Thursday, May 25, 2006

Awkward Social Buzzkillz

My life has been full of man missed signals. Last week, a guy chatted me up about sucky San Francisco landlords and good Italian leather shoes. I was so enamoured by his Crest-Whitestrips smile and charisma, I failed to catch on that he was sort of gay. Well, all gay, actually.

My big clue? He dropped the "P" bomb: Partner. Or the extra nail in the coffin: Life Partner.

More recently, at my Birthday Bash, Suzanne and I sat next to a more attractive version of an Eddie Vedder lookalike. Seriously, flannel and all. We all had a very animated Seattle Conversation. Good times, good times. Until I notice a very angry woman coming closer. And closer, until she takes the barstool sandwiched between us. She's not so into the Seattle Conversation, and lets Suzanne and I know by dividing us with her back to us. He got in what sounded like some kind of "trouble."

My streak of niave assumption started a couple of months ago while listening to Tim Easton in concert. He opened up for Lucinda Williams at the Luther Vandross Amphetheatre in Santa Rosa. Girls just sort of assume that rockstars are perpetually single. Some girl in the audience yelled, asking if he was single. He skirted the issue in a skillful PR way until he later redeemed himself by singing a song and dedicated it to a girl. It was sweet, sort of sad, and well, not an anonymous song for Old Yeller in the audience.

While hanging out backstage, I met Tim's girlfriend, who was a doll. We drank Absolut Mandarin and Tonics and talked about traveling and art. The sound guy for Lucinda and Neil Young was telling interesting stories about "the ranch." I was glad to see Lucinda and Doug (Pettibone) again, but I remember being especially self-conscious to give him a ride in my "truck." I had rented a car and Enterprise hooked me up with an enormous, gigantric Ford F-250. Since I grew up on a farm and all, I thought I could roll with it. My ego was a little daintier.

Maybe having a dedicated song is one of those things every girl wants and doesn't know she wants until she sees someone else get it. (Like Cabbage Patch Kids in 1984?) This Time Last Year (see post) National Bestselling Author played the guitar and sang to me when I was pretending not to be sick, for what that's worth. But my first song, "inspired" by yours truly, debuted at Hotel Utah by Paris King and his Band. I didn't know what to expect, Paris having never been a love interest, but I was completely thrilled. It was upbeat and happy, without any tones of regret. My heart skipped a half beat of happiness, making all of the social buzzkills of the past week bearable.

***By the way, Tim is playing tonight at Cafe du Nord, $10 at the door, part of a several-city tour. Rock on, Tim!***

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