For an early date, he invited her to a punk show with his punk friends and in her mind, she saw their relationship end right there, a bunch of punks sizing her up, her safety pins were in her sewing kit, not her face. There were still punks in 2003? Did she even own one black item of clothing anymore? She likes color. Color isn’t punk. So she passed on the punk show, thanks but no thanks to being judged by the punk friends as being unsuitable for their punk lifestyle. She had no illusions about being cool in any universe, punk, hipster, cheerleader, whatever the hell any bunch of people thinks is cool. Her overall music vibe was best represented by Billy Joel. There may occasionally be some vaguely edgier additions to the baseline Billy Joel aesthetic, like Ben Folds, but she comes from Billy Joel. Her taste can be graphed from Elton John to Billy Joel to Ben Folds. Punks would punch you in the face for saying you love Billy Joel. She liked her face.
The punk friends turned out to be a young arty married couple with an awesome little kid who would in a relatively short time become some of her favorite people on the planet. So she doesn’t know shit, sometimes.