the Beehive. Wednesday, December 12 2007

I love this story.

like i said, I’d spent what seemed like forever trying to get the attention of this warm, scruffy music seller that i worked with.  i strutted past the music desk every chance i got and i even made a rule in the café that i was the only staffer allowed to take out the garbage because it meant walking by the music desk.  how many girls do you know who’ll do that for ya’?

so, finally, in January of 1999, Dennis asks me if i’d like to get some coffee after class.  i tried to remain calm, and i might have succeeded for as long as it took me to get from the music desk to the café.  then i started screaming and jumping up and down like a contestant on the Price is Right.  Dennis later told me that he heard every word of my excitement from across the building.

the next morning i head off to class, looking cute in jeans and a sweater, wearing my favorite winter shoes.  now, it must be mentioned that i have a penchant for falling.  i have a weak ankle that gives out every once in a while.  there’s foreshadowing for ya’.

after class, i met Dennis at the designated corner on campus and we walked to the Beehive.  the Beehive was this old old old theater that had been turned into the second location of a local coffeehouse.  i have a special place in my heart for the original Beehive because it was one of the places i spent my nights as a teen.  i think they were open 24/7.  i would steal my mom’s car in the middle of the night and drive my friends to the coffeehouse to play cards or just sit and talk.  later, when the second locale opened up, we made friends with the baristas and would hang out there all night.  at fifteen, i had a short romance with an artist named Andrew who cleaned the theater at night in exchange for a place to paint and rehearse (he played several instruments).  he seduced me with his serenades more than once, with multiple instruments and his many talents.  but that was many years before this date.

by this time, the Beehive had expanded to include a bar and a smoking lounge on the upper floor.  so we went in, ordered our coffee, and headed upstairs–Dennis was smoking at that time.

there was a long flight of stairs interrupted midway by a landing.  i had ordered a café au lait.  what this meant for me was that i had a short, wide, completely filled ceramic cup of coffee.  i was most worried about spilling it all over myself.  what i did not envision was the edge of my shoe catching on one of the stairs on our way up.

in slow motion, the line of my ankle, then knee, then hip, then ribs, elbow, and forehead all reached down to meet the incline of the staircase.  i actually had time to think “this cannot be happening.”  at the end of the fall, i rested my forehead on the stair in closest proximity and then set my coffee on the landing. what i’m proud of is that through the whole event, i didn’t spill a drop of coffee…years of coffeehouse training.

i looked up and Dennis was on the landing.  without a laugh, smile, or smirk, he reached his hand down and asked if i was okay.  i think i fell in love with him at that very moment.

i would fall many more times…and eventually there was laughing…but not that first time.

Millerama. Wednesday, December 5 2007

Rick confused me more than any other crush i’d had to that point in my life.

when he kissed me, i really thought it meant that he was interested.  i’m naive enough to think that.   i’m romantic enough to think that.

so i went home all smiley.  it didn’t occur to me that there was a future for that relationship; i came home to Dennis and, of course, Rick and i were a continent apart.  so i just kind of reveled in the satisfaction of being interesting to someone cute.

a day or two after i got home, i sent out an email, via Alan, that said thanks for a great time.  none of the others knew me before the trip, so i thought it was wonderful that they were so welcoming.  literally 8 minutes after i sent it, Rick responded:

“Hey Melissa,

I’m glad you wrote, for some reason (my stupidity, perhaps) I didn’t
save your phone number after entering it.

It was great meeting you, hanging out and talking, and finding out the
easy way what it feels like to have a piercing in your mouth.

i’m actually listening to Air right now, the company I’m working for
has a 500,000 song library which is rather nice, so if you have any
suggestions for me to look up, I might be able to listen to them here.
I’ve forgotten all your suggestions already, (which I would have done
even if it wasn’t 7am) take no offense.

Send me your address, and i can send that CD.

I hope you have a great summer, and I’ll be curious to hear if you flee
the country to Montreal or head to Chicago.

Take care,
Rick

now, i know that there is no declaration of love in this email.  but it is a little flirty.  after some back and forth mostly about music, i eventually received a package.  there were two cds inside a handmade envelope.  the first three songs on the cd were all about sex and love.  the artists were Heather Duby, Interpol, the Postal Service, and it even had Belle and Sebastian’s “Dirty Dream Number Two’.

everyone who listened to the cd said it was one giant flirtfest.  men women boys girls.  everyone.

i sent an email that said the cd was great; sexy and wonderful.  and i asked him if he meant anything by the songs he chose.  he responded:

“Hello again,

I’m glad you liked the music. I wish I could take credit for all of it, but
I’m just the guy with a CD burner. I think I’d be hard-pressed to match that
myself, since I basically pulled all my favorite songs (for now) together
for one CD, it seems like that well is tapped for now.

As for the messages that could be interpreted, I was thinking of adding a
disclaimer when I sent the discs, but I forgot. I just went back and
listened to some of the music, and I can see how there could be something I
was trying to say, but it just happens to be music I enjoy. I have a
tendency to not pay attention to lyrics, and make up my own words. I guess
this could get me into trouble…”

ahhh.  foiled again.

so at this point, i was feeling a little led on.  i really liked him, that was the problem.  i wanted it to happen.  but again, this is obviously going nowhere, right?

and looking back, i’m not sure if i was unhappy in my relationship with Dennis or not…nothing sticks out.  i may have been more unhappy in my Pittsburgh life than anything.  in my youth, i’d spent many years traveling and was rarely sedentary.  in my early adulthood, it never would have scared me to pick up at a moments notice and move to a place where i didn’t know a soul.  by this time, i’d been in Pittsburgh for over 5 years.  and i didn’t see a way out.  until Vegas.  meeting all of those people made me realize that there were places better suited to me than Pittsburgh.  Rick may have just been the embodiment of that energy.

so i go out to Seattle, looking fantastic by the way (i lost 20 lbs that summer).  and you know this already…i went to the beach, did Bumbershoot.  i saw Rick twice.  both times he had his new girlfriend in tow.   and both times i got that weird feeling that i was being sized up.  i have no sense of whether that’s true.  he may be a natural flirt.  i know i am and i’m probably wired to pick up on those signals even if they aren’t there. 

we continued to email through the fall.  mostly about music.  it tapered off.

what i’ve realized about my millerama episode is that it stirred me up and instigated a series of life-changing events.  i got restless.   i started to question what i really wanted in life, i started questioning where i belonged, and i decided that it wasn’t Pittsburgh.  you’ll find that funny by the end of the story.