When I was in college, my roommate's new boyfriend came to visit for a weekend. He lived a few hours away and didn't know his way around campus yet. So, shortly after he arrived in town, it was my job to escort him to the choir concert where my roommate was singing.
Although he was a motorcycle-riding Metallica fan, he was at least mildly attentive, if not overly enthused about sitting with a bunch of strangers and listening to ladies warble for a couple hours.
Afterward, my roommate excitedly asked her man which song had been his favorite.
He thought for a moment. "The one about the chainsaw."
"The what?"
"I liked the one about the chainsaw. That was the best."
It was her turn to think for a moment. "You mean Ching-a-ring Chaw?"
"Yeah."
She paused again, looking at him with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Were you even there?!"
Maybe on that particular topic, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. But they're still married today.