21 May 2000 ~ Cheap date...

Well, C.G.B. Spender may be dead, Fox Mulder is in space, and Dana Scully's pregnant...

How I love the X-files!

Anyway.

I think I'll talk about last night. Or rather, what I can remember of last night.

Last week at the Yolk show, I ran into an old friend, who I'll call, uh... Tom. Yeah, I'll call him Tom. I hadn't seen him in quite a long time, but he remembered me and invited me to see HIS band play.

(FYI -- Talking to Tom does not count as "meeting a band." Tom's band "practiced" by sitting in their studio, listening to Tom Waits, and smoking a bong, at least last time I hung out with that crowd...)

Anyway, I'd kinda forgotten about the show until last night when my manager, Matt, said, "a buddy of mine told me to come see his band tonight at Cheers..." Which, of course, reminded me, and also reminded me that I had nothing to do when I got off work... So I thought about it a little bit, and decided to see if I could find something to do at home first... If not, well, there was always a show I could attend...

Well, I got home, walked in the door, and said, "hi, guys, how's it going?" to my ever-sweet-and-loving housemates, and got the silent treatment. Apparently, they'd just gotten done either fighting or fucking and were not about to talk to an outside party, not even the one who feeds and shelters them.

Ooookay! Off to the show!

I got ready and was out the door. It didn't occur to me that I hadn't eaten anything. It SHOULD have occurred to me that I hadn't eaten anything, but I didn't think about it. I didn't think about anything except, "What the fuck did I do NOW that my fucking housemates won't even talk to me?" After a ten-hour shift, during which I hadn't talked to either of them, it would have been nice to at least get a word or two out of them...

So I walked through the scary, smelly tunnel over to Clinton Street, paid my cover charge, and wandered in.

Of course, I ran into more than half a dozen people I knew, including Tom-the-band-guy and Matt-the-manager.

The band was good. Better than I expected. MUCH better than I expected, for a band that never did anything except listen to Tom Waits and smoke bongs.

Tom found me after the band had played their set. He talked to me about his job. I talked to him about mine. I sipped his drink, which was Coke and Captain Morgan, as Tom called it, although *I* would have called it Captain Morgan and Coke, just to be a little more accurate. It was a good night.

...I didn't realize just how little Coke was actually in that drink. I swear I didn't even have a full cup by myself, and I was TRASHED...

Lesson number one of the night: always have a wee snacky before your wee drinky.

I started thinking some very strange things... Like, how very attractive Matt was... I started thinking about going up to him and trying to seduce him or something... I started thinking, hey, you know, so what if it means I'd lose my job if I was seeing somebody in my store? Matt IS a total babe, and incredibly smart, and incredibly sweet, and...

I don't THINK I came onto him. I don't THINK I actually said anything to him at all. I DO, however, know that I desperately wanted to. Oh well. They say alcohol's a truth serum. When you work for somebody for six months, day in and day out, knowing that you were hired to replace his ex-girlfriend, who was working in the store at the time, you don't think about things like, "you know, he really is a babe..." But with some Captain Morgan and Coke, Matt didn't really look much like my manager anymore. He looked like a nice guy in a nice outfit with amazing hair having a few beers at a bar.

Out of the entire evening, the thing I MOST wish I could forget was seeing Matt and... liking him... REALLY liking him. I'll be able to work with him again, but deep down, as much as deny it, I'll never be able to see him exactly the way I used to...

Lesson number two: Never drink with co-workers. Or near them.

Tom and I talked all night. Everybody thought I was with the band, or at least with the guy from the band. I remember him holding my hand, and sort of massaging my neck... I remember being too drunk to watch the other band, and kind of slumping over on my barstool and using Tom as a couch. I don't remember what we talked about then. Except that I finished the drink and he got us another one.

I remember Tom, who is ten years older than me, ninety pounds heavier than me, a drug dealer, a bassist, and a nice, but damned strange guy, kissing me... I remember kissing him back.

...I remember him desperately trying to talk me into coming home with him... I remember saying no and walking home after giving him my number and telling him I'd come over some other time...

I remember coming home -- I said something to Matt on the way out the door and I'll be damned if I can remember what it was -- giggling because I thought my housemate was wearing lipstick, which he wasn't, and collapsing into bed. I pretty much went unconscious as soon as my head hit the pillow.

This morning, I went out with my grandparents. They wanted to celebrate my birthday. They gave me purple bathroom accessories. My bathroom is bright yellow. Oy. I couldn't decide if my headache and low blood pressure were from the purple-ness of it all, or from my buddy Captain Morgan. Let me tell you how fantastic I DIDN'T feel this morning.

I need sleep.

Lesson number three: I'm a fucking cheap date.

~Helena*