11:49 pm 1.9.12
Scene: the kitchen/living room in a spooky historical loft, just outside of downtown Los Angeles
I was getting my hair done a couple of days prior when the blip hit my radar. I have not decided yet how big or small that blip may be. It could be an eeep, a bleep, or a creep. But whatever it was, it wasn’t too shabby. Our first introduction was to follow a day without pants and an evening with friends at their band’s listening party at my friends loft space at the Brewery.
I started to get a barrage of texts asking about him as I left. The texts would continue through the duration of the date.
“My apologies, but I tend to attract the crazy ones.”
“What is he saying?”
“It’s irrelevant and likely dirty. He told me that if my date with you didn’t go well that he would be home alone later and… you get the idea.”
J was also in search of adventures and adores music. Yes, another musician and a recovering Midwesterner former actor from a land far far away. We discussed the nature of things. Of history and culture. Of tales of Ramona Flowers. Of array and disarray.
The connection, as the tone of the evening entirely, was fluid. Japanese whiskey paired with stories changed backdrops to this sequence of scenes as he and I returned back to my place to have a good ole dose of less fanciful potation: beer in canned form.
“I bet he texts again in 5 minutes.”
5 minutes later…
“Would you like to be kissed?” he asked politely.
It caught me off guard. I had been enjoying the night and hadn’t even been thinking about that, even though I had been thinking about it.
“Do you always wear undergarments this fancy?”
“I enjoy it.”
“Always wear some of that caliber or better when I see you.”
And so the requests start.