The Crazed Ex and the Dream Les Paul

Some guitars came to us in meaningful ways or from meaningful places. Some from Hell.

No woman had ever bought me anything musical, not even so much as a pick. 40 years of playing and not even a pick.

My second marriage lasted as long as a puff of tobacco smoke, but while it was going well, she sent me a text with a photo of the most beautiful lefty Les Paul Traditional you've ever seen. Her message said, "Sweetheart, I've bought you your dream guitar. I knew how much you wanted one. It cost $1800, and I'm just happy to please you this way."

Well, smack my back, Mr. Lumberjack--when it arrived, I opened the case, and there it sat all cherry sunburst, nothing but beauty, an excellent axe that matched my dreams.

I played it for an hour and another and another. Loved it. The ex liked my guitar playing a lot, but not enough to follow through on her purchase.

"Surely you know I can't buy an $1800 guitar!" she said out of the blue. I was stunned and said, 'Well I guess you can't then." It caused me a financial difficulty, but I paid for it.

When we divorced, she left me a note that said I owed her thanks for getting me my dream guitar.

That's the story of how I got my Les Paul and learned never to get married again. The End.

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Listen, children, and you will hear ... oh, wait, wrong story :lmao:

Listen children and you will hear
how CH Willie was made a mule's rear.
She said she bought a gift, his dream
Its body cherry red,
Its plastic vintage cream
Alas! I was misled!
Nothin' 'bout it was free to me.
She ordered it and said, “You see:
I ain't payin a cent."
I spent more than two months’ rent.

So fer goodness sake
Don't buy me a sitar!
if my money's at stake
Just don't look at a guitar.
I'll admit I love the Les Paul to touch....
The ex-wife: never so much.

:up awesome:roflmao:appl: