Guitar Guy: Chapter X

Posted by Tilia

Last night was interesting.  The Guitar Guy saga is already sort of going stale at this point, but it’s important for me to say that for the past three months, the flirtation going on there has been a collection of some of the sexiest, most intense moments I’ve ever experienced, and it’s really tragic that 

• a.) he has a girlfriend 
  
• b.) he now knows that I know about her and
  
• c.) that I launched this blog after all the good stuff

Last night, it seemed like things were finally going to ramp back up to normal.  That’s really all I can hope for now, is that things end on a good note, rather than the initial happy-ending I wanted that involved an empty box of Trojans and several variations of the verb “to worship.”

So, when, at the beginning of the evening, he came to order food from me, and did it by walking at me until I was against a wall, and we stood nearly nose-to-nose, speaking about perfectly polite things, such as whether there would be bacon on the hamburgers, but with under-toned smiles that suggested so much more.

He asked me if he should pay right then, and I told him it was up to him, and then basically made the decision for him by taking his credit card.  I think, in retrospect, that he wanted to drag out the process so he’d have further excuses to come talk to me, but honestly, we should be beyond that point by now, and were before the Great Revelation.  

He said, “Just make sure you bring it back to me,” and I responded, “I always do,” with a bit of confusion.  He muttered something about having to chase me around for it, and I turned around, holding the card to my chest and said, “Would you?”

He flashed me a smile, and assured me, “you bet.”

So, that all went off without a hitch, and I danced around the first band set of the evening, thrilled with the indication that things were going back to the way they were, and should be, all the while flashing (and receiving) sex eyes to the stage.

When one of the back-up singers ordered from me a little later, I hurried her order so I would have an excuse to see him, but when I got backstage to drop it off to her, he looked slightly dejected, and handed me my credit slip, letting me know that he was just on his way down to give it to me.  

I suppose there would’ve been more banter if he’d made it to the deserted side station rather than having to hand it to me in the well-lit green room, but, yeah, he doesn’t need an excuse to come hit on me, and he should know that.

So, a bit irritated, I went to the bar to put in more orders, and was standing at the computer, with my back to the bar while he stood at the bar with his back to me, getting water from the no-nonsense Lead Bartender, a short, black woman with very little use for romantic ideals or people who move slowly or without efficiency.  

I didn’t hear this, because I was pissed off and distracted, but apparently she handed him his water, pointed to me, and said, “You two back together yet?”

Now, that’s enough to make me die by vaporization.  Who told her?  No one?  We’re that obvious?  What?

But, apparently (and mercifully), his response was to be startled, then immediately slightly amused, and he responded, “Oh, no … not quite yet.”

If you’ll allow me to bullet point again, this is awesome because

• a.) He didn’t even attempt to pretend that he didn’t know what she was talking about
• b.) he was amused, not horrified
• c.) he used the modifier “yet.”  This is exactly the answer I would’ve given.

However, I spent the next several hours obsessively demanding more detail from the waitress that overheard the exchange and reported it to me.  I feared that this confrontation would freak him out and distance him more, etc. etc. etc.

True to form, the eye contact was slightly more restrained for the remainder of the night.  Not as bad as Tuesday’s absurd “look, get caught, jump, stare and the ground for the next ten minutes” routine, but not to full scale by any means.

At the end of the night, when he was all packed up and ready to go, I dawdled around so I could say goodbye.  He tried to disregard me, so I stood and waited for him to turn and acknowledge me, and I said, “are you taking off?”

A bit stupidly, he joked, “Taking off my clothes?” and I said, “What right here?” 

He laughed and said, “A little later on.  It’s a private show.”  

“Oh,” I said, cracking a smile.  ”Is that an invitation?”

Which clearly startled him (two points for me), and he started muttering some nonsense about getting paid off by a table, which I asked if it was one of mine, and then upon confirmation said that it usually is.

Out of mercy, I cut him off before he could ramble any more ridiculousness, and asked him if he were taking off for the weekend, which is what I originally meant.  He said no, that he’d be there on Saturday, and I said,

“Good.  I only ask because I’m leaving in two weeks.”

“I know,” he said, “It’s sad.”  and I shrugged, wanting to let him know that it doesn’t necessarily have to be.

“Well, if I don’t see you -,” I said, and hugged him.  It was important for me to get a hug in there, as we used to hug constantly and inappropriately before the Great Revelation, but hadn’t since.  So, this was the first one.

He told me he was going to stick around and have a drink.  So, I wrapped up quickly and hung out downstairs while he drank and talked to EVERYONE IN THE ROOM BUT ME.

This marginally irritated me until he mentioned to my roommate (who is a Libra, and it was relevant to the conversation) that both of his parents are Libras, and then while she was responding, muttered under his breath, “As is my current girlfriend.”

At this point, I snapped, “Okay, time to go,” and grabbed my bag, grabbed my roommate, and swung out of the club.  I hope he feels like a dunce about it.  It’s really unfortunate every time I realize just how human he is and just how nervous I make him.  

It’s hotter to feel like there’s this supernaturally sexy guitar player who wants me, and that’s the most complicated thing about it.

Jenna and I got home, and then drank wine and talked about other lost opportunities to Gwags, that have always ended in too-little-too-late scenarios on their parts, where years later they confess to wanting us so badly then but how they tried to “do the right thing,” blah blah blah.  

I’m still kind of dejected about the whole thing, but at least, since it’s the Other Guitarist tonight, I’ll be able to focus on making money and not obsessing over making out.

~ by Shannon on July 18, 2008.