When it Rains, It Pours

Apparently, my love life has taken a cue from the week’s worth of rain that has been descending down upon the nation’s capitol. It’s funny, because this is always how my love life seems to go. Things are relatively slow for a while, and then all of a sudden, a plethora of suitors are tossed in to my lap (very figuratively speaking).

It all started on Tuesday night. After a relatively uneventful weekend (with Saturday being the exception to that rule) I was ready to have some fun this week. So, when it was re-brought to my attention that John Scofield was playing at The State Theatre in Falls Church, I decided to make my way in to the bleak night and attend. Me and some assorted Aqualounge members got to the show around 8:30 while the opening act was still performing. Although the music wasn’t anything to write home about, I immediately noticed the bassist, yet I kept my mouth shut, for fear of the dreaded “g” word being thrown my way once again. Plus, I’ve pulled the amazing Rook-Backstage-Disappearing-Trick (that trick being that I make it backstage, and never really return) one too many times with this particular group of friends. So, I thought nothing more of it. It seems that fate had a different plan of action for me though. When their set ended, I went outside to catch some fresh air. I immediately heard my name being called, and when I turned around, I noticed two friends who I hadn’t seen in a while chatting it up with the bassist. They introduce me, we all chat for a bit, and I walk away. Cut to an hour later, I am backstage watching Scofield (the disappearing trick is now in full effect). Cut to a few hours later, the show has ended and I am still chatting with bassist. Cut to a few hours after that and bassist and I are chatting back at his hotel. Anyway, it turns out he is a really nice guy, but unfortunately, he is in a touring band, and when he isn’t touring, he is in Boulder, Colorado. We have been talking with each other though, so I guess this may be another in-town sort of thing (that being, when he is in-town, we will hang).

Last night I got together with CPT who I hadn’t seen in an eternity due to very conflicting schedules. After much deliberation, we decide to go to the place we always end up going, Porter’s. When CPT and I walk in the door, I immediately spot some people that one of my exes work with. I quickly scan the room and don’t see him, and I am pleased. So CPT and I take our regular positions at the bar and start gossiping. Not two minutes go by when CPT looks over at me and says, “Isn’t that ex?” Lo and behold, it is. Eventually, ex comes over and starts talking with us and he is noticeably intoxicated. I don’t really think too much of it, and continue chatting with CPT with periodic drunken interruptions from ex. Eventually, CPT has to leave, and I am left alone at the bar… I guess I started to feel nostalgic, because when ex came up to me and asked if I wanted to go back to my place to talk, I agreed. The minute we walked out of the bar I realized what a bad decision I had made. It turned out that ex wasn’t just noticeably intoxicated; he was full-on-shit-canned WASTED! I’m talking couldn’t stay on the sidewalk-speaking so slurred I couldn’t make out a word he was saying-tripping over his own feet-wasted. After what felt like the longest walk back to my apartment EVER, I decide my best course of action is to try and sober him up and send him packing. Yet, when we got up to my apartment it seemed ex had plans of his own. I went in to the kitchen to get him a glass of the water, and when I returned two minutes later, he was dead to the world, passed-out, drunken body sprawled over my entire bed. I talked (very loudly) on the phone, he didn’t awaken. I turned on the television (also very loudly), he didn’t awaken. I went in to the kitchen and made as much noise as possible with random pots and pans, still nothing. Eventually, I came to the realization that ex wasn’t going anywhere, and I was tired. So, I pushed him as hard as I could over to the other side of the bed and fell asleep. The only saving grace of all of this was to see him in such rough shape this morning.

Finally, this weekend I am going camping with a friend (and about twenty of his friends) somewhere in VA, where there may indeed be a chance for romance. Hopefully my romantic prospects will live more in my proximity (preferably somewhere on the east coast) and won’t be so wasted that they barely remember their own name.

I am telling you my friends, when it rains, it pours.