this is the story of a girl...

I have this friend who used to be in a band.

You might have heard of them.

Anyway, I use the word “friend” loosely…or rather, creatively. In this instance, it’s sort of like:

Friend  /frend/ (n): this super cute guy in a band that I fell in love with on the spot one day back in 2000 when I was standing in Nordstrom and their video came on and I wasn’t really paying attention but thought to myself  “oh hey, I like this song!” and so I glanced up and almost fainted right there at the register… and who, today, calls me by name, kisses me hello every time I see him and makes up mind numbingly elaborate stories denying that the songs he writes are about his surreptitious and undying love for yours truly (even though we all know the truth...“I love a girl in California, but I married a girl up in New York”? you’re not fooling anybody), but who definitely does NOT call me on the phone and ask to go grab lunch or take our boys on a playdate or something. Heavens no, that would be absurd. So is he technically my “friend”? Well, Potato, Po-tah-toe.

Anywhoo….Pretty sure I left the mall that day with the CD in hand, devouring and memorizing every word of the liner notes before I pulled into my driveway.

Go big or go home, folks. I don’t do crushes half way.

I spent 2000-2001 listening to that CD backwards and forwards on repeat incessantly until everyone around me probably wanted to shoot themselves in the eardrums. Until the obsession slowly faded….and my love for alt rock gave way to a short affair with techno and electronica (I don’t know.)…when I stumbled out of that phase,dazed and more than a little confused, I found myself laying out in the sun on my roof in Jackson Heights, Queens (how I would up in Queens is another story for another day) with that old cd in my walkman – yes, i said walkman - I know. can you handle it? I was totally consumed by sense memory. Out of nowhere, a light went on and the liner-note cramming I had done all those years ago all of the sudden proved useful….these guys…this band…they were from Long Island, if memory was serving me correctly, and mother of god I could not get my bikini clad ass down the stairs fast enough to google that shizz.

So there I am, a week or so later, sweating my ass off in a tiny, divey, biker bar in Port Jefferson, 2 feet from the stage, completely unaware that I was standing on the precipice of the moment that would ultimately change the entire course of my life.

He walked out onto that stage, this man who had been serenading me via sony walkman all this time, whom I had been daydreaming about, obsessing over and internet stalking for years. Close enough to touch, real and in the flesh and more beautiful than I ever even imagined. My jaw dropped and my heart slammed into my stomach like it had just been poured full of concrete….and I was a goner. Wrap it up.

After that fateful show, he came down to mingle with the handful of people, most of whom he seemed to know quite well and I stood, like a deer in the headlights, paralyzed by fear, salivating. The very definition of Stalker Creep. The friend that so mercifully tagged along for this drool-a-palooza decided she couldn’t take it anymore and went to him, took him by the elbow and announced that her friend over there, the one with the crazy eyes, panting? Well, that girl wanted to say hello but couldn’t manage to move her feet, and would he be so kind as to just, I don’t know, WAVE or something?

Looking at these pictures now gets me totally hysterical. I was a shaking, twitching, sweating, nervous wreck. I still shudder thinking about the asinine things that came out of my mouth that night...and I smile, thinking about how sweet he was to this hot mess who couldn’t for the life of her gain her composure.

I didn't have a clue that my future husband was at that bar that night, shouting requests from the back of the room. I didn’t even meet him until 6 months and countless shows later, but I always heard him, hollering from the back…of course, if you’d asked me then, I’d have sworn to you I’d never love anyone other than John ever, ever again. That didn’t turn out to be the case, but do I still have a colossal, shameless crush on him? You betcha. Youuuu betcha.

When I think back on all the moments that have belonged to me, the most fascinating ones are the ones where, unbeknownst to me at the time, the road forked off in a new direction. Had I made even the slightest different choice, to go to Macy’s that day rather than Nordstrom for example, I wouldn’t be sitting here today. I would never have met my husband, I wouldn’t have my son. Where would I be? Who would I know? It’s enough to blow your mind if you think about it too hard.

So twelve years later, here we are. The memories are plentiful, the laughs, the embarrassments, the totally cockamamie things that continue to come out of my mouth, the kisses, the hugs, and THE MUSIC have filled my life with a happiness I can’t explain. Directly and indirectly. And there was John, essentially the catalyst to all of it. I can’t make this stuff up, folks.

Montauk, 2006

"if you can't find your way then the way finds you
everyday you're defined by the things you do
everyday that you wake you're reborn brand new
so get up find your feet and walk in new shoes again"

~jh