Meet The Musician

My first date with The Musician was nice. I organized a date at a place that wasn't open on a Sunday, so we ate next door.

We sat at the sushi bar and The Musician properly introduced himself, "So I'm [first name, last name], I live [here] and I work [here]." He said it comfortably and confidently that I knew he must have a lot of experience with on-line dating. I did it for a month last summer and went on some very mediocre dates before I met Adam. The Musician was my second meeting this time around; I had started the day with a very mediocre lunch with my first date and was still rusty at the whole blind/Internet dating thing.

We talked a lot about his band; it's what we have the most in common. I originally e-mailed him because I recognized his screen name's association with the band's name. While I had never seen him perform, all of my friends have and they are obsessed with him.

We huddled our heads together over the rolls we decided to split as I went over my karaoke list of songs I sing and he matched them with his set list. We both still dig the 80's music in a major way: Blondie, Bon Jovi, Journey, Guns 'n Roses, B52's, Huey Lewis & The News. I told him about my 80's-themed birthday party I just had and how my friends wanted to get his band to perform, but we couldn't afford them.

"What do you mean you don't know 'The Humpty Dance'?" he asked, astonished.

"Nope. I remember the very first music video I ever saw--it was 'Baby Got Back'--but I don't know 'The Humpty Dance'."

So he leaned in closer and quietly rapped me "The Humpty Dance" as I giggled over my spicy tuna and Sapporo. He was half-goofy and half-nerdy and I thought it was the perfect combination.

"We're actually playing next Saturday," he said, "I'm a completely different on-stage than I am in-person. On-stage I'm outgoing and zany and in person I'm quiet."

"I don't think so."

"You don't?"

"Any person that raps me a song in the middle of a sushi bar isn't shy."

"Yeah, well you should come to my show."

"I'll bring it up with my friends. It's one girl's birthday and she is your biggest fan, so I don't think it will be too hard," I winked.

Thursday, I sat at my desk at work, still frustrated with what's turning into the most unprofessional commercial website in the history of teh Intarwebs when "Sweet Child O' Mine" began to play on my phone.

"I would be lucky if you came to my show on Saturday," he propositioned.

"We're coming. See you there."