100 Bad Dates: #62

Date #62 was a rock star. Okay, not a “star”, exactly, but he was in a band and you couldn’t tell him he wasn’t the hottest shit to ever hit that town.

Date #62 was a rock star. Okay, not a “star”, exactly, but he was in a band and you couldn’t tell him he wasn’t the hottest shit to ever hit that town.

We met on Myspace. In his first message, he introduced himself and asked me to the symphony. The show was the next night (tickets had dropped into his lap, you know, because he was a musician), so I barely had time to stalk and analyze his profile before saying yes. The more than 100 (not kidding) pics of him either holding a bass or singing told me all that I needed to know…

Yes, I’m superficial.
Yes, I’m a walking stereotype.
Yes, I agreed to go out with him simply because he was a musician.

The next afternoon, I received another message from Bad Date #62 telling me that I couldn’t attend the symphony with him because the girl he had originally asked could make it, after all. He said that, since he had asked her first, he had to take her. Now, he said this stuff straight up in his message, and I thought, “Well, his honesty is refreshing. I guess.” But it smelled a little like downtown crazytown, and I didn’t really have the time or energy for in-your-face truthiness, so I just let it go with an “I understand. Perhaps another time.”

A few days later I got yet another message, asking me if I wanted to go see his best friend’s band play at a local bar. A close friend of mine was a bartender there, and I knew that drinks would be on the house, so I agreed to go (I know, I know, truthiness. But, you guys, MUSICIAN!). Date #62 and I met up at the bar, and I was pleasantly surprised at how good he looked when not sweating and rocking out with his… well, you know. He was extremely tall, built solidly, and had red hair and a full red beard. Online he looked a little like rock n’ roll Satan. In person, more like a well-groomed Viking.

I got my drinko gratis on and was pretty psyched about how good the band was. They were hard, no doubt, but sometimes a girl just wants to get her headbang on, you know? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a little hairspray and eyeliner, people. The weird thing was that he had to stand really near the stage when the band was playing and sort of air guitar or whatever. I don’t judge people when they are being bathed in the rock. Still, he was a bit overenthusiastic and it was, how you say, slightly off-putting? Turns out he had previously been in that band and was “playing” his parts. Passion is great, but let’s keep it in check, Leif Ericsson.

After the show, we went to Denny’s (West Coast don’t do Waffle House) with Juice (yes, really), his from the band, and Juice’s girlfriend, who was about seven months pregnant.

“How was the symphony?” Juice asked me.

“Oh, uh, I didn’t go to the symphony,” I answered.

“This isn’t her,” Date #62 said. “That was another girl.”

I felt uncomfortable.

“Well, how was it, dude?” Juice asked. I looked to the girlfriend for some girl solidarity, but got nothing. She was busy making love eyes at her man.

“It was good. Real good,” he answered, and, thankfully, left it at that.

He walked me out to my car, leaned in close and said, “Hey, do you want to go to a party with some of my friends next weekend?”

“What about Symphony Girl?” I wanted to ask. Instead I just said yes.

“Oh, but don’t mention Juice’s girlfriend,” he said, “His wife gets pissed.”

Come again?

“Oh, okay,” I nodded, playing it cool.

“I mean, they know about each other, but aren’t happy with the situation,” he said.

I had to ask. “Does his wife know about the baby?”

“Oh, that’s not his baby. It’s her husband’s,” was his answer, like it was the most normal thing in the world. What the hell? My spidey sense told me that someone was going to get cut before too long.

“Oh, and Amy will be there, too. You know, the girl I took to the symphony,” he added.

What was I getting myself into? I found out on Bad Date #63 and brother, was it twisted!

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The Checkout Girl

The Checkout Girl is Jennifer Lemons. She’s a storyteller, comedian, and musician. If you don’t see her sitting behind her laptop, check the streets of Richmond for a dark-haired girl with a big smile running very, very slowly.

Notice: Comments that are not conducive to an interesting and thoughtful conversation may be removed at the editor’s discretion.

  1. “Oh, that’s not his baby. It’s her husband’s.”

    You’re dating life was like a rolodex of future Jerry Springer guests.

  2. you really, seriously, cannot make this shit u.

  3. Matt on said:

    At first, due to the red hair, beard, and musicianship, I was afraid that I’d be accused of being this person.
    However, upon completion of reading, I can happily say that my worst enemy in the world would not have accused me of such douchery.

  4. Wolf on said:

    Did you have high expectations of a date with a stereotypical band guy?

  5. Mariane on said:

    The keyword here is MUSICIAN. This is not an asset. Whenever this word comes up in the context of dating, it should be accompanied by the theme music from “Jaws.” (I know, I am married to my second MUSICIAN. da-dum da-dum)

  6. Christine B on said:

    “bathed in the rock” – i love that, what a perfect description!

  7. I also enjoyed “bathed in the rock”. These situations, they are crazy!

  8. Melissa on said:

    Accepting the premise that musicians are more likely to be cool, wouldn’t this study still have ended early after the evidence of him playing his old parts on air bass the entire show? Pretty sure you can draw your conclusions from there, but I look forward to date #63 to find out!

  9. I have this idea that every girl should lose their virginity to a band guy. It’s like getting immunized. You never fall for that crap again.

  10. Oh, ick, CA! Penicillin doesn’t cure everything.

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