I haven't been talking about my dates as of late. Trying to be church mouse about it. It has been steady. There have been some dates - none, horrific, and none, rocking my socks off. I have said it before - it is my lackadaisical approach. It is not a choice. It can't be helped.
But I will venture out now - because I got a big mouth? - no, just because one "date" is party to the following story.
Remember the guy I call The Flirt? Well it is interesting. He is actually more shy than his emailing and texting forwardness would have me believe. He calls me, emails me, or texts me everyday. Yet, I am just not that into him. I see him more as a friend. A friend that I kiss so I am possibly sending him mixed messages. Or maybe he will grow on me? Nonetheless I have gone out with him a few times. Most recently, Wednesday night.
The night is best summed up as follows:
Bon Jovi As Lounge Act
The Flirt emailed me late afternoon Wednesday to see if I would like to get together. Now, I'm not big on going out during the week, especially when I had been out Monday night and had plans for a late night on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. But because of recent stress I wanted to get out. And male attention is not a bad thing.
I agreed to a drink. Two martinis later I agreed to dinner. So off we went to a little Vietnamese restaurant. Saki was sipped. And then I found myself agreeing to having a beer. So off we went to the little piano bar across the street.
At the piano bar, there is a.....Piano Man! A guy with a piano with a schtick because Piano Man was doing his best gruff Tom Waits voice. Some may find that annoying but I kind of like a guy who doesn't actually "sing." Like The Flirt was doing (and does on most of our dates). I always get these "creative types" who hold professional jobs by day so they let out the creative spirit tenfold. For some reason, I hate guys singing from front to end, i.e., the whole song! That's fine - sing along softly, sing the chorus, sing a line in my ear. Just don't do your own performance. We've got Piano Man for that! I think The Flirt was doing his own little lounge act.
Before you ask, yes, Piano Man did play....Piano Man. Cliché police arrest that man - or me. At this point The Flirt leans into me and says something about singing this song related to something about when he played his guitar for me last week. (I was serenaded! Still, only a teensy bit of me minded the singing. Because it was accompanied by the guitar afterall. It was no a capella car-singing gig. And there is little sexier than a guy with a guitar.) Anyway, because I can't hear EVER, much less in a crowded bar I said, “Oh, is this a song you played for me?” Because there were many songs he serenaded me with. He took requests. See? It was a gig.
“No, silly, this is a piano song.”
“Big deal. That might be kind of cool to play on the guitar. Irony? Tori Amos did it with Nirvana songs. Therefore, I think you should learn it.”
I don't think he thought it possible. But I know there is a whole world of possibilities with which to reconstruct music. Take it outside its normal boundaries. I know, because I witnessed the following that night. I quite possibly saw it coming because he had just played The Band - on piano. This guy was on a roll with re-contextualizing songs. Into lounge form.
Piano Man informed the drunk sing-alongers that he was going to leave for a 10 minute break. But before he broke, he gave the crowd a teaser, “When I come back I will play something from New Jersey!”
Just like that. So the guessing began. The Flirt says that is has to be Bruce. I pipe in with the “but what about bon jovi” idea. The Flirt considered this but thought that Bruce was the more appropriate artist. His music being more translateable to a piano.
After the 10 minute break, Piano Man takes his position as Wednesday Night Lounge Act in Georgetown. Singing for dollars and pleasing crowds. Fame and glory or dashed dreams. Anyway, he started that little diddy "...from Jersey."
My friends, it was, in fact, “Living on a Prayer.” The piano version. As only a lounge act with a schtick knows how to play.
Of course, this was sung out loud. By the whole bar.