I made it back home on A Saturday, as I usually do.
That way I can adjust on Sunday. Also Manchester United usually plays on Sunday so if I fly in on Saturday, then I can watch the game in the morning and everything is alright.
So I got home Saturday and I was expecting to go out with a girl, but it didn’t work out. Instead, an old friend of mine said there was going to be a strokes cover band playing that night in Deep Ellum. I love The Strokes. So the idea of any type of live strokes music was intriguing at the least and necessary at the most.
My only reservation was my friend. I know I called her a friend, but we haven’t done anything “friendly” in about 5 years. By that I mean, we haven’t hung out or seen each other. We’ve texted each other. That’s about it.
We got into a big fight about 5 years ago and haven’t really mended that relationship. I might have written about it before. Either way, it’s been a papering over the cracks situation. Going to this strokes cover band would be like dancing over of the cracks situation.
But I went.
I don’t if it was because I really wanted to see any semblance of The Strokes live, or because I wanted to see if we could be friends, or maybe both, but I went.
It was a good time.
We hung out a bit before the concert. It was fine. It was actually nice, if for nothing but nostalgic reasons. The concert part was fine. She wanted me to dance, but I don’t dance. The funny part is, the last time we really hung out, I remember her says that I was good at concerts. That I knew when to woo. After the concert, she asked if I wanted to go somewhere else to do something else. I said no, that I was tired and hungry, which was true. She ended up staying up late and was hung over the next day, which is what I was afraid would happen and trying to avoid.
But it was a good time and I was glad I went.
I don’t know if we’ll really be friends again, but hey, maybe.