I went to a concert last night with Wine Guy and I remembered so many things that I forgot to tell you. The problem is, I don't think I can remember them all. Partially because my mind was clouded (in a slightly illegal way), and also because the show was so amazing that after awhile I stopped thinking about all the blog entries I still needed to write and just enjoyed the experience. So I apologize in advance for not being able to possibly recreate the amazing posts I had written in my head while watching/listening to Ani DiFranco's electrifying musical poetry.
First let's get this taken care of. Yes, we went to see Ani DiFranco. And no, I didn't have to drag him. In fact, he's the one who took me. Which leads me to the first thing I realized I forgot to tell you.
I an proud to say that Wine Guy is my lesbian boyfriend. And I have said this to him on many occasions and not once has he objected. It's not that he's a pushover. He is just that comfortable with who he is.
He is not a "guy's guy." Nor has he been emasculated. He's not a "metrosexual" (three black t-shirts to his name, two of which have holes, pretty much make that case for me), and he could give a crap how I decorate, so it's not that he's effeminate either. Hardly.
He's just a PERSON, not a "guy." And since I have never even come close to meeting a man quite like that before, the only thing I have to compare him to is the fantastic women I've come to know and love (platonically) over the years. Except he has a penis. And we get naked. So, in my book, that makes him my lesbian boyfriend. Get it?
Wine Guy's been an Ani fan for years and has seen her countless times in concert. My first show was last spring, which WG also took me to. I enjoyed it but, since we were in that very early impress each other phase - and it was the first time I met a good female friend of his - I spent more of the night trying to make a good impression than I did enjoying the show.
Last night was an entirely different experience for me. First of all, the audience was 90% women, so the vibe was mellow and respectful. Everyone stayed in their seat and just appreciated her performance with the band, reacting to her powerful lyrics (which have evolved perfectly from the angry lesbian songwriter I fondly remember from college to the angry liberal -- married with a baby - today). I can't tell you how many times I wanted to shout, "That's me! She's talking about me!" Except if I did, I suspect every woman around me would say the same thing.
Besides the audience and the performance, the setting was terrific. It was at Humphrey's, a small outdoor venue on San Diego's Shelter Island. So while the music swells, you are treated to cool ocean breezes and a view of the boats in the harbor (plus a bunch of kayakers tied up just outside enjoying a free show). A beautiful night.
Before the show, WG and I were walking around getting "cloudy" and he started telling me about how he remembers staying right there on Shelter Island as a teenager visiting San Diego with his parents (he is from Denver originally). Then he started talking about all these weird connections he's had over his life to San Diego, before he ever moved here a few years ago. Some pretty amazing, "small world" stories. Which lead him to say, " It's like I was meant to come here or something. I wonder what that's all about?"
I don't know about you, but it seemed pretty wonderfully obvious to me.
I turned to him with a little smile, "Maybe it was for me?"
Here's something else I forgot to tell you. Wine Guy is very unromantic. He hates sentimental statements. Such as one I made when we first moved in together that went something like this, "I'm so excited we are starting our lives together."
He rolled his eyes. Yes, it hurt my feelings. But I also know he hates that kind of cheez. No matter how true it may be.
So I was understandably a little tentative when I said this to him; that perhaps his whole life's purpose from his teenage years to now was to get to San Diego, go through a few girlfriends, and meet me -- the love of his life (my words here, not his).
Of course, I didn't say all of that. Just a couple of words accompanied by a little tap on my chest and a knowing smile. At first he laughed. For once, I didn't say anything overly reactive or insecure in response. I just let the moment, and the thought, sink in. I'm glad I did. After his laugh subsided he kind of slowed and said, "Hmm. Maybe." And grabbed my hand.
If that is as romantic as he gets, I think I'll take it.
So many things I am still forgetting to tell you. But I'm sure they'll come to me eventually, so perhaps another time.