LOY.ADV #1: Carrie NoKey

on the social etiquette of perhaps the most divisive nightlife activity around

Dear Loy,

My wife‘s go to karaoke move is to:
1) Get medium-plus drunk.
2) Make best friends with the DJ.
3) Convince them to let her close out the night.
4) Choose “Bawitaba” by Kid Rock, a song to which she does not know any lyrics.
5) Perform confidently but incompetently without shame.

This makes me deeply uncomfortable every time. I already have introvert induced panic in such environments. I just don’t know what way to feel about it. From an etiquette/social contract/peaceable kingdom POV, it feels wrong. But from a dance like no one’s watching/live laugh love/shame has no place here POV, well, I’m just glad that she can have a moment she loves.

Help. What can I do to break free from this inside kid shell and revel in my chaos agent spouse’s glory?

Sincerely,
Carrie NoKey

dear Carrie,

as a self-proclaimed karaoke fiend…let me tell you a story.

it was the summer of 2022 and my roommate/best friend and i were on our way home from a concert. the night was young and we were more-than-medium-plus drunk, leading to the intoxicated decision to head to our regular dive bar for french fries and a nightcap.

and what should we discover as we entered this establishment? i’ll give you three guesses, Carrie, and the first two don’t count.

that’s right: it was karaoke night.

my vision was blurring, my words were slurring, but i am a Leo moon and a reformed theater kid, which means i’ll never pass up a chance to perform. i ordered a tequila pineapple and put in a request to sing the Paramore classic “Misery Business,” a song which i know like the back of my hand but that is also notoriously difficult to sing. i grabbed my drink, i grabbed the mic, i took my place at the front of the bar…

…and then i woke up.

i wracked my brain and my camera roll, but found little more than a few less-than-attractive selfies and two scabby knees to give me any clues as to what had happened the night before. i stumbled out of my room and into the kitchen (i desperately needed to hydrate, obviously), where i found my roommate/best friend eating their breakfast.

“wild night, huh?” they said.

“i guess so? i don’t really remember much after the concert…” i said.

“wait, really? you don’t remember falling?” he asked.

“…no?”

his jaw dropped. he opened a video on his phone and handed it to me to watch. it was me, in an unbelievably inebriated state, not only absolutely butchering “Misery Business,” but at one point literally collapsing. it looked like something out of a cartoon. like when Wile E. Coyote falls backwards off a cliff, but his body stays in a straight line for the entire duration of the fall. there was no attempt to catch myself, a complete lack of equilibrium, and it might have been comical had i not nearly taken down the karaoke machine and projector in my wake.

Carrie, i was absolutely mortified. completely inconsolable. so much so, in fact, that i did not go back to that bar for months, too ashamed to show my face in the establishment where, as far as i was concerned, i had nearly ruined karaoke night for all involved, and deeply embarrassed myself in the process.

but it turns out that you cannot avoid your neighborhood watering hole forever. and when i did reappear so many months later, the reaction of the bartenders were completely opposite of my expectations. i was not met with derision, nor with disdain, but instead with adulation and wide open arms. when asked where i’d been, i answered honestly that i was too embarrassed to make an appearance after the karaoke incident. the response?

“what? honey, don’t be embarrassed, you’re an icon. our favorite karaoke-er of recent memory.”

what i like about your letter, Carrie, is that your question was not from a lens of “how do i convince my wife to stop her antics?” but instead a desire to appreciate and embrace her karaoke-sona. as a (believe it or not) deeply anxious individual myself, i can relate to your impulse to hold up a social contract.

i wonder if we can reframe for you what the social contract of karaoke entails.

in my eyes, i had completely desecrated the peaceable karaoke kingdom on the night of my literal fall from grace. but from the bar staff’s POV…i was simply having a great time. in fact, they even crowned me first place in the karaoke competition that night and awarded me with a bottle of bubbly, a detail i of course forgot considering my blackout. i don’t plan to get quite so drunk at karaoke (or anywhere else) any time soon (or ever again), but i also no longer consider this occasion one of my top five embarrassing moments.

the etiquette requirements of karaoke are just different than those of the rest of the world. there are requirements, to be sure, and as an expert i have been considering writing an in-depth breakdown a la my oft-referenced Guide To Splitting The Bill, but as far as i can tell your wife is not breaking any of them. in fact, it’s quite possible that the friendships she’s making with these various DJs are at least partially genuine — DJs are not a group particularly well known for their ability to conceal their emotions — and her perhaps-less-than-accurate rendition of “Bawitaba” may very well be someone’s favorite performance of the night.

i’m not here to suggest that you get up on stage and belt your heart out beside her (though if you are ever compelled to do so, may i humbly suggest eschewing “Don’t Go Breakin’ My Heart” for…quite literally any other duet). the environment of karaoke is deeply specific, and actually calls for both well-spirited introverts, such as yourself, and chaos agents, such as your wife. some people need cheering-on, and some people need something to cheer for. you and your wife are both simply playing separate but equally important roles in the delicate balance that is a karaoke night.

all this is to say, Carrie: you seem to be worried that through her actions, your wife is breaking the rules a social contract. it may help you to consider, instead, that she is fulfilling them.

cheers,
LSW

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