Saturday, June 05, 2004

Am I Too Old to Mosh?

This entry is from last Friday. I have been so wrapped up in writing, trying not to think about my fucked up romantic life, and watching my daughter play a circus dog in a school show that I've been neglecting you my blog readers. To be honest the only thing and the last thing I want to be writing about is the misfit. Maybe there is one more post I can/will write about him but today he confessed finally that he still isn't over his ex so the whole us not dating feels more real to me tonight even though I've known from the get that he wasn't over her. I'll write about how that makes me feel in a separate entry but now let me take you back to a happier more confusing time....last week.

The misfit was running late, as usual. But because of what we had been going through I immediately worried that he was going to stand me up, especially when I called at 10:20 or so and he didn’t answer his cell phone. He didn’t stand me up and I didn’t tell him about my fear.
When he picked me up in his brother’s car I didn’t greet him with a kiss on the mouth. Not because I didn’t want to and not because of the whole “we’re not dating anymore” thing but because I didn’t want to ruin my lipstick.
He tells me about a friend of a woman he had bad sex with once and how according to this corporate friend the woman has been like a hermit in her apartment. The misfit blames himself since after he had bad sex with her he got back together with his ex and stopped calling her. The misfit was the second man the 25 year old woman had slept with. Another reason, according to him, for this woman to lock herself away from the exciting New York City social scene.

La Oveja Negra didn’t have a line in front when he parked the car, the way it did two weeks before when we went to see Pedro Suarez Vertiz singing about his Tren Sexual. We made it upstairs by 11:20 pm and were really surprised with how empty the club was.
Crew members were doing a sound check on the stage and the dance floor was empty. The DJ wasn’t playing music. The few people that were in the club seemed like they were reporters/photographers of some sort covering the event, the others seemed like they were members of the Bersuit fan club. The misfit and I drank beers. He said I looked hot and damnit I did. Too bad there weren’t any cute Argentines for me to flirt with. Too bad the misfit and I aren’t dating.

When the DJ finally started playing music he played the worse of rock Argentino. The misfit and I sort of swayed/danced to the music inching our way closer and closer to the stage. Bersuit Vergarabat in all their glory (damn there’s a lot of them) went on stage after two am despite the tickets saying 1 am but since when are us Latinos known for our punctuality.

The band members tried to make out with women who went up on stage. One fan armed with the flag of Argentina went up on stage crying. Then she just knelt on stage and covered herself with the flag as if she was a table and it was a tablecloth. For awhile Bersuit members just kind of looked at her and played around her. Finally security came and carried her off. Security also kicked out three concert goers who were smoking cigarettes. I felt bad for them because members of Bersuit were puffing away. When I was in Chile people smoked everywhere, even in the movie theatres. In was in South America that I became a hard core smoker. I think Latin rock clubs should be exempt from the city’s smoking ban. The misfit doesn’t smoke, let me repeat, he doesn’t smoke unless he’s with me because I always have cigarettes.

The club was crowded or at least felt crowded by the time the band began to play. It could just have been that since everyone was moshing and stepping on my poor feet it felt like there were more people than there were. As I jumped around with the crowd I remember distinctly thinking, “I’m 27 with a child nearly 7 at home. Am I too old for this?” I hadn’t moshed in a while. Moshing still remind me of when I was in high school going to bad Regis dances (all the Regis dances were bad). The misfit tried his best and it was downright adorable and sweet the way he tried to protect me from getting slammed too badly by anyone. There were moments that it felt like we were still dating like when we would give each other light kisses or reach for each other’s hand.

The show ended a little past four, and the sun was just beginning to peek through the night darkness. The misfit drove me home and left me at the back door to my building with a familiar kiss on the mouth (we’re not dating though!).




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