June 01, 2002
4:54 AM

I'll take "Names That End In 'A'" for $800, Alex.


Unlike anything mentioned in that Alanyss Morisette song (or however the fuck she spells her name), here's something that is, in fact, ironic.

The harder you try to grab a woman's interest, the less interest she'll be in you. It's like they want somebody who's interested in them, but doesn't appear to be too interested in them at the same time. And no, this diary entry isn't the result of actively trying to pick up somebody tonight and failing. It's just the opposite, so bear with me. And in all fairness, I'm sure JOHN Doe has his share of paradoxes too (like "the Madonna-Whore complex"). But damn, so many women have been taught to follow these double-edged swords when it comes to attractiveness and relationships.

When I think back to the days when I DID meet women through parties, I noticed that. I've seen not only other men, but myself in this situation before: the guy is trying to talk to a lady at a party, the lady really isn't interrested, and then the guy tries harder. The harder he tries, the more uncomfortable the woman gets. The time can be better spent looking around for somebody else at that party. Hmm. Come to think of it, at those college parties where I DID hook up with a woman by the end of the night, it was never the first one that I talked to. I'm not too surprised.

But anyway, getting back to the present. Tonight I saw another friends' band play. One o' those bands with at least one guy who I used to play with in some other band. This particular one hadn't played in a while. Great show, though. Two bands were on before them. Now before I left work to head over to this show, I was thinking ahead of what I'd be doing. There wouldn't be too many people I'd know there, and it's a pain to talk to people while some other band is playing in front of you. Loud. And it's one of those bands you have to stand and watch and stay through until your friend's band comes on. Last time I got a meal there at the bar. Good food, and it took a good long time to sit there and eat. This time I brought in my book. And I finally found a chair nobody was sitting in, off the side of the wast-high stage, on the gound. Pretty isolated. Nice! I got a soda and sat down there. I noticed a lot of familiar faces from the other shows with the other related bands. And I didn't want to be a part of that on-looker crowd. I was happier way off to the side, diving into my book. It sure beats standing there facing the stage in a sea of wall flowers, watching some shitty garage band, while your wet hand is holding what's left of your over-priced cup of ice they call a drink.

And it's when I'm sitting around and tuning out the rest of the world that the women approach me. The first is when I'm still sitting there, before the first band when on. Maybe she thought I worked there. "Hi," extending a hand, "my name is Mica." Hmm, like the shiny mineral. Looking up from my book, a little disorientated from being snapped back to the club world, I say "Uh, hi. I'm Bill. No, BILL." I explain that no, I'm not in one of the bands. I just know somebody in one of them. She probably wasn't sure when she was going on. The whole show got delayed because everybody in the club was religiously tuned into the Celtics game on TV. "Well, I'll let you get back to your puzzle there." Thanks.

Some other lady asks if the other chair way in the corner was taken. "No, take it. I said NO, YOU CAN TAKE IT." Then a guy from the second band asks me who won the Celtics game. "I don't know, I wasn't paying any attention."

FINALLY, the second band is finished. I pack away the book and move to the general audience area, ready to see the band I came to see. They start playing, and now I remember that kind of vibe they had. Good musicians. I look over and think I see a familiar face. Is that the lady whose apartment I went to in Manchester once? For that after-party of Paul's band? What the hell was her name? Oh wait a minute...[squinting in her direction]...no, no it's not the same person. They just look a little alike.

But as the show goes on, and more close and personal friends of the band are up near the front dancing, there's one in particular who's straight in front of me, up near the front. Hey, I remember her. Wow, it was her. The last time I saw here was probably here at this same club, with the same band playing. Two years ago? Or was it even three years ago, when *I* was playing that night? I don't know. But it was that same woman. I could tell by the way she danced. I remembered talking to her last time. I remember a long, intelligent discussion with her. And I remember feeling a little crushed when, after talking so long at the bar, she went up towards the stage and was dancing very close to a presumed boyfriend.

But it was her. She was always somewhat average looking but...there was a really odd beauty to her. Something I found so damn attractive. She was not much shorter than me, I don't think. Kind of a flat frame. No nail polish. All those things that really turn me on, she didn't seem to have. Even when she danced, things were mixed. One half danced with a real expressive grace. The other half of her danced in an arm-waving slightly silly way. But I just wanted to walk up behind her as her arms were in the air, and grab those thin wrists of hers, and slide my hands down her arms to her shoulders and back that were exposed in the outfit she was wearing. She looked like she was in her 30s. And talking to her, I remember her being rather friendly and knowledgeable. It's like she already got through all the mind-game bullshit, and was living on with her knowledge.

We were all told that after the show, we were to go out to meet up in the parking lot. The band was playing over the late night time limit (no thanks to the delay from the Celtics game) and thus "breaking the law". So when the show was over, they wanted everybody out ASAP. Fine. I waited outside there, and nobody was sticking around. I took a seat on the wet wooden curb, holding my closed umbrella and the plastic bag with my book. Fuck it, should I get going? Nah, I'll wait a little longer. It's nice out tonight anyway now that the rain is gone.

I watch more and more people leave, but only two or three at a time. Then it's just me sitting there. The door's behind me to my right and I hear some woman comes out. She stops. She says "You look sad." I look up. It's her. Now the LAST thing I wanted to do was make it look like I was sitting and sulking. I shut down my arrogant "Fuck off" trigger mode. "Uh...No. I, uh..." "Maybe you're not 'sad' then, just tired." "Yeah, just...a little exhausted. Long week," I add with a little enthusiasm to show I'm not bitching.

We talk for another minute. She says "You look familiar." "Yes, I remember you. We met before. A while back. I think it was here, actually. I played with [so and so, in band such and such]." Now she remembers. She told me that in fact she used to date their previous bass player. "I think I remember saying to you 'Oh good! They have a new bass player.' I actually ran into him a little while ago...ugh..." "Yeah, I never met the guy, but I never heard anything good about him." (Funny, I ended up saying the same thing to the singer later on when I went back inside to say goodbye.)

It's late, and I can see her starting to turn to go, but I add a few more things and keep the conversation going quickly enough to not make it look like I'm being a pest. She tells me that the world needs more bass players for legs. Huh? "Excuse me?" Then she explains her dancing: feet=drums, bass=legs, arms=guitars, head=singing. Ah! So there was some method to her madness. We also talked about carpel tunnel, which as I mentioned, I think was part of what we talked about last time. She explained the surgery she had to get, from doing her glass cutting and other artsy stuff.

Once again that night, I got an extended hand to shake from a woman who started a conversation with me. But this time around I had to ask "Sorry, what was your name again?" "Barbara". The named seemed to fit. It's an older woman's name. It wasn't a cutesy name spelled with an 'i'.

And at some point driving home I finally remember the name of that other lady at the show, the one who at first sight I mistook for the lady who threw that party in Manchester. Her name was also Barbara. Weird.

(And I at least think that's the spelling. I noticed that Barbra Steisand and Barbara Walters spell their first names differently.)

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