An Aftersquib to the Foregoing

So there's a postscript to my 8 am...um, post...that I feel the need to add, just because the whole thing was totally surreal.

I wrote that post at about 4 o'clock on Sunday afternoon.  Whilst I was in the process of writing it Winamp decided to shuffle through three different versions of the Lost Immigrants' "Memories & Rust" in a row, also known as the only three versions of that song I have.  That's a song I associate very strongly with Her, so having that song playing while I was writing a post about having a dream about her was just freaking weird.



After that I went up to the Celtic Knot for some storytelling.  I walked in, walked around the wall in to the main dining room, and saw a table full of storytellers I kind of know but don't know very well.  As I was debating whether to invite myself in to the group I noticed that at the very next table was seated none other than her, who I have literally not seen at the Celtic Knot since October of 2008.

I retreated to the bar.  On the heels of weird dream and weird coincidence of "Memories & Rust" it was just more than I wanted to think about.

I ended up at the bar sitting next to this middle-aged, drunk woman.  Now, I've decided that I should, like, talk to people more.  She started talking to me, I decided to be friendly.  I immediately regretted it.

She told me not too long in to the whole thing that what she really wanted was to get me to start hitting on her friend.  The friend in question looks a lot like what I imagine someone I dated back about 13 years ago will look like when she turns 45.  If she puts on some weight between now and then.

So by that point I was annoyed and totally weirded out by, like, everything that had been happening.  I told my new "friend" that it wasn't going to work because I'd just met someone and, y'know, I was pretty in to that whole thing.  She wished me luck.  I was all, "Hey, I know how to not be an ass.  When did that happen?"  I mean, I didn't say that to her, it was more of an internal dialog thing.  Because, really, her friend hadn't done anything to me and I really didn't want to just be all, y'know, asshole-ish about it.

Then, somehow, the conversation turned to Texas.  There's the standard joke about how not everything's actually bigger in Texas, which I've used for much mileage since getting back.  I tossed in that, well, my car actually did get bigger in Texas.

She asked what kind of car I drive.  I told her it's a 2010 Mazda 6.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," she said.

This surprised me, since I fucking love my 6 and I can't imagine why anyone would say such a thing.  So I asked why.

"Well, y'know, it's not a very testosterone filled car," she replied.

I said something non-committal, which she took as encouragement.

"My husband and I both drive really big cars," she said.

"Well," I replied, "I find that driving a really big car is the same as announcing to the world that one has a really small penis, so I'm not sure why I'd worry about such things."

"Oh, well," she said, "At least you're confident in yourself."  She then said something about needing something to haul her menagerie around in.

I said, "Oh, for me it's just me and my dog, so I don't need that much space."

She asked what kind of dog I have.  I told her I own a domesticated coyote.

She decided she had to leave.

Then I went to the back and Jim Stowell told a few good stories, after which I got the fuck out of the Celtic Knot.  I have never left that place that fast.  I just did not want to stick around any longer.

Comments

[Michael Mock]

I've had days like that, but... well... not in a very long time.