married men edition (part II)
i learned my lesson with the other one. started to check ring fingers like a whore checks pub's for lesions. i know. disgusting. but i was that determined. anyhow. i am performing moreso than before, because this was the time that the HBO started to inquire about the Punany Collective and being that I was in charge of publicity and promotions, we had a hectic schedule. anyway, i was busy - is the point. and performing ALOT. and it was during this time that a new drummer was assigned to the house band at my absolute favorite oakland open mic.
now the drummer before was an ass. bless his cheating heart. but this new drummer was really cute. with glasses and always a baseball hat. the difference between him and i was -- he was a classmate of my favorite aunt's. which was odd - cause he didn't look old. that said. i paid him no mind. thought he was adorable in a shy-type of way, but nothing more.
then one day, he tells me he has a crush on me. and the next thing i know - he wants to help me with my album. and im all down for that, considering free sounds good when it comes outta anyone's mouth. but i never let it get any further than that. hell, he was married and i wasn't going to hell for anybody.
weeks passed and he made it a ritual to come by the magazine office where i worked, and bring me a cup of hot chocolate. which was adorable. like him. still nothing on my part. i was as good as good could be. then he started calling me. which was fine. because we mainly talked about the album. then one day i paged him to say i wouldn't be in the office but we could me, at the office, at a later date.
maybe a day later, i get a page from his phone number. i return the call and his wife answers. now i've heard stories about his wife. taking advantage of his kind heart, marrying him so he could care for her two kids. all NONE of my business. so i greeted her like i would any other woman. with mutual respect. but she wasn't having that. she asked me what i wanted with her husband - and i told her (not that he had a crush on me) but that we were working on a project together. she then asked if there was anything else going on. i said no. she replied "well he wont be rendering his services to you anymore. so you can lose this number".
now im looking at the phone. and i lost it - momentarily. i replied "that has nothing to do with me. you need to talk to your husband." and i hung up. later i get a call from him and he's apologetic but also upset because she knows that he has been bringing me hot chocolate. i laughed. i didn't mean to. but im like - that's stupid. obviously, it wasn't. she arrived at my favorite spot that following tuesday, which also happened to be my birthday. obviously to scope out who the hell this hot chocolate stealing chick was!? and by this time, im upset. because its my birthday, i didnt do ANYTHING and im spoiled.
so after receiving an overwhelming number of birthday drinks, i wobble up on stage, pumps clicking the floor with purpose and i pose in front of the mic. he is sitting behind the drums and he looks at me sheepishly. before doing a special drum kick on that damn instrument. she is sitting in front of the men's bathroom which is also in adjacent to him.
her eyes are bulging and she's obviously heated. he still has his eyes on me. and i watch them both watch me for what seems like eternity.
then she does the inevitable. she rolls her eyes at me. like all her muscles had practiced the technique for 30 some odd years for just THIS occassion. i laugh. look at my table (which holds two of my aunts and my good friend) and i start the same poem that i wrote about mr adultery #1. this poem talks about him having a wife, it not my fault and what we can do regardless of her. it's a bad ass piece. definitely fantasy. but i rock it like a house breaking heffer and leave the crowd on their feet (it's oakland. they love raunchy ish - what can i say?). and to top it off. mr drummer man says YOU GO GIRL. THAT GIRL IS BAD. GOD BLESS HER GOD. and everything else to show his appreciation for the poem. while he slaps hi-fives across his wife's head and leans back in glee. she storms out.
obviously pissed. and i sit down. still high from the birthday drinks, but definitely feeling like i lost something in the exchange.
the next day i get a call from mr drummer. and he asks if he can come see me. says he has hot chocolate for me. i remind him what his wife said about his services, being rendered and all. he then invites me to the hot tubs (which is like a bath tub with luke warm water and benches covered in sweat and quicky stains). i decline. suggest he take his wife to the hot tubs. hang up the phone and head to the corner store for an extra large cup of my own hot chocolate.