trying not to kill the messenger

So by now you may have gleaned from past posts that I have a mild infatuation with a certain folk musician. If you didn’t, I guess I am telling you now. But to catch you up to speed, I had to miss a concert Tuesday by said musician due to a scheduling conflict. I gave three tickets to my dear friend Ryan and arranged to leave the tickets at the door on the condition that he buy Joe Purdy a beer for me. Nothing more.

That was the one thing I requested. Here’s what happens you apparently fail to give detailed, written instructions to a boy. In my opinion, this is a perfect example of the deep chasm of misunderstanding that occurs between men and women every day.

[E-mail conversation from the day after. Text has been edited for brevity.]

ME: How was it?!? Did you have any problems getting in?

BOY: So, I had no problems getting in. I think they even knew that I was the one that you’d changed the name over to because the guy @ the door was like “Someone else bought them and switched them to your name right?” and I was like “Uh, yeah.” Then they let me in.

[Boy goes on to tell about the two opening acts and details the crowd. At this point I am skimming for any of the following: Joe, Kristen, loves you, beer, meet her, you two are soul mates.]

“As for Joe,” [Excellent! I stop skimming.] “It was great. I had an awesome time watching him. He’s from Springdale, Arkansas right on the Missouri border and after the show I went up and talked to Joe and he ended up introducing me to his buddy … So, I ended up talking hunting with them as well as comparisons between life out west and back home … I would’ve bought him a beer but he seemed like he was doing quite well with his big ol’ Makers Mark on ice he had.”

Editor’s note: Observe that a beverage was not purchased for said musician. Interesting detail: Whiskey is my drink of choice so this would have been a perfect substitute for beer.

[Boy goes on to describe conversation with Joe. They discuss living in the Midwest, L.A., travel, the Hardley Strictly Bluegrass Festival. At this point, I am getting a sneaking suspicion that I am not mentioned at any point during their extended conversation. There are two more paragraphs about the concert scene, chatting with Joe, and meeting nice people there, etc. I type the fastest e-mail of my life in response.]

ME: Excuse me. I totally missed the part where you told Joe that your friend Kristen gave you the tickets and was destroyed that she couldn’t go and insisted that you buy him a beer. And the part that followed where he was like – what? Kristen? I know her! I love her too! Dude, the man was drinking my drink. Tell me you told him that your friend Kristen is his soul mate and that he has to meet her. Tell me you had that conversation.

BOY: Oh, don’t you worry. I told him that you were devastated you couldn’t come because you chose Amos Lee over him. He was not happy though. He said Soulmate-schmolemate.

ME: you didn’t mention me at all did you?

BOY: I was really star-struck, then nostalgic once I started talking hunting. I can’t recall.

Editor’s second note:I can’t recall is a phrase defense attorneys tell their clients to say when they conveniently can’t remember a fact.

ME: I am seriously going to kill you.

BOY: No you’re not. You’d be lost without me. I’m surprised you made it as long as you did before I came around.

ME: This is probably true … On a serious note, it sounds like you had a good time. I’m glad you got to use the tickets.

BOY: Thank you again for the tickets. I totally owe you now.

[Upon reading this line I nearly combust.]

One thought on “trying not to kill the messenger

  1. Correction: While my one request was not fulfilled, Ryan went above and beyond the call of duty at the show. He has totally redeemed himself. Last night he gave me a CD with a personalized note from Joe: “Kristen, We missed you!” Thank you Ryan. You are now off the list.

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