leaning across the center console to play a kiss to his bearded cheek.
"Nah, we've got after dinner plans already," you stated, sitting back in your seat.
"We do?" He questioned.
"Uh, yea," you said in an 'obviously' tone. "If I'm going to pursue my new career path, I'm going to need help figuring out appropriate work clothes."
"Well, I am definitely your guy."
"Knew I could count on you," you grinned, as he slid his hand off the steering wheel to take yours, entwining your fingers. "I'm thinking black."
"I'm thinking I don't want to go to dinner anymore."
"Oh hell no," you objected. "You try to deny me food, and you're gonna get the opposite of a stripper when we get home. I'll put on every sweatshirt in that house and barricade myself in the bedroom without you."
"OK, OK," he chuckled. "Dinner first."