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Categories: all aviation bicycle gadgets misc motorcycle theater Sun, 16 Nov 2008 A long time ago, in a personal galaxy far, far away, there lived a
boy, whom we shall call Ian. Now, this boy had recently experienced
the end of his first long-term relationship, and got himself into
theater to As it happened, he did meet a number of hot chicks, and was more or less paralyzed about actually speaking with them. One of them solved this problem by attaching herself to him, so the plan met with general success. However, before this aforementioned attachment occured (and practically in spite of it) our young hero (the aforementioned Ian) finally worked up the nerve to ask another of these hot chicks out on a date. It went something like this: IAN: [pre-dejected, trying to put on a brave face] Hey, I was wondering if you'd be interested in going to dinner at some point. HOT CHICK: [trying not to smirk] Oh, I'm sorry, I can't. I don't have free time for like the next two months -- I'm working on two shows at once. It's madness. Sorry. IAN: Oh, ok. Well, thanks. [SFX: cue wah-wah trumpet, "Loser" by Beck] Anyway, our young hero took this as one might reasonably interpret it: the hot chick in question was saying, clothed in a scant tracery of code, "I wouldn't go out with you if you were the last human standing." Of course (reckoned the aforementioned Ian), she couldn't say this outright, since she and our hero might end up working together at some point (the theatrical environment being as tight-knit and winkingly incestuous as it is), and then things would be awkward. Some time after this, our young hero (the aforementioned Ian) found himself in a relationship with another hot chick, so the matter became irrelevant. Except, of course, that it didn't become irrelevant, for the Seattle theater scene is a small one, and hot chick the first (let's call her M. for pseudo-anonymous clarity) and our young hero came into contact every so often. Now, M. (our heroine, if you will, for the purposes of this yarn) went off and got married and had kids shortly after our briefly hilarious scene above, and was by all accounts living the good life, which has only the most tiny bearing on the story, but is important. Now imagine, if you will, an analog clock face occulting the scene, and the hands spin faster and faster. Pages rip off one of those obnoxiously wasteful page-a-day calendars and fly away, faster and faster. About 8 years pass, and we are, as they say, in the present day (and in a personal galaxy considerably more like the one that exists as you read this). Our young hero is no longer quite so young (at least 8 years less young, in fact), and comes into contact with this M., our heroine, again. He is standoffish, having figured for all these years that she considered him some kind of inoffensive but essentially uninteresting freak. Imagine his surprise when she seems friendly, and not remote at all, as he had expected. Interesting! This is not a romantic thing, merely cordial relations, which our hero had not hitherto expected to exist. Our hero and heroine converse at a party, and words are said which confirm that cordial relations do in fact exist. This aforementioned Ian walks our heroine home (said assistance being graciously accepted, passing as they do through some of the less savory crowds available on Capitol Hill), as her abode is on his way home, and he is nothing if not chivalrous. They part on friendly terms, and our no-longer-so-young hero leaves the scene noticeably buoyed: M. had, in fact, had two shows she was working on, and was already engaged (albeit quietly and without ostentation) in a relationship at the time of the above hilarious scenic re-enactment. She was thus triply correct in her assessment that it was madness to consider adding any further complications to her life. Our silly-headed hero, it turns out, had been constructing from the whole cloth of his fevered imagination this supposed indifference all this time, all these last 8 years. Imagine his relief! Oh, I can no longer maintain the subterfuge! Yes, it is me we are discussing, I am the aforementioned Ian! I know, shocking, but I couldn't keep lying to you any more. It was a moment of minor personal victory to realize that this aforementioned M. (who shall remain essentially nameless for reasons too numerous to recount here) was actually perfectly friendly, and was not in fact maintaining some kind of bizarre "I turned you down 8 years ago and now never want to speak to you again" grudge. And it was perfectly timed to buoy my spirits, right when they needed a bit of a lift. In fact, part of our discussion at the party aforementioned was the retelling of our brief moment 8 years ago, which I had figured would have long passed from her memory (I'm not sure why my memory of it is so clear, for that matter). It was all very amusing, and means that my future visits to the aforementioned theater will lose the slight but noticeable tinge of tension I had imagined existed. I may even work on a show there again... Posted at 04:48 permanent link category: /misc Categories: all aviation gadgets misc motorcycle theater Written by Ian Johnston. Software is Blosxom. Questions? Please mail me at reaper at obairlann dot net. |