I went to a wine tasting/art show a few weeks ago. The wine was way better than expected, and the art was, well art, which I’m pretty sure isn’t my thing. I often look at art hanging in public places and usually, it leaves me wondering; a) why someone was compelled to paint/draw/sketch that particular scene, and b) who thought it appropriate for the lobby/hallway/room of the building I’m in.
I usually never get either question. It’s just not my thing.
I had a great time though; the artist was pretty much every artist stereotype you can think of, including slightly drunk and overly affectionate to complete strangers; BUT, she was funny and gracious and it was very endearing. I hope she does well (and I hope someone was driving her home).
There was a funky guy playing guitar and singing everything from Patsy Cline and Willie Nelson to Green Day. He was far better than the average guitar-player-in-a-bar, but I remain quite sure the only person who should be singing Patsy Cline IS Patsy Cline.
It should be a rule.
Maybe even a law.
It was a quick date, but it was the date of my high school dreams.
He was on time, dressed nicely, and complimented me. He was charming and thoughtful, he opened doors for me and introduced me to the people he knew and I didn’t, he held my hand and stole kisses on the elevator.
I admit to being a little sad when he kissed me good night at the door, not because of anything that happened that night, but because it took me this long to find someone who treats me like this.
I've made plenty of bad calls along the way, sure. It's just that tonight, I'm equally sure that all of them together don't add up to not deserving this.