My Guide to Life, part 17 (now updated)

Man, I am exhausted. Still riding high from Friday’s date, but freakin’ exhausted. Okay, so here’s the Sunday round-up for you, dear readers…

Okay, so last night I knew I was going to be running into the X (as well as her new boyfriend and her father whom I know well) at a show I was going to. So, you know, the thing to do was to find some hot chick to go with me, dress my best, and look and act like I owned the fucking world.

But, of course, here’s what really happened…Let me take a step back for a second and say that the only reason I ended up going to this show in the first place was that one night at the bar D. and I were playing pool and I played the song “Sweet Jane” on the jukebox and D. started going on about how much he loved Cowboy Junkies. So I told him about the show and he totally wanted to go. Okay, so for the last week I’d been suggesting to D. that we find some people to go with us, you know, for the reasons stated above. I didn’t really care who–you know, former junkies (real ones, not cowboy ones), psycho bitches from hell, and chicks with jealous boyfriends were all on the table as far as I was concerned. But my efforts at suggesting people to D. generally led to no action on his part or a negative response. The worst was when I suggested K2: “What the hell? She’ll freak out and start screaming and crying during the show.” Okay, so it’s true that I’ve seen her angry and/or crying more than once, but that was always because of something stupid that D. said to her. But, anyway, that never happened. One person I didn’t ask was JetBlue. And you know what? I’ve been rejection-free for something like two weeks now. And I wanna keep it that way. At times, I kinda feel like I’m in some sort of JetBlue AA. “My name is *** and I’m a Mo-oholic. D. did mention the show to her yesterday afternoon, but mostly so he could say “In your face!” one of his favorite expressions.

Oh, yeah. Yesterday afternoon. So I was supposed to go golfing with D. so I headed into town to get cash at about the time we were expecting to go out. As it turned out D. was going to be late so, since I was in the neighborhood, I decided to stop by the bar, mind you, it was around 3:30. I figured a half hour there couldn’t hurt anyone. Of course, JetBlue was there along with five or six other of the usual suspects. This was all fine–I talked with the other usual suspects while I was there and left JetBlue at the end of the row of people, trying to get everyone’s attention with her random comments.

So, anyway, D. arrived a short time later and we headed off to golf. I did great–apparently the coupla beers I had at the bar actually improved my game. The couple I had during golf, I’m not so sure about. So anyway, straightaway after golf we headed out to Luna pizza and then back to Ho’yoke. D. found a couple of deer ticks on himself so I spent the rest of the night with the heebie-jeebies, wondering what I would find at the end of the night when I took my pants off.

We met up again at 8:45 at the bar and, guess what, JetBlue and the whole crew were still there! So, I had yet another couple of drinks and we headed up to the show.

So, instead of the cool, confident guy with the babe on his arm, I arrived at the show wearing a shirt I had found on the floor of my room, with D. and his “heelies” and with a long day of drinking behind me. Psyched–way to go! Now, mind you, I wasn’t drunk. I just had that tiredness, sluggishness, and slight tipsiness that long drawn out days will give you.

Okay, so the first thing I saw was the X, a couple of people ahead of us in line. As I crossed the street I kind of waved and really couldn’t tell if the X acknowledged me. I knew one thing though–I was too chicken shit to walk over to her, the BF and her dad. Way to go.

Once inside, D. and I decided to hang at the bar. D. figured that that was where the action was. His attempt to draw the woman behind us in line over to the bar was not in the least successful–perhaps because while we were in line the two of us were reviewing the sordid details of our respective weekends. So, anyway, I had seen the X get up from her table, I presumed to go downstairs to the bathroom. We went to the bar and D. stepped up to get us drinks. Suddenly the person standing at the bar turned around and I realized that it was the X. O my god, I was fucking shocked. I hope I hadn’t said anything stupid right before that, but, hey, what you don’t recall can’t hurt, not too much at least. Now mind you, the whole time we were walking to the bar, I had been working out in my head what cool and casual thing I would say to her when she came up the stairs, but all that was out the window. I stammered something, introduced her to D. and then the bartenders gave us all attitude for coming to the bar and she was gone in a flash. She muttered “jackass” as she walked by, but I was reasonably sure that she wasn’t aiming that at me. Oh, and as she walked away, D. was all like “Hey, who was that?” in his slick way. And I gotta admit, the X is looking even more beautiful than ever. What can I say? I could be all rude about an X and say nasty things to boost my own ego, but, hey, that’s not how I roll. At any rate, I told D. and he dropped his lounge lizarding…

Anyway, the show was great. Oh–X, if you’re reading this, if your service was ever slow last night, it’s probably D.’s fault. He was chatting up your waitress all night long. In between sets, I spoke briefly with the X’s da. He was sitting alone at the time so it was a good chance to say hi. I kept it brief because, you know, it’s a bit awkward. I was kinda surprised I did do it at all, considering my chicken-shitted start to the night. And I even refrained from mentioning the Yankees. I usually like kicking them around, but you know,Yankees fans know their team sucks. No need to remind them of it. Not right before a series with them at least.

At any rate, as I was saying, I thought it was a great show. At some point in the night, D. told me this story of a guy who was out with a woman, brought her home and eventually passed out cold. When he woke up the next day and went to pee he found that the pee was coming out as a spray. Okay–so this is freaking gross and bizarre–while he was passed out she had inserted a toothpick into his–well you get the idea. I’m grossing myself out re-telling this story. Now, in addition to fearing that I have ticks crawling all over me, I’m feeling very vulnerable down below as well.

After the show we stopped back down to the bar. Yes, JetBlue’s car was still there, though she had just left. Man, nine plus hours in a bar on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. You can see why I was all about her. D. and I stayed awhile, but nothing much was happening.

And that, dear readers, is why I’m freaking exhausted today.


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