Evensong

I saw him the first night I had a karaoke show there. Someone had put in a song request for a guy with a nickname, and I was left to guess who the guy was. Standing in the dart room with long, curly dark hair, I figured he was the kind of guy who would have a nickname and I approached him.

"Hey! Are you by any chance {nickname}?" I ventured.

"Fuck You, no!" Ok, so obviously I had offended him. I might've raised an eyebrow or two, but I definitely did an about face and headed to my next guess.

From then on, I just kinda ignored him. I was in a relationship and I don't tend to look around when I'm in that situation.

Then he started showing up at the end of my shows. He asked if he could help me carry my equipment to my car, and stated that he was in a band, so he knew how to handle it.

"Everyone's in a fucking band. Please don't touch my shit." These are the first words he remembers hearing out of my mouth. He obviously had every right to come to the conclusion that I was a mega-bitch.

He still showed up, though. He still offered. Sometimes, he tried to insist. "Lemme carry your equipment!" he'd almost beg. I nicknamed him "Lemme" after a group of his friends came to a show one night. Once I saw he had friends and people, he didn't seem so scary.

The relationship I had been in had tanked. Hell, even my rebound had tanked. One night, feeling less than stellar, I decided to get a little extra glammed up. I wore a corset top and a strapless bra, but had one issue: due to weight loss, the bra didn't necessarily fit properly. So I redneck-remedied it with packaging tape. By the way, this method? Not very highly recommended. That crap pulls! And crinkles.

Like usual, Lemme showed up at the end of my show-except this time, I was glad to let him assist! As we were carrying speakers to my car, he heard my chest make a crinkling sound...and I told him why-that I had packaging taped myself inside my bra.

"That is NOT fucking ok," he said, seriously. "Nobody deserves to be taped! Why would you do that to yourself?!"

After we finished getting the equipment loaded, we sat on the bench outside of the bar where I had just finished my show. Lemme had a name. Lemme was a bass player in the house band for the same bar, and his band had just signed a record deal. Lemme said I was beautiful and needed to get comfortable, STAT. Lemme gave me permission to feel ok in my skin and complimented the hell out of me when we had (very G ratedly) gotten the packaging tape off! (Nothing sexual, not even remotely. It was definitely more Judd Apatow than Shakespeare In Love!) We went into the bar and kept talking. The bar closed, and I still didn't want to stop talking with this guy. Of course, it was nothing romantic or sexual-I really thought he could be a great person to know and put him square in the friend zone. Otherwise, I would have never grabbed a Lotto scan tron sheet and written my number on it and handed it to him. I would've worried too much about looking needy, or coming off too strong...

There was nothing about this that screamed at me about him other than: I really enjoyed talking to him.

I had a text before I got home. A couple of messages were exchanged, but nothing serious or even remotely innuendo-filled.

Lemme was going to be a friend, of this I knew. We had a lot of the same ideas and though processes, and we smiled and laughed at the same twisted humor. On the bench, it was nice to finally talk to someone who understood gigs and shows and equipment. There were so many things I could have picked up on. In fact, a mutual friend who was outside for a part of this exchange later told us that he knew that night that we were on to something-that something was happening between us. Me? I knew Lemme was a bass player about to take off. This single mama had just had her heart run through a gamut. Lemme was not a safe bet-he was the wild card, and I'd had enough of them, thank you. Great friend potential- but completely out of the question as far as romance.

Before we left the bench, Lemme did offer that if I was ever not safe to drive home, I was more than welcome to his bed, since he lived two doors down. He promised he'd sleep on the couch or that he'd be the best platonic bed buddy ever. I appreciated the offer, but really never anticipated needing to use it. If I drink two glasses of wine, that's one too many for me! I take precaution and am very responsible... why would I ever need a place to land?

Six days later, so much would change.

I didn't know, how could I know? I always believed you could choose how you felt about someone. Lemme has been my wake-up call that sometimes, there's a bigger plan. I'm grateful I'm a part of his.