8 \ Marty Robbins.

September 2013
I met 8 one Sunday evening for a bowl of queso and a margarita. Via OKCupid we had been exchanging messages for a day or so. Her notes were funny, quirky, articulate, and sweet, and it was really easy to communicate. Her pictures, although some a bit obscured, indicated that she was attractive, and I was interested.

I arrived first, and sat outside in a perfect late summer night breeze. She arrived, and I stood up to say hello. She was attractive, in jeans, sandals, and a t-shirt – Austin casual. The conversation flowed quite easily. Queso dominated, we wanted to get a beer, so we walked a few blocks to a dive bar. It was closed, so we devised a new plan and walked back to our cars.

Sometime during this 20 minute walk to and from the closed bar she managed to disclose, in the sweetest of ways, several non-trivial pieces of information. 1 – she had housemates, worked a grocery store, and was part way through veterinary school. 2 – she had at one point been a major drug addict. When I say ‘major’ I mean it wasn’t pot – it was the hard stuff. 3 – she wanted to be a mother and really needed to find a man and get impregnated within the next 6 months – the clock was ticking. With this, I agreed to meet her at the new destination, and did. What the hell.

She professed her love of country, and the jukebox was a country music primer. Excellent. The classics, and while I wasn’t a complete newbie, I was hungry to know what was what, and she was a perfect guide. We stood at the juke, going through titles, laughing and selecting. We sat and drank lonies, and she started to sing along, eyes closed, swaying slightly. I wanted to dance with her, but felt like I would interrupt her – she was lost within herself, and the music.

We closed the place down. We walked outside to our cars. Some chit-chat, an awkward hug, and off we went. There was something a little off – not quite right. She was really sweet but…

I invited her to meet me and a few friends a week later to watch a season finale at a bar. I wanted to…see. I had plans to go on to a rock show. She was nice, and we had a bit of a chat, but I decided not to invite her along. She emailed about something once after that evening, I responded, and that was that.

Sweet yet quirky, with some of the quirks quite significant. I endeavor to learn something from each of these encounters. With 8, I have a much better appreciation for country, and for that I’m grateful.

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