And Then There Was Her

My last relationship left enough scars on me, in me, to last for sixteen lifetimes. God had a good laugh on me with that one. After all, she was everything I thought I wanted. That was part of the problem. She was what I wanted, not what I needed. But there she was, looking like a Penthouse Pet; sexy, beautiful, and fucked me every inch of everywhere. Dick was happy, but Dony got his ass kicked... repeatedly, and with intent and malice.
Thankfully, I finally managed to put Mr. Dick back in his place and rid myself of tar baby, but not before my body was riddled with stitches and staples and gaping wounds. Still, I managed to crawl away, a smidgen of wit, brain waves, and hutzpah intact.
Then she walked in.
I’m not sure what to make of it yet. Can it be? Could it be? The one?
From the moment I met her, interviewing her for a magazine article I was commissioned to write, I was intrigued. Intrigued by not only her beauty, but by her grace, her effortless skills, her calm, her peace. Oh yeah, did I mention she was a knockout, too?
We kept talking days after the interview was over. She would call me when I least expected it. She invited me over for Christmas day. She asked to accompany me on New Year’s Eve. I mean, she really seemed to want to spend time with me. I was intimidated. I’m still intimidated. Why? Because this woman is real. A force to be reckoned with.
I recall the beginning of New Year’s Eve. Downtown was a mess. Cops were closing streets left and right making it almost impossible for me to make the two sound checks I needed to make. The stress levels I was experiencing were higher than pleasurable. The old “could this be a fucking nightmare New Year’s Eve again” loomed large. Too close for comfort.
She and I had made plans to possibly have a bite to eat after the sound checks and before the performances, but everywhere I turned was nothing but chaos and half assed horseshit.
I sat on stage at the second sound check, way past the time we’d planned to meet, much less call, and I felt like shit not having a second in which to stop and give her a call to let her at least know what’s what. Not cool. In anyone’s book.
As I sat there, feeling like a complete shit, I felt something. Something like a breath of fresh air. I turned and there she was, looking like a million dollars. She’s taken the initiative to come down and meet me when she hadn’t heard from me. Oh yeah, did I mention she’s smart? Really fucking smart?!
i won’t bore you with the details, but from that second on when she entered the room all stress left my body and everything that happened afterwards was nothing short of a cool breeze type evening. Nothing but pure rhythm and groove. Made me pick up my game a notch or two, feeling I had a partner who was worth any amounts of effort I could put into it. Both shows were fantastic, as good a time as I’ve ever experienced beating the piss out of a drum kit with some really incredible musicians playing great tunes. Why? She was there.
We didn’t get into a hurry, had pedi-cabs take us where we needed to go, and had nothing but a low key, easy going, no pressure blast.
Since, life has continued this magical rhythm.
Should I be so lucky? Is it that time in my life to have that great one?
I don’t know. And furthermore, I’m not letting the weight of “what if” put undue pressure on us. We just hang. And groove. And get to know one another. Nothing else.
A concept, eh?
Can this white man be so lucky?
Time will tell. Meanwhile, I’m riding this wave for all it’s worth. And from here, the shoreline looks like the most perfect beach this white man has ever seen.
‘Bout time.
Bitchin’.