a morass of balls …

after the high drama of yesterday’s entry I thought I’d switch to a little romantic comedy (and anything involving romance and me is usually comic… usually black). Things have been going really well with Drea (aka Dre aka Dr. Dre aka Andrea). Last night we realized it’s been four months since we started seeing each other. Funny, seems like it’s been both a lot shorter and longer at the same time.

So how did we meet, you ask. Well, it was at a bar… now wait, before you imagine me in my fine polyester suit, rockin’ a line like: “baby are those mirrors on your clothes ‘cause I can see myself all over you…” it wasn’t like that. I was in the process of reconnecting with some friends after the Ives shows and on a whim I gave my friend Clayton a call. He invited me out to see a band called “Red Drum.” “Red Drum,” I thought, “that’s got to be cool play on the Shining. You know: Redrum! Redrum!” No they just had a big red drum.

Actually I almost didn’t go. Really. But I thought it made more sense to go then sit bored at home. Drea was in the same boat, a friend of a friend of Clayton’s out for the night. I got to the bar and there she was. I’m not sure what it was about her, but I was immediately smitten.

Where did the title of this blog come from you ask? Well that night, just after I got there everyone was playing pool and, in response to the lay of the table, Drea said: “Wow, that’s a morass of balls.” That really caught my attention. I mean how many people can work “morass” into a sentence without batting an eye (I know, I’m weird), so I had to comment. And with that, we began to talk and didn’t stop until it was time to go. Of course part of that might have been a vain attempt to drown out Red Drum, which turned out to be a mediocre at best bluegrass cover band (Van Morrison and Somewhere Over the Rainbow are not meant to be covered bluegrass style… AC\DC however is a-okay).

When it was time to go I asked if I could call her (basically I said “We have way too much in common not to talk again.”). Two days later on Sunday I got up the nerve to call. Unfortunately while waiting to leave a message on her machine, call interrupting… er waiting struck. That beep threw me off, as I wasn’t sure if it was for call waiting or for her answering machine. So it took a few moments for me to realize once her machine started to record. Then it occurred to me that it had been recording for a bit and I was leaving a “breathing on the answering machine message.” Now even more flustered, I managed to stammer something out about who I was and that she should call me before the machine hung up on me. I considered calling back, but having seen Swingers, I knew nothing good would come of that.

But surprise, she called back. And the rest, as they say, is modern history.