So we had our first date on Saturday night, Miss Almost-Perfect and I. We spoke for the first time on Thursday night, after mucho swell e-mailing back and forth, and it was v. damn great - pretty much everything I hoped it would be when imagining the possibilities. Long, easy flow of chat about all sortsa stuff, and it all just happened - no stress, no discomfort, and points of view and experiences in common so apparently compatible it was kinda scary. But fer cripe's sakes, I know and we all know that so compatible it's scary is GOOD, right? Right, so shut up, ya big galoot.

Thursday night stayed up talking w/her all frigging night - finally hung up about 3 - and stayed up for a bit thinking and imagining. Friday was a steaming mass of contradictions - dread and angst from the lack of sleep, and feeling peachy keen and light from the endorphin overload of the conversation the night before. A couple short email connections through the day, and then the question becomes: will talking to her tonight to firm up our plans for Saturday night be as good as last night? Could it possibly be? Or will things sort of peter out and leave me or her or us with that "Whut th' h was I thinking?" mystery feeling?

The other weirdity on Friday was, I kept wanting to say to people, "I just had the greatest conversation last night - I spent 5 hours talking to this really cool woman and I have a date with her tomorrow night and she's just plain tee-riffic and and and and and!" I didn't do that of course..... much as I wanted to, if this doesn't work out, I'm not too keen on mourning it with "Oh, well, that really didn't work out so well" or similar ashy phrases of mild regret when someone asks me how it went. If nothing is said now, nothing need be said later. Which is preferable, considering the circumstances. Plenty of time to go ape over her later, if things keep on in that direction......

Friday night I got home, and I took a peek through the Phoenix to see if there was anything more groovy than "Dinner and um - something" to do on Saturday. Wow, here's a thing under Talks called "Transit Ramble" put on by the Boston Street Railway Association - she's into things like the history of subways and such, so this sounds perfect. Even cooler, it takes place in the Masonic Lodge at Boylston and Tremont, so that has its own charm - I've always wanted to see the inside of the lodge..... I rang her around 9:30 - nobody home. She's got this great phone message, though - "At the tone, ask me what ever you want," so I ask her the only thing I have to ask, which is, "Do you want to go out with me tomorrow night?" Part of me says, "Gad, you're such a goober, you've already made plans," but another part says "Shoot, I'd enjoy it if she did that, so....."

I told her about the subway thing as a possibility, and that I'd be up for a while, so call me if she has a chance. She has told me she's notorious for not calling people, but if she hasn't called by tomorrow morning, I'll call her again - she's not getting away with any Pavarotti running off to New York nonsense with me, no sirree bob. Then I went out to the garage - the car is disastrously full of crap, and needs me to dig it out from under its current accumulation of back seat effluvia. It's a filthy beautiful night - cold as your first grade teacher, but clear and so damn American night - as in Jackie D, not some ugly modern guh - so I dig the night and do the digging out. After about a half hour, I suddenly thought - lemme go check the phone machine -maybe she called. The entryway carpet (thanks, Mom) bunched up behind the door, as is its current habit, so I shoved it out of the way, and went into the kitchen - blink blink blink, be still my heart, rewind rewind rewind, "Hi, it's Miss Almost-Perfect....." Yes!

Tossing my jacket - um - over there somewhere, I have stuff to do RIGHT FILTHY NOW, dammit, I can't be concerned with where my coat ends up - I head into the living room - sprawl across the couch with nonchalant unconcern, and dial her number. I have already decided that it will be best to keep this call relatively brief. I need some sleep, as I want to be at my sparkling best tomorrow. I haven't been this keen on a first date since - well - hmm - Deb and I didn't really have a first "date," so I don't know if that counts - let's just say I have high hopes for this one.

So, I called, she answered, we started talking...... both determined to keep the call relatively brief, but for the right reasons - wanna have something to talk about when we're actually together, after all....... All of a sudden it was 4 in the filthy morning and we were laughing at things that just weren't funny and it's either too bad or a darn good thing we were not physically closer together because if we were I'd have driven to her house and taken her to the IHOP or some other all-nightmare eating establishment. That would have been fine, but then our first date would have been that, instead of a "real date" - which, for some reason, was important to me this time - real girl, real cool, real date - it just seemed to fit together.

We tried to get off the phone a couple of times, just like Thursday, and finally did. I was dreading the prospect of getting up at 10 to be able to meet JD and D-Man at noon - and worse, knowing that JD will not be there even remotely close to noon - but, still, completely pleased by the way Miss Almost-Perfect and I connect. Mild worries about the possibility of it not working out in person kept me up for at least two or three minutes........

9 am Saturday - I had another hour to sleep, but Mom called, needing a ride in to Boston to pick up her car this morning - urf, thanks a lot, just what I didn't need, but - filth, it's MOM! I was up, but brain was moving slooooooooooooow........... I told her I'd pick her up at 10:30..... Despite the fact that that's an hour and a half after I got up, I still had to call her at 10:40 to say I'm a bit behind. She offered to have George drop her off - I said sure, not thinking that this is a GUARANTEE of it taking at least 25 minutes to travel the 4 miles from there to here........ finally, we were on the road at 11:10, which wasn't too bad considering my tiredness and mom's classic tardiness. We discussed the trip to San Francisco, Sis, Nephew, Bro-In-Law, and the angst and pain of flying post-911 - good old mom. I dropped her off at Charles Street Station and headed off to D-man's.

Good to see him and Jellybeana - I have truly neglected this great friendship in the last few years, and this is foolish. He's happier than he's been in years, and that thrills me so. So good to see him out of the trap he built for himself after Valerie.

JD arrives eventually, and he brings me a filthy great X-mas gift - a psychotronic stereo record with a super great lenticular hologram in the cover - I haven't listened to it yet but it will be a gasser, I have no doubt. Gad, there's times I just love the heck out of that guy. The Yoko exhibit is - well - Yoko art. Conceptual art at the best of times is a dangerous undertaking - and Yoko's hasn't stood the test of time very well, in my opinion. I applaud her for the sense that I have that she tried like hell to dig through some emotional barriers to do the things she did, and I applaud the optimism that she seems to have decided to use in her work despite her obvious dour misanthropy, but, for the most part - her stuff sucks. Some of the visual stuff is ok, but most of it is poorly executed, fairly trite, and just so freaking easy - so much of it feels like the kinds of things I'd do at the last minute and then decide on a rationale for on the way to class......

But, I started out to write about the date with Miss Almost-Perfect.....

A few thoughts throughout the day - what if she doesn't dig me in person? I don't exactly have the body I want these days..... regardless of my future plans for in-shape-ness, this is NOW, goober. And then, what if, far less likely, I don't dig her?

Mom's call totally knocked me off my pins, so I managed to leave the house without Miss Almost-Perfect's address - but I know it's ## something......... Street Street, yeah, that's it! So I get to ## Street Street, and this is clearly NOT The right house. I am sure of that because she has been quite clear that she lives in "just an apartment," and this place's 3rd floor is a turreted Victorian top, so I'd have heard about that. Ok, good thing I have my brand spanking new cell phone, and I can call and say - "Um - oops." Turns out to be Otherstreet Street, which is OFF Street Street - well, at least I'm in the right neighborhood. Drive drive drive, park park park. There's a woman on the other side of the street - is that her? Nope - just a random pedestrian. Hey, that must be her sitting on her porch step. Cool - good job of avoiding the whole "We're on our way out, come in for a second" awkwardness.

She's cute - v. pleasing to mine eye. Mutual? Perhaps. We shake hands, and head off to the subway. A couple minutes of - "um, well, huh, hi, yeah, there you are in person" getting comfortable = and then it seems to be pretty ok. After an uneventful subway ride, we get to the Masonic Lodge, go in, and - oh cripes this is the monthly meeting of the BSRA, not just a talk open to the public. Great, Red, really good idea - here you are with this woman you dig and you're sitting through the financial report of this group of f-ing subway enthusiasts (average age - 55) while they drone on and on and on about the latest changes to the Bus schedules......... Is this a disaster or what?

Finally, we get to the "entertainment" - which turns out to be a video presentation by a guy who spent an entire snowy day shooting video of snowplow trains...... "Here's the train in Cleveland Circle.... here it is on Chestnut Hill Ave.... here it is going into Copley Station.... it's over 90 years old..... Look at the confused looks of the people waiting for a train - they've have no idea what this thing is......" This is followed by an interminable video of modern Toronto streetcars turning THE SAME CORNER again and again and again.... "This car is mislabeled, because as you can see, it's a 509 but it's running on the 510 route......" Oh, good plan coming here. I have NO idea whether this is going over well with Miss Almost-Perfect or not, but I'm not loving it. Finally, some good stuff - vintage films of streetcars in Los Angeles and Canada - and these guys KNOW STUFF about street cars - "that's a Model B518 - they only used those for one year in Toronto - they were quickly replaced by B517s, which had a different door configuration" - nutty.

I decided that I needed to loosen up a bit, so I did, and Miss Almost-Perfect and I whispered and made jokes, and I thought things were going ok, finally. Suddenly we were back to modern Toronto, watching a parade of antique street cars, and then modern stuff again, from Boston's own Jodorowski. I suggested we get while the getting was good, and she agreed. The Masonic Lodge is a beauty - the best part of the lobby is an ovoid couch with a FOUNTAIN inside it - I almost asked the guy to turn it on, but decided not to, because - well - I didn't want to have him say no. Sometimes, it's just easier to deny yourself than have someone else do it for you.

At this point, I was S T A R ving, and needed food fast. The Lodge is near Chinatown, and I started suggesting places to eat - Jakob Wirth's came to mind, and she said that sounded good to her - so, Wirth's it was. They've tarted up their menu - it's quite "moderne" now, oddly enough, though they haven't filthed up the decor, thank god. We had a bottle of wine and good food and good conversation - both of us a bit glassy eyed from lack of sleep, but - good. I told her I was really enjoying being with her finally - she smiled, looked down and smiled a bit shyly (?) and said, "That's good to know." I decided that that was a good sign, although the less secure side would have preferred something more like "Me too," or "Heavens, yes," or "Take me now, my stallion of love."

After we'd finished up, I asked her if she wanted to call it a night or keep on. She kinda wavered - my conclusion - she was tired, but wanted to keep on. So I suggested Jacques' - she'd either dig it or not, and that was important info to have. We got there right around 11:45 - Surprise! Jacques is a twelve o'clock club now. Whut the? So we saw the last two numbers, by someone or other and "Misery." Misery is frigging right - if this was the best Jacques could come up with for Saturday night headliners, something is W R O N G. Zola? Veronica Veil? Hello?!?!?!?! Get on the dragphone and find someone good! These girls weren't even DANCING, for crying out loud. PAY THET ICK. Another strike on the night's scorecard. Gad.

Hmmmm - call it a night? No, let's go see who's at the Lizard. Subway? No way - let's get there in time to enjoy it - Cabbie! Take us to Harvard Square, Pierre. This seems like the perfect answer - we can get there quick, but still spend some time walking to get to the club. She likes walking, and so do I. Cool.

Walk walk walk - hold her hand? Want to - but - hmmm - guess I'll wait. Goober. The Lizard - who's playing? Dunno - the sign has been erased. Guy gives us a break on the cover - sweet. Downstairs - The Spurs - a country swing/r-billy-ish unit, much like I'd hoped the Playboys would turn out - ahh, well. They are v. frigging ace - the singer cooks, the steel player KILLS, the bass player double cool, they rule. Coupla drinks, a little dancing, hey, that's Cranky Franky on the steel, that's Johnny Sciascia on the bass! It's the frigging Cranktones plus! Filthy cool!

Miss Almost-Perfect's a dancer - now I wish I had followed through on my plan to learn some swing dancing last year - and that I hadn't worn these Frankenstein boots - but whut the heck? I'm still a little tense - can't just let loose and dance - now is the time of losing weight, buddy bo. Still, the night is saved by the Spurs - or so it feels to me.

Miss Almost-Perfect does her thing of getting the cd and getting it autographed - nice to have a moment to watch her be herself away from me, and reflect - I really do like this woman. I think she likes me too. That's like, good and stuff.

Time to go? Yes. Coats on, up the stairs, out the door, through little Bohemia - sad, Dagmar's is gone, but litlle Bohemia lives on. Looking in store windows - talking - want to hold her hand, but also don't want to oog up the vibe - holding hands will change things in a way I'm not quite ready for, somehow. I know she wants to as well, so it isn't nerves - it's more like - not QUITE yet, thanks - but soon. Through the Star lot, over to Otherstreet Street.. Her street, Mr. The sidewalk is kinda narrow, and there are trees every 6 feet, making me drop back as we pass each. Ok, now it's handholding time, and I do something kinda silly - I'm not sure why, but it was fun - I say - "this sidewalk is too narrow, come over here and walk with me in the street," and take her by the hand to lead her there. She comes with me, and suddenly we are holding hands as nice as you please, and it feels just perfect. She busts me with ease - "This sidewalk thing was just an excuse to hold my hand, wasn't it?"

"Um, a combination of the two," which is true as far as it goes.

"But mostly to hold my hand, right?"

"Yes, right."

Smart cookie, this woman.

We get to her place, and I have to get her visitor parking permit out of my car. She says, "You could probably keep this, I have a feeling, but let's save that for a bit, ok?" Does the phrase "YES!" mean anything to you?

We walk up to her door, and start talking again. Likee likee like like. Soon will be the time of kissing, but not yet. We chat and chat - we sing some Tom Lehrer songs together - she REALLY knows the words, though I've forgotten most of 'em in the many years since I listened regularly. Then she sings Twisted, the "My analyst told me" song, and she's got a nice little bluesy jazzy voice. Like most people, she just needs to learn what to sing and how to sing it. We could have some fun with songs, I think. Finally, it's time - kiss kiss kiss. Does the phrase "That was very nice" mean as much to you as it does to me? She feels real nice in my arms, and our kiss is sweet and warm and worth every minute of waiting for it. Then a whole bunch more time standing and holding each other - sort of dancing, in a way - swaying our hips back and forth talking and kissing and just digging each other. Then, finally, it's time to go - one last kiss, she goes in, I go home.

Drive drive drive, think think think - yum yum yum. Mr 8 Ball says - Signs point to yes.

Music to tempt fate by:
Rough mixes of the Dog Toy sessions
"I got a letter from the desert - it was full of dirt......"

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See what I did there? I went and moved my diaryring to a rings and reviews page!