I was at my weekly jam session. Our local pub has a back room they let us use. We were getting through another version of The Weight. As folkies, I think we’re required to play that one once per session; it is a hell of a song. My mandolin was actually sounding pretty good tonight.
I’d been having a good time dating this new young lovely lately. She was very sweet and just liked hanging out. I had heard my phone receive some text messages through the evening; I made sure they weren’t from my kids, and then kept playing.
We quit playing shortly after 11:00, and it was about midnight by the time I was home and in bed. That’s when I remembered to check my phone. There were a metric shitload of texts from Ms. Young Lovely. Some excerpts:
“I am feeling a bit ‘friend-zoned’ today. I’m generally pretty perceptive about stuff. You told me that it was over with your wife. Are you sure? Be honest. We both deserve it. I just felt you were a bit distant today.”
“I feel your retreat. It’s okay. Just be honest with yourself. And me.”
“You either forge ahead or live in the past. I think with some patience we could have had something special.”
“Good luck, Paul. Next time don’t throw away the love you deserve.”
Wow! Totally text-bombed! So much for “didn’t seem crazy”. I sent one quick text to her “Thanks. Good luck to you too.”
And then I turned off my phone. Seriously, dude, you’re going to out-crazy me? I’m the fucking king of crazy!
At least I’ll have a good story for the next time I’m drinking with Jeff.