Friday, March 12, 2010

Flashback Fridays: How Twins are Made, Part II

So Babymommadoc and I studied together, and it didn't really lead to anything that night.  But it led to some stuff that would eventually lead to some other stuff pretty soon.  To whit: we started hanging out with the same group of people and going to the same social events.  And in Charlottesville in 1991, there was only one social event that mattered, and its name was Dave Matthews.

I know your jaw just dropped in disbelief at how cool I am.  Or was.  Sammy Hagar pants, mullet, and now this news that I saw Dave in his heyday.  In fact, I partied with Dave.  He was at my house the first time I made my future wife cry by being a total dick.

In college, I lived in a house that a former girlfriend described as being like the movie Hellraiser in that it was an alternate universe offering the ultimate in pleasure and pain.  I never saw that movie, but I think the characterization is fairly apt.  Maybe a little overstated.  There were four of us in the house (a duplex, the other side of which was the unofficial house of one of the African-American I mean "fraternities" on campus...oops, I mean "grounds"), and we each had a special role to play, like a band of superheros.  There was the politico (student council president even), the snooty architect, the gay club kid, and me--the grit.  Every Tuesday, we would drink beer at home until after 11:00 and then walk over to this stanky joint called Trax to check out Dave.  After 11:00 the cover charge went down to two dollars, or free, depending on the whim of the bouncer.

So Babydoc started hanging out at the house and going to see Dave, who she thought was cute, but otherwise never saw what all the fuss was about.  I was trying to weasel out of a relationship, and so was she, and I was pretty sure she was vibing me.  Especially after our mutual friend English Tim said, "Are you bloody stupid?  She's throwing herself at you, mate."

One night after the weekly Dave show, I got Babydoc to drive me to Lucky Seven for some cigs (a habit which she later broke me of by strategic use of tears and shame), and she busted a move.  She asked me out to dinner at some unspecified time and place.  And then I leaned in toward her and gently took her hand, our lips searching for contact as the streetlight glinted off the Jesus fish hanging from her rearview mirror.  Did you just throw up in your mouth a little?  Me too.  Let's just say that we were kind of like a couple of middle school kids going steady for a while after that.  Seriously.  


  1. Ha ha. Are you sure about your timeline? I though by that point you were minus one club kid and plus one snooty architect.

  2. I blended some of the elements of the story. Snooty architects are pretty much interchangeable.

  3. There's a lot of them in San Diego. My friend used to date one who introduced us to many others.

    I'm enjoying this story.. It's like watching House because I have to keep waiting a week for the next installment. Also, I can't believe you were ever a total dick. Thank Mommadoc for me for the influence she's had on you.

  4. "strategic use of tears and shame". Beautiful.

  5. To whoever said that you can't believe he was ever a dick..he's lying.He really was a soft-hearted blob of mush. I don't remember what year it was but it was sometime around that time... my husband ditched me and took all of our Christmas money. Andy took us in over that Christmas and was super brother/uncle.

  6. Thanks Luvmtback. Just goes to show you can never trust what authors say about themselves. I'm so glad Andy was there for you during that experience.

  7. And uh oops, sorry I misspelled your user name. It's the morning here in Italy..

  8. I threw up in my mouth a little.


Don't hold back.


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