Stories of awkwardness (in two parts)

Awkward, Part I

Because I really have no clue who my target audience is this will be deliberately vague.

People can be peculiar creatures. Recently I've become aware of how a person in my recent past has collided with a person from my not-so-recent past. It's horrible. The delightful thing about the past is that it goes away. That's the theory, anyway. I'm beginning to think that it doesn't go away. Not ever. It just lingers, and you never know when or how it will crop up again.

My friends are familiar with a common refrain of mine. Spoken slowly, it goes like this: "nothing would surprise me."

And yet I am continually surprised. When will I learn?

Awkward, Part II

I saw David Wilcox in concert last Friday night. He was tremendous. My introduction to Mr. Wilcox come by way of Tim "insert forthcoming blog link here" Nardoni. He gave me a CD of David's music and I've craved seeing him ever since. He has this delightful ability to pick his guitar, tell a story, lapse into a song, continue picking, continue telling a story, and then say "the voices in my head are telling me to play this..."

When we got there he was just introducing a song about how we have our most honest conversations in a relationship when it's breaking up. And given that, how delightful it would be if we started relationships by having the break-up conversations first ("because, well, I have some patterns...").

I'm laughing along knowingly. And growing nervous.

When you're on a second date you're not at all ready to have that kind of honest conversation. I much prefer thinking that my companion is delightful with no noticeable flaws. And I much prefer maintaining the illusion within myself that she finds me the same way.

She was laughing and I was laughing. And then I wonder...why does she find that funny? I wonder what her story is like compared to mine? I wonder if she's had those honest conversations, and wondered why they didn't happen earlier?

When the concert was over my date said "that was terrible" with a lilt (I love someone with a healthy sense of sarcasm!). She said he was like Mr. Rogers for adults, "so soothing as he sings and tells stories. As you listen you just feel like you're ok and everything will be ok."

And so it is, and so it shall be.