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Rock Stars

June 20, 2008

A North Dakotan Rock Star (also known as Audio Geek) called this morning. He nearly drove himself into a ditch while he was talking to me, so I’m guessing THAT kind of phone call (the kind where he’s working, driving a huge delivery van) won’t be happening again anytime soon. But he called.

When the Caterpillar was here last week, she and I spent a considerable amount of time on the phone and/or texting my favorite Rock Star. The kid is busy–three jobs plus a cover band that gigs every weekend–and so for the longest time I would try calling and he wouldn’t answer, which was understandable, but then he wouldn’t call back, or email me back, or myspace me or facebook me or use ANY of the available ways to contact me. And so one night I left him a sad, Oh Woe Is Me type voicemail that said, “Look, I know you’re busy, but if you don’t call back one of these times, I’m really just gonna stop trying.” He called back that night.

And from then on, he always called back, or even answered the phone, IMAGINE THAT. Like I said, when Cat was here, we spent a lot of time conversing with him. It was fun. There was definite flirting involved. But she left and I was already starting to get this feeling like I was doing all the calling and even when he answered it felt like he was doing it so as not to make me angry, not because he wanted to talk. It was probably all in my head, but I was tired of it, so I stopped calling. After one very enlightening talk with one very cool lady, and hearing (paraphrased), “I got to keep him because I wasn’t dramatic about it,” I realized she was really right. And that conversation came out of nowhere.

One of my friends believes completely and totally in signs, but she tries to find them everywhere. She gets overwhelmed when they don’t mean the same things or the things she wants them to mean.

I don’t look for signs. I just recognize them when they’re there. And that conversation was a sign. I backed off. I didn’t call until the other night when for my own sanity, I needed to. Not because I Missed Him So Much Oh My God, but I needed a mental escape from this house, and calling him seemed like the right thing to do. He didn’t answer, he didn’t call back that night, or the next day, but I didn’t push it. I didn’t call eight more times. I didn’t email him. I didn’t text him. He had the information I wanted him to have, and I figured he’d get a hold of me when he knew what to do with that info.

He called this morning, and we had the longest phone conversation we’ve ever had, ended only by the fact that he A) nearly drove himself into a ditch making a delivery and B) had to make the delivery.

He has a new myspace profile picture, and he looks amazing in it– playing guitar, white screened t-shirt, black felt hat with a checkered band– totally yummy. I refrained even from commenting on it. I wanted to badly, but I was stepping back.

Today, he was telling me about the band he’s in and how having a regular gig and having some of the same people come out every weekend really makes you feel like A ROCK STAR. His buddy, the drummer, has had a cougar after him for the past few weeks, and when he jokingly said, “You’ll have to check with the wife,” after being propositioned, the lady went and ASKED HIS GIRLFRIEND if she could take him home with her. Rock Stars indeed.

So Audio Geek says to me, “Yeah, I feel like I rock star all the time,” and that’s when I remembered that picture, and I said, “OMG, C– you LOOK like a Rockstar. I LOVE THAT PICTURE.” and I almost said, “Can I marry you?” but thought better of that.

We’re seeing each other in a week and a half. We just worked it out. I wish I could see the band play, but I do get to hang out at practice. The first time I “met” the drummer was on the phone after one of my and Audio Geek’s first “dates.” Drummer Boy was telling AG to just have hot passionate sex with me already, AG was telling DB to grow up, and then out of nowhere the phone just got handed to me.

“Hi, Courtney?”
“I’m [Drummer Boy].”
“How are you doing tonight?”
“Oh, I’m just fine, how are you?”
“I’m great. I hear you’ve been spending some time with my buddy [AG].”
“I guess I have.”
“You like him?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“You taking care of him?”
“He doesn’t really need much taking care of.”
“But you’re taking care of him when he needs it, right?”
“If he needs to be taken care of, I’ll be there.”
“Good… Courtney?”
“That kid needs a good girl in his life.”
“Well, I think I’m a good one.”
“Good… Hey! So what do you play?!”
“Um… piano? And I sing…”
“You need to come jam with us!”
“Um, I don’t live in ND.”
“Well make a trip!”
“I will be there in July.”
“You officially have to come hang out with us.”
“We’ll see… Want to talk to [AG] again?”
“Yeah, hand him over.”

and then I hear through the earpiece, even though AG’s got the phone again: “DUDE. You need to POKE that girl.”


Those boys are good friends, but I’m glad AG doesn’t let DB rub off on him, so much. And I have to be at that band practice.


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