Tonight I gave my phone number to a girl I didn’t know. But not for the reasons you think.
I know you are probably thinking, what about Steve? to which I can honestly reply that if I ever work up the courage to give my phone number to a pretty woman because I want anything other than a strictly platonic experience out of that interaction, Steve will definitely be the first to know. Maybe even before the pretty women in question knows. Assuming he wasn’t already in on it to begin with.
God, I love my husband. We aren’t married, I just think these exact words over and over again every day.
But no yeah I gave my phone number to a woman playing the drums in a local jazz quartet comprised entirely of women. A friend is trying to start a band and we’re looking for someone to play the drums on a couple of tracks, at least. We are creating a rhythm section from scratch, trying to network and meet people across the local music scenes.
The drummer in this band stood close to me when I worked up the courage to go over and say hello. She was friendly and bubbly and chaotic and I thought she was beautiful. I gave her a shot of espresso with a splash of milk from the fridge because she said the little plastic cartons of half and half freaked her out. Her band played for two hours and they sounded amazing.
Apparently one of my coworkers deadass asked her out the last time she was here. Which my other coworkers reported with a certain amount of side-eye. I get why he would do that. But that isn’t why I gave her my number.
Maybe nothing will come of this. Maybe nothing will happen. But my friend who is trying to start a band was cheering on the other end of the line when I told her I went over to say hi.
I am lucky to work in a place that hosts live music for every night. This time it was good.