You said yes to the guy who asked you out two years ago and you turned him down. Now he has shown up at a dancing venue in Concord on the same day you wondered whatever happened to him. You see, he lives in San Francisco and you live in Suburbia.
Then you agree to meet him at the local wine festival, and he says he doesn’t love the Beatles. And that the music is hard to dance to. And you’re wondering why you ever agreed to meet him in the first place.
He wants to watch part of the 49er’s game. So you meet him at a bar right in the middle of the festival. While you stand there with him for fifteen minutes, you see half a dozen people that you know. He knows no one.
He is pretty chatty, but a lot of it is about his ex-wife. He’s been divorced for almost three decades. She comes up in the conversation a dozen times during the course of the date.
Get over it! you want to say. At one point, I am afraid you do say it. Three decades, man!
He is hungry. He wants to eat a slice of pizza. You are not hungry. He wants to sit down. You find a window ledge where you both can sit/lean. He says the music is too loud. You ask him if he brought his earplugs. No, they are back home in SF.
He wants to walk around. The place is jam-packed with people, people with strollers, people with dogs. He wants to follow you. You don’t like pushing your way through the crowd.
“You lead,” you say. “You are bigger than I am.”
He asks you if you want some wine. He complains about having to buy a glass. You tell him you don’t need any wine. After standing and listening to another band, you suggest that the two of you go back to the first stage where your Beatles band will be playing in a matter of minutes.
You push your way back through the crowd. When you get there, there is only one seat open. You ask him to sit there while you work on getting another seat. He is reluctant about sitting down without you. You know he will never get another seat, so you insist. You ask a man with an empty seat next to him if you can sit there for a minute. He is saving it for a woman, but he agrees to let you sit there. Then the guy on your left says, “Don’t go anywhere, we are leaving soon.” You ask him why and he says, “Too many sound checks.”
The band has walked offstage again since the lead singer doesn’t like the reverb in his speaker. Your date looks glum three seats over. You give him a smile to let him know you are still working on it.
The guy on your left says, “Get ready. We are going to get up now. Are you ready?”
You lean over and tell your date to get ready to move. The couple leaving stands up, you motion to your date, you stand up and move over two seats and wave your date over. Immediately the woman now on your left asks you to move over one seat so her husband can join her. You explain that the empty seat you just vacated is being saved.
Your date insists on buying you some wine.
Okay, twist my arm.
Now his seat will look vacant again, so you ask him to take off his shirt and leave it on his chair.
“I’m not going to take off my shirt!” he says.
“Not that one, the one tied around your waist,” you say.
“Oh, okay,” he says.
He leaves and the woman behind you asks you to dance. You barely know her, but what the hey? The seats are procured, the date is off buying wine (and a glass) and you hear Beatles music in your ear.
That’s when you realize you bf from last year has been sitting in front of you the whole time and is pawing over his new squeeze. He has shown up at the last four dancing venues you’ve been to. He has not asked once about your sister. You have ignored him, and now it is awkward to say hello. He has worn the same shirt the last four times you have seen him.
On the dance floor you know several more people. It’s a hug fest. You keep watching for your date, but in order to look, you have to look past last year’s bf. It is awkward. He is tall.
When your date comes back, you toast your wine against his beer. He doesn’t sing along to the Beatles’ songs. Everyone is singing along. He really doesn’t like the boys from Liverpool (or their impostors).
After a while the band stops for a break and you excuse yourself to the Porta potties. When you get back your date leaves again for another round of drinks. You sing to Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds with the woman’s husband who now has a chair next to you.
Your date comes back with two wines now. You chitchat about wine. He asks you if you smoke pot. You say no.
“Pot is an aphrodisiac,” he says.
“Oh,” you say.
“It makes you want to have sex and makes you hungry.”
Let’s cut right to the chase, you think to yourself.
You see a chorus friend and walk over to give her a hug. You tell her about the weird date you are on.
“I’ll read about it in tomorrow’s blog,” she says.
“Probably,” I say.
Couldda Wouldda Shouldda
You shouldn’t have written about this so soon.