Friday, January 18, 2008

Mixed Bag

My ew-o-meter was reading off the charts tonight. I haven't been in a bar in well over a dozen years since a visit to my Uncle Jules (who was tending the bar in question). The establishment I entered tonight to hear and see Don play bass was definitely a bar. Some strange creepy man sent his friend over to 'approach' me despite the fun comparison of wedding rings by myself and two of my companions after discovering we have the same ones. (Ew.) Said strange, creepy man then proceeded to point at me, draw a heart in the air, and then point at himself. (Super-gigantic, extra-humongous, golly gee whiz, EWWWWW!!!) I responded by gesticulating wildly at the stage and using my apparently nonexistent powers of telepathy to summon my spouse to my side. The people I was sitting with were wondering if Don would burst into flame, or just what might happen in response to my gesticulation. (These were new acquaintances from our church. We shall see if they say "Hello" to the crazy lady on Sunday.)
Don has a wireless thing-a-majig that keeps him plugged into his amp even when he moves off the stage to be he-manly and protect his freaked-out wife from a strange man. Okay, it could allow him to do the protecting. Unfortunately, as previously indicated, my telepathy failed. My spouse played the last few songs of the set on stage across the room from where I sat twitching and wanting to run away.
I just wanted to go say, "Yay! You play bass. Yay!" The goal was to support my spouse, and hopefully hear some good music. I was glad to have the opportunity to say "Hi!" to a couple of friends from our former church home who came out to see the show. I was also glad to meet a few new acquaintances from our current church. I just couldn't quite get passed my contentment with being a happily sheltered suburban mommy and wife who cannot figure out how to calmly and kindly deflect a random pick-up. So I freaked out. It's often what I do. If there is such a thing as a bar ministry (well, one that doesn't involve twelve steps), I am not likely to be cut out for it. Ew.

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