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A friend of mine told me a great story this weekend. A few years back she
and her boyfriend were taking a break while he figured out whether he really
wanted to be with her or not after already having spent years in the
relationship, the usual dumb boy shit. Though she was really bummed out
by the whole situation and was dying for him to make up his mind in her
favor, she also decided she wasn't going to sit around moping and waiting for
him to come around. She got out her little black book and called up Old
Flame #1, this truly sexy guy she'd never actually managed to get together
with. She took him out to dinner, showed interest, let the tension build,
made out with him in the car, suggested they go back to her place. Except
when they got there, there was Boyfriend sitting on her doorstep with flowers
and looking recalcitrant. Not the slightest bit flustered, my friend told
Boyfriend to stay where he was, she'd be right back, she just had to drive
this other guy home. Halfway back to Old Flame's house, she pulled the car
over and proceeded to have wild sex with him at the side of the road. She
then drove him the rest of the way home and went back and made up with
Boyfriend. And they lived happily ever after.
I meant to catch a movie at the Nick in Santa Cruz on Saturday so that I'd
have something concrete to write about this week, but I got
kind of a late start out of Berkeley and once I got into town decided to just
go straight to my friend David's BBQ instead. Upon my arrival I
was instantly surrounded by friends I hadn't seen or talked to in ages, and I
was happily stuck. Aimee and I snuck away to go get dinner at Mobo Sushi,
and I was pleased to have the company even if Sophie seemed determined to
prove to us why they call the twos terrible. This is my plate no your plate
is my plate too OK I'll scream if you don't anticipate my every whim now I
want to run around I don't care if you want to eat your own dinner. Full
credit to Aimee for being a very patient yet firm mom. Me, I was just taking
deep breaths.
From the restaurant we headed over to Jon and Sheila's house in Soquel to
hear some music. In the tradition of Cafe du Nord's awesome Monday Night
Hoots, Jon and Sheila were hosting their own
"Hoot with a View". They had invited a number of musician friends and
acquaintances to sit in their living room and play a few songs. I
know it sounds very Kum Ba Ya, but I assure you that these were top-quality
performances. At the end, everyone joined in singing and playing "Goodnight
Irene". I was sitting somewhere in the middle of the crowd, and it was a
blissful thing to be surrounded by that music.
Part of the reason I'd driven down to Santa Cruz that day was to attend
a little renegade party that was supposedly taking place in the general
vicinity. However, at 10:30 pm they still hadn't posted directions on the
info line, and I kept thinking how I had to be up on time the next morning to
be a greeter at church. So I gave up. I fought a brief inward battle about
whether or not to drop by Tammy's party in the city, but instead I threw on a
trance CD at earsplitting volume and attempted to pound the pain out of my
head all the way back to Berkeley.
You know that scene in Say Anything when John Cusack's character
stands below the chick's window blasting "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel
through his boombox in an attempt to win her back? That song makes me
crumble every time I hear it. Right up there with "He Holds Her, He Needs
Her" by Kitchens of Distinction and "We Close Our Eyes" by Oingo Boingo.
Instant heartache.
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Heidi J. De Vries
