"Bros 'fore hos"
As promised, I shall bring you a presentation of my facts (Mike, Dave, and the Girl (whom I shall keep nameless, to protect the impression that she is sane, not "fuckin' crazy" (to quote Axl), in that she probably wasn't desirous of being "all up on my jock", though I thought she was, in the weeks and months following the three incidents) of the evening of 14 October 1999.
To begin:
I returned home from the first half of the first term of my sophomore year at university (Ripon muh'fuck' College, reprizent!), arriving at my home in 'Stallis 'round 5 P.M. Following that, I phoned (or received a phone-call from) -- it's almost six years later, I don't recall all details, especially the peripheral ones -- my friend-of-the-time Mike. He was to be heading to the posh east-side to attend a house-party on Cramer (think, 2860, or some such address; even side of the street, two houses from Locust, anyway). There, he would be reconnoitering with Dave, as well Mike's object-of-woo KKB.
He asked if I wished to tag along.
I agreed.
So, he arrived to my mum's to receive me for the ride to the lake-area around eight, and we drove over to the Labyrinth (a punk-rock crib at which friends of friends of Mike resided (they being better known as ARP)), which was about six blocks from the party-place. Never mind the walk, though; I could always use the exercise.
Plus, the walk went by quickly enough.
Once at the Cramer St. abode, then, we descended to the basement, I with my cup (paid 4$US for it, I think) and Mike without (designated driver, and under-21 (and did not, at that point, have so much the law-breaker character in him, i.e. he did not want to run afoul of "not-a-drop" rules)), to get on with the drink and socialize for a bit.
We did each, finding the drummer and rhythm guitarist for ARP in short order, and dishing with them for a bit -- I recall laughter, instigated by me, at my expense, shared, for me not recognizing right out the CD playing (Built to Spill's Keep it like a secret), and even though I owned it and had been listening to it a good amount -- and then finding Dave.
After some further chittering, chattering with him, enter KKB of Fort into the equation.
At that, we, as quartet, decided to take our conversation (hah! I almost wrote conversating!) to the upstairs -- first floor really, but to reach it, upward one flight from our then-situation in the basement.
We thus found ourselves seated in what should have been the dining-room, from when the house was first constituted, in the teens or twenties, with Dave adjacent KKB on the couch, Mike across from them in a Coachman's chair, and I next to Mike, in another Coachman's. We talked for a bit, though really Mike and KKB, with Dave inserting an occasional phrase betwixt He-Man grunts as he groped at KKB (he was on the outs with his girlfriend Elizabeth at the time, but anyway, he had never had a problem, regardless his own romantic situation, with cock-blocking Mike (bros 'fore hos, indeed)), me offering nothing as I was more interested in espying the dvd collection of the hosting party; also, checking out a pig-tailed blonde fillie, slender, in an Irish Fesh tee-shirt.
We continued on with this for about an hour and change, with the only change being my movement of my seat from next to Mike to the side of the coffee-table, so I was at three o'clock, rather than six, to Dave and Kristin's (I mean, KKB) twelve o'clock.
And, I was still checking out the blonde Irish (?) girl and fester, as she made frequent trips to the front-porch to either smoke, vomit, make-out, or "escape" from her boyfriend-friend with benefits-manmeat-gay best friend, or possibly all four simultaneous, and on-schedule.
Then, Mike and I left, around midnite -- he had to work the next morning --, Kristin continued to get the full value of her cup, and Dave the same, though any effort to mack the young lady was to no avail, as she returned to her dormitory housing (Sandburg, probably) and Dave slept off his drunk in his car (which he owned, having bought it from a dealer, but should not have been driving, as he never had gotten his licence; and, for all I know, he still does not have it, or it's suspended for reason of d.u.i.).
Over the course of the vacation, which ended 23 October, then, I never saw KKB again, and I think I hardly saw Mike. I did, though, take in fight club with Dave and Jerry (another friend of the period, and the only (unofficially) straight-edger among us; he didn't drink or dope, and he hadn't smoked since eighth or ninth grade (he was nineteen at the time of these events)), and of course I saw Ani (on a Tuesday?) with Dave. But, I didn't think much of Mike over the period, nor KKB.
Little did I know...
While Mike was still "in the process of woo" with her, making her mix-tapes, exchanging erotically-charged (literally, erotica; she would describe sultry dreams she had had, and he would critique them (hopefully, not getting his keyboard sticky simultaneously)) emails with her, and running into her in the Union, and making small-talk with her, and in competition at this with the erstwhile lead-singer of ARP for Ms Buchman's attentions of the dating-type, I think...
I don't know this with any confidence or empiric data at my side, but I think... KKB had, in the midst of Dave's groping and Mike's flirtation, taken a measure of me, as a man -- though maybe only in the Clay Aiken sense, i.e. maybe I set off her gay-dar, as she was not only a woman (and all women have gay-dar) but also slightly-gay (to wit: bisexual, or just desperate enough to muff-dive anyway) -- and had found me within the bound of what she would take. (On a scale of gov't cheese to roquefort, I probably rated a sharp cheddar. Not great, and maybe just passing (with an F+), but good enough.)
Plus, I had... I had not ignored her, but in the course of meeting her, I was the one of the three boys in her harem who hadn't made eye for her; in fact, I had been engaging in lechery toward another girl. I was to be more of a challenge for her then, moreso than Mike, and certainly moreso than Dave.
Forward to my next encounter with KKB.
My school radio-station, for which I was promotion director, had come into funding to host a local band showcase. Better said, I was going to have Mike's band play, as well as ARP, plus a real, live recording-artist (emotive indie-rock from... Burlington, Wisc.; I know, shocking) headlining, and it was to occur on ere of Guy Fawkes. So, I was in the Great Hall of the campus around four-thirty to set up, at which time Mike's father arrived with his son's band's equipment, save drums (oh, there was some drama there, but I need not get into that; it is too extraneous, even for my story-telling style), and I helped carry it in (Peavy stacks, guitars, bass). Then, one by one, the band's showed. ARP first, then Mike's, then the headliner (who almost didn't make it, for they suffered a flat-tire en route).
In Mike's band's entourage, we had Dave, Shamus McDempsey and girlfriend (Serena was her name?), Mike, and KKB. I greeted them all, and Mike greeted me, and KKB... I hardly knew this girl, had met her one time, had not gotten to know her, and, wah-bam -- first phrase from her mouth, "You shaved the chops. You look good."
Now, she could have been saying this just to be polite, especially if she and Mike were to have been an item, for she would have been trying to ingratiate herself to her man's friends. But, pointedly, Mike and KKB were not yet an item. In fact, best as I was informed, the former ARP singer was still vying, same as Mike, for a few weeks or months relationship with her.
So, I think she was flirting... with me!
Weird, eh?
I didn't make my move, though. It wasn't the place -- I was ostensibly playing emcee to a rock concert -- to flirt back. Nor was it the time -- not with Mike, who had his sight set on her, and other friends, acquaintances, and people I knew around.
I couldn't do it.
Plus, I wasn't absolutely sure of her intention. I was probably ninety percent, with that ten percent negative ratio being fatal if it proved dominant. (I never asked around about a girl, or to a girl's face, unless I had total confidence of success.)
Anyway, she pressed on.
I met up with her again just after Christmas, but before the New Year, when Mike, Jim (the bassist in Mike's band, and his best friend since fourth grade), Jerry, KKB, and I supped at Baker's Square (across from Barnes n' Nobley), and proceeded to a showing of sleepy hollow (save for Jerry, whom we had to drop at Target, where he pulled the third-shift as a night-stocker). We were at Baker's Square, dishing on our preferred books, movies, and bands, and I happened to mention my affection for Jimmy Eat World.
She gushed, while looking in my direction, "I love them."
Huh? She was certainly entitled to that sentiment, and to express it to the group, but to me, specifically?
Bollocks.
She was still trying to ingratiate herself to me, but not because she and Mike were in the way of a budding relationship -- why, he was still but wooing her, so had not asserted exclusive right to her (by which I mean, a circumstance where only he could re-transmit or -broadcast any portion of her without the expression written consent of the Commissioner of Baseball) -- but because... Jesus Christ, because she found me to be the best catch of the circle with which I ran, and she had become acquainted.
Bros 'fore hos, though; bros 'fore hos.
I didn't want to spoil a friendship I had had since fall-winter '95 for a fleeting romance with KKB, no matter how lovely she was in her impish glory. (The irony, of course, is that I ended up on the outs with Mike, et. al., anyway, around end of summer '00, when I couldn't abide their grifting and acid-eating, but mostly, their grifting, which wasn't meant to erode the dominance of the international-capitalist conspiracy, but, rather, to get them what they wanted (cd-burning implement, digital cameras, many cd) quickly and on the cheap, but, I couldn't predict the future.)
No, I couldn't accept her affection for brief, knowing that it would end, for perpetuity, my friendship with Mike, Jerry, Dave, Jim, et. al., the only friends I had ever really had (at least, for more than a school year), ever.
Plus, as it was, I was living in 'Stallis with my folks when not enrolled at school, and she lived in Fort. I attended the Mighty RC -- Paul Ranslow, where you at? I miss you... David Joyce just isn't the same, though I think he does run a ship of academe better (and, he's a preacher) -- and she, Milwaukee's Alternative to College (erm, I mean, UWM). And, I would be away within weeks (three, to be precise) to Madrid, where I was to be studying for a term, not returning 'til early June (the sixth).
So, even for the short-term nature of what would have, could have been a fling with her, time was not enough. Space was not enough.
Especially, the space, the place... Not anything of the hanky-pank nature to go 'round, between her and me, not when a friend was vying for her, semi-actively going after her.
Bros 'fore hos.
And, scene.
As promised, I shall bring you a presentation of my facts (Mike, Dave, and the Girl (whom I shall keep nameless, to protect the impression that she is sane, not "fuckin' crazy" (to quote Axl), in that she probably wasn't desirous of being "all up on my jock", though I thought she was, in the weeks and months following the three incidents) of the evening of 14 October 1999.
To begin:
I returned home from the first half of the first term of my sophomore year at university (Ripon muh'fuck' College, reprizent!), arriving at my home in 'Stallis 'round 5 P.M. Following that, I phoned (or received a phone-call from) -- it's almost six years later, I don't recall all details, especially the peripheral ones -- my friend-of-the-time Mike. He was to be heading to the posh east-side to attend a house-party on Cramer (think, 2860, or some such address; even side of the street, two houses from Locust, anyway). There, he would be reconnoitering with Dave, as well Mike's object-of-woo KKB.
He asked if I wished to tag along.
I agreed.
So, he arrived to my mum's to receive me for the ride to the lake-area around eight, and we drove over to the Labyrinth (a punk-rock crib at which friends of friends of Mike resided (they being better known as ARP)), which was about six blocks from the party-place. Never mind the walk, though; I could always use the exercise.
Plus, the walk went by quickly enough.
Once at the Cramer St. abode, then, we descended to the basement, I with my cup (paid 4$US for it, I think) and Mike without (designated driver, and under-21 (and did not, at that point, have so much the law-breaker character in him, i.e. he did not want to run afoul of "not-a-drop" rules)), to get on with the drink and socialize for a bit.
We did each, finding the drummer and rhythm guitarist for ARP in short order, and dishing with them for a bit -- I recall laughter, instigated by me, at my expense, shared, for me not recognizing right out the CD playing (Built to Spill's Keep it like a secret), and even though I owned it and had been listening to it a good amount -- and then finding Dave.
After some further chittering, chattering with him, enter KKB of Fort into the equation.
At that, we, as quartet, decided to take our conversation (hah! I almost wrote conversating!) to the upstairs -- first floor really, but to reach it, upward one flight from our then-situation in the basement.
We thus found ourselves seated in what should have been the dining-room, from when the house was first constituted, in the teens or twenties, with Dave adjacent KKB on the couch, Mike across from them in a Coachman's chair, and I next to Mike, in another Coachman's. We talked for a bit, though really Mike and KKB, with Dave inserting an occasional phrase betwixt He-Man grunts as he groped at KKB (he was on the outs with his girlfriend Elizabeth at the time, but anyway, he had never had a problem, regardless his own romantic situation, with cock-blocking Mike (bros 'fore hos, indeed)), me offering nothing as I was more interested in espying the dvd collection of the hosting party; also, checking out a pig-tailed blonde fillie, slender, in an Irish Fesh tee-shirt.
We continued on with this for about an hour and change, with the only change being my movement of my seat from next to Mike to the side of the coffee-table, so I was at three o'clock, rather than six, to Dave and Kristin's (I mean, KKB) twelve o'clock.
And, I was still checking out the blonde Irish (?) girl and fester, as she made frequent trips to the front-porch to either smoke, vomit, make-out, or "escape" from her boyfriend-friend with benefits-manmeat-gay best friend, or possibly all four simultaneous, and on-schedule.
Then, Mike and I left, around midnite -- he had to work the next morning --, Kristin continued to get the full value of her cup, and Dave the same, though any effort to mack the young lady was to no avail, as she returned to her dormitory housing (Sandburg, probably) and Dave slept off his drunk in his car (which he owned, having bought it from a dealer, but should not have been driving, as he never had gotten his licence; and, for all I know, he still does not have it, or it's suspended for reason of d.u.i.).
Over the course of the vacation, which ended 23 October, then, I never saw KKB again, and I think I hardly saw Mike. I did, though, take in fight club with Dave and Jerry (another friend of the period, and the only (unofficially) straight-edger among us; he didn't drink or dope, and he hadn't smoked since eighth or ninth grade (he was nineteen at the time of these events)), and of course I saw Ani (on a Tuesday?) with Dave. But, I didn't think much of Mike over the period, nor KKB.
Little did I know...
While Mike was still "in the process of woo" with her, making her mix-tapes, exchanging erotically-charged (literally, erotica; she would describe sultry dreams she had had, and he would critique them (hopefully, not getting his keyboard sticky simultaneously)) emails with her, and running into her in the Union, and making small-talk with her, and in competition at this with the erstwhile lead-singer of ARP for Ms Buchman's attentions of the dating-type, I think...
I don't know this with any confidence or empiric data at my side, but I think... KKB had, in the midst of Dave's groping and Mike's flirtation, taken a measure of me, as a man -- though maybe only in the Clay Aiken sense, i.e. maybe I set off her gay-dar, as she was not only a woman (and all women have gay-dar) but also slightly-gay (to wit: bisexual, or just desperate enough to muff-dive anyway) -- and had found me within the bound of what she would take. (On a scale of gov't cheese to roquefort, I probably rated a sharp cheddar. Not great, and maybe just passing (with an F+), but good enough.)
Plus, I had... I had not ignored her, but in the course of meeting her, I was the one of the three boys in her harem who hadn't made eye for her; in fact, I had been engaging in lechery toward another girl. I was to be more of a challenge for her then, moreso than Mike, and certainly moreso than Dave.
Forward to my next encounter with KKB.
My school radio-station, for which I was promotion director, had come into funding to host a local band showcase. Better said, I was going to have Mike's band play, as well as ARP, plus a real, live recording-artist (emotive indie-rock from... Burlington, Wisc.; I know, shocking) headlining, and it was to occur on ere of Guy Fawkes. So, I was in the Great Hall of the campus around four-thirty to set up, at which time Mike's father arrived with his son's band's equipment, save drums (oh, there was some drama there, but I need not get into that; it is too extraneous, even for my story-telling style), and I helped carry it in (Peavy stacks, guitars, bass). Then, one by one, the band's showed. ARP first, then Mike's, then the headliner (who almost didn't make it, for they suffered a flat-tire en route).
In Mike's band's entourage, we had Dave, Shamus McDempsey and girlfriend (Serena was her name?), Mike, and KKB. I greeted them all, and Mike greeted me, and KKB... I hardly knew this girl, had met her one time, had not gotten to know her, and, wah-bam -- first phrase from her mouth, "You shaved the chops. You look good."
Now, she could have been saying this just to be polite, especially if she and Mike were to have been an item, for she would have been trying to ingratiate herself to her man's friends. But, pointedly, Mike and KKB were not yet an item. In fact, best as I was informed, the former ARP singer was still vying, same as Mike, for a few weeks or months relationship with her.
So, I think she was flirting... with me!
Weird, eh?
I didn't make my move, though. It wasn't the place -- I was ostensibly playing emcee to a rock concert -- to flirt back. Nor was it the time -- not with Mike, who had his sight set on her, and other friends, acquaintances, and people I knew around.
I couldn't do it.
Plus, I wasn't absolutely sure of her intention. I was probably ninety percent, with that ten percent negative ratio being fatal if it proved dominant. (I never asked around about a girl, or to a girl's face, unless I had total confidence of success.)
Anyway, she pressed on.
I met up with her again just after Christmas, but before the New Year, when Mike, Jim (the bassist in Mike's band, and his best friend since fourth grade), Jerry, KKB, and I supped at Baker's Square (across from Barnes n' Nobley), and proceeded to a showing of sleepy hollow (save for Jerry, whom we had to drop at Target, where he pulled the third-shift as a night-stocker). We were at Baker's Square, dishing on our preferred books, movies, and bands, and I happened to mention my affection for Jimmy Eat World.
She gushed, while looking in my direction, "I love them."
Huh? She was certainly entitled to that sentiment, and to express it to the group, but to me, specifically?
Bollocks.
She was still trying to ingratiate herself to me, but not because she and Mike were in the way of a budding relationship -- why, he was still but wooing her, so had not asserted exclusive right to her (by which I mean, a circumstance where only he could re-transmit or -broadcast any portion of her without the expression written consent of the Commissioner of Baseball) -- but because... Jesus Christ, because she found me to be the best catch of the circle with which I ran, and she had become acquainted.
Bros 'fore hos, though; bros 'fore hos.
I didn't want to spoil a friendship I had had since fall-winter '95 for a fleeting romance with KKB, no matter how lovely she was in her impish glory. (The irony, of course, is that I ended up on the outs with Mike, et. al., anyway, around end of summer '00, when I couldn't abide their grifting and acid-eating, but mostly, their grifting, which wasn't meant to erode the dominance of the international-capitalist conspiracy, but, rather, to get them what they wanted (cd-burning implement, digital cameras, many cd) quickly and on the cheap, but, I couldn't predict the future.)
No, I couldn't accept her affection for brief, knowing that it would end, for perpetuity, my friendship with Mike, Jerry, Dave, Jim, et. al., the only friends I had ever really had (at least, for more than a school year), ever.
Plus, as it was, I was living in 'Stallis with my folks when not enrolled at school, and she lived in Fort. I attended the Mighty RC -- Paul Ranslow, where you at? I miss you... David Joyce just isn't the same, though I think he does run a ship of academe better (and, he's a preacher) -- and she, Milwaukee's Alternative to College (erm, I mean, UWM). And, I would be away within weeks (three, to be precise) to Madrid, where I was to be studying for a term, not returning 'til early June (the sixth).
So, even for the short-term nature of what would have, could have been a fling with her, time was not enough. Space was not enough.
Especially, the space, the place... Not anything of the hanky-pank nature to go 'round, between her and me, not when a friend was vying for her, semi-actively going after her.
Bros 'fore hos.
And, scene.
mandarin:
Moderation sucks.
monroe:
Oh, he doesn't even know about this, and I hope to keep it that way!