(Four bassists and a drummer walk into a restaurant…)
Now Playing: Blues Deville
Let me walk you through what it takes to see friends as an adult:
- A Facebook post.
- A band’s penultimate show.
- A bassist who shares event notices.
- Friends you haven’t seen in far too long.
- The tenacity to volley messages to all parties and pivot when the weather gods frown upon your good time.
Welcome to Saturday night in your (well, let’s not say how old because husband and I are in different decades for the next half a decade) season beyond youth. And if you don’t want to stay home in your pajamas watching SNL—oh, who am I kidding? Does anyone actually stay up that late anymore? Don’t we all just catch the replay on Hulu when we bother?
Anyway, back to Saturday.
It started when J, the bassist in the band my husband is in, posted that Blues Deville, a band that’s supposedly ending, but apparently not quite yet, was playing locally this weekend.
The main draw? T, the bassist in that band, is also a co-sub with B in yet another band, and he’s B’s coworker too. The two of them subbed together in a different band just a couple of weeks ago, T on bass, B on keys.
Are you keeping up? It’s a lot, I know. And hang on because I’m adding more.
Here. Word Raccoon made a chart. 👇
🎭 Cast of Characters (Because It’s a Lot, I Know)
| Initial | Who They Are | Why They Matter |
| B | My husband. Lead guitarist, sometimes bassist or keyboardist | Plays in multiple bands |
| J | Bassist in main band B is in, friend for 35+ years | Posted the FB event. Might attend with his new girlfriend |
| T | The bassist playing Saturday. Also B’s coworker | Fellow sub and solid musician. Saturday’s main event |
| M | B’s former coworker, K’s partner, drummer | Also delightful. Loves to playfully snark on my FB posts |
| K | My friend. Partner to M | Hilarious. Wants to catch up. I do, too! |
| Old S | J’s former girlfriend, not so old. At all. | Word Raccoon is sad and wants a say in these things. (Giving shades of New Adventures of Old Christine, am I right?) |
| New S | J’s new girlfriend, age unknown. | Academic. Probably also lovely. D tells WR to give her a chance |
| WR | Word Raccoon, my chaos-fueled alter ego | Possibly definitely sneaking into the event inside my purse |
I asked B if T was even still in the band. I thought he’d dropped out. Turns out, yes, he had, because the entire band is dropping out. (They’ve been together quite a few years but apparently it’s run its course.)
T is an excellent bassist, a solid singer, and the band is tight. Definitely something to look forward to. (And let’s be honest, I will be shocked if a certain someone I attend with doesn’t get asked to sit in on a couple songs. I will be even more shocked if he declines.)
B had clicked “Interested” on the event J posted. I clicked “Interested” too, partly so B and J would know I was game if this was a roundabout way to create a group event.
Then I noticed my friend K had also clicked “Interested.” Ooh. That thickened the plot, especially since she and her partner M live in the same city as the venue. I took it as code: It’s time we get dinner. Whether it was meant that way or not, I was going to reach out to our friends because why wouldn’t I?
B and I have been trying to meet up with K and M for a while. M used to work with B, which is how I know K at all, and they are the most fun couple. Sadly, the last time we saw them was at the viewing for my mom.
So I texted B:
“Any gigs this weekend?”
Nope, he said. His schedule was open. (He’s supposed to put his gigs on the digital calendar but doesn’t always. I’m also supposed to read it and, well…so I’d say that one’s 50/50.)
Hurdle one: cleared.
I asked if he wanted to go see T play, my way of signaling that I was willing to go. (Sometimes Word Raccoon hisses at anyone who threatens her writing time, but she merely asked if there would be umbrellas in the drinks and then declared herself in. She needed a break, she said, and was already imagining a piña colada. She lives to be a middle-aged cliché in tacky earrings.)
B said yes.
Hurdle two: up and over!
Then I asked, “You texting M, or should I text K?”
Normally I’d be the one to text K, because let’s be honest, isn’t it usually the women who coordinate, but not always in this relationship, which is nice, though I do like a good excuse to text.
B said, “Why don’t you text K?”
So I did, and she replied that she and M would love to come. Yay!
But of course, that’s not the end. That would be too easy.
There’s a chance we’re adding two more to the dinner party. Remember J, the bassist who originally posted the event? I asked B if J and his new girlfriend (whom he’s met, but I haven’t) would be going.
Her name begins with S.
(Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but… what happened to the former S? We were buddies. No one ran this by me. I’m sure the new S is lovely. I truly am. But I will miss the (not-so) old S. I could text her, but that would feel…a little nosey-parker, wouldn’t it?)
(Word Raccoon, meanwhile, is texting her with both thumbs. Because former S was SO MUCH FUN. Who will dance with us now? Who will help us channel our inner 23-year-old at 2 a.m. while the band packs up? Let us not speak of our shenanigans. WR is distraught. Don’t worry, there is zero chance J, old S, or new S will read this. I hope.)
I asked B if he’d text J to confirm.
(The possible attendance, not the breakup. That, alas, has been confirmed. Word Raccoon is now sulking in her flowered robe and clutching her stuffed Minion.)
Barry agreed to text J.
Three days passed.
I still hadn’t heard anything, which meant B had probably spaced it.
So I had a choice: ask again or ignore it. If I ignored it and they showed up, I’d feel awful. Would there be space at the table? Did the venue require reservations? A final head count would really help.
I hate to be sexist, but this is why the women do the planning! I wrote a poem today called “In Emotional Labor,” y’all. Do you see why? LOL. I did write it, but not because of that. It wasn’t aimed.
(Reader, I asked. He had spaced it. A quick text to J got a “probably” in response. Which, fair, it’s kind of a maybe for all of us at this point with the weather.)
So the current guest list is four…or six…or will it happen.
And honestly? That feels just about right for adult friendships, semi-defunct bands, and heat-stroked/rain drenched venues.
This, my friends, is what adult playdates look like:
- One part bass players
- Two parts shared calendars
- A dash of Facebook reconnaissance
- And a generous pour of I hope the weather cooperates
We’re not finished. It’s not just rain we have to worry about.
Today is Thursday, and the outdoor venue already posted on Facebook that they closed early today due to extreme heat. So even if it doesn’t rain on Saturday… are we really going to be up for a concert in the molten core of July?
(Can you tell I’m writing this early for next week’s post? That’s why the tenses are doing the cha-cha. Time is a construct, especially when coordinating adult hangouts.)
Friend K texted to ask if we should have alternate plans in case of rain. Which:
A. Means it’s not just about the band; they want to see us, YAY, and
B. Is a brilliant suggestion. Why didn’t I think of that?
We also now have alternate plans in my mind for heat: dinner somewhere air-conditioned, then maybe the show, once the sun stops trying to murder us.
Oh, and Word Raccoon has not been invited.
Because…isn’t it obvious?
She knows. She’s pretending not to care while polishing her nails. I caught her sneaking glitter sunscreen into my purse and checking the hourly forecast on three weather apps. She’s already picked out a dress with swishy sleeves, earrings shaped like tambourines (which we don’t actually own, but now… we might need to fix that), and she keeps muttering something about “poetic closure in the parking lot.”
She was also carrying a tiny case that may or may not hold a raccoon-sized bass.
And honestly? With this many musicians floating around, there’s a non-zero chance we’ll be asked to sing for our supper. So… we might need her, right?
If WR makes it out of the bag, I cannot be held responsible.
She loves to dance. And by now, she’s probably learned to play that bass. Not like Jaco Pastorius or anything, but I happen to know she knows a few notes.
And that’s how adult playdates work now:
- With the help of social media
- A side of texting
- A weather app obsession
- An increasingly chaotic entourage of bassists
- And a big measure of music
Or here’s hoping it works out.
Saturday evening update: Just home from outing. Band gig canceled due to rain.
B texted J and told him that. Since J lives in Huntington and the gig was in Warsaw, end of transmission. So I still have not met S. 2. B’s band has an annual gig next weekend that I haven’t decided if I’m going to. That might be a chance.
Back to Saturday: B, I, K, and M ended up going out for Italian and a movie instead.
We went to a place called Salvatori’s, a restaurant my brother has been suggesting for quite a while. I should’ve listened to him sooner because I had the best meal I’ve had in a long time.
Their special, chicken piccatta, was excellent! Description: “Pan-fried chicken simmered in a lemon-butter white wine sauce served with capers.” It came on a bed of linguine and grilled lemons with a piece of bread, along with a side salad. It was perfectly seasoned, just this side of too salty; the white wine melded beautifully with the butter and lemons, and when warm, was amazing. It was still really good when it cooled, but I’m a stickler for warm food. It definitely could’ve fed two, and actually, I shared it freely with my tablemates.
After a quick trip to the Dollar Tree where Word Raccoon did not fill her purse with candy and buy some fun eyeshadow on a lark that she hopes doesn’t stain her eyelids, we went to see Fantastic Four.
(It was not my suggestion to buy the candy, but of course I went along with it. You have not lived until you tell the clerk you are definitely not buying candy to take to the theater and he hands you an extra bag so you can definitely not separate it from your other purchases.)
Also, I was purse shamed by someone who shall remain nameless who said I should know by now that I cannot bring a small purse to a movie.
“But I thought we were going to be normal people and buy from the concession stand. And also, we just ate dinner! Even Word Raccoon is not hungry.”
Which would’ve played better except at that point WR had a Twizzler in her paws.
“What?” she asked when I glared at her.
While I’m not a sci-fi fan on any front, Marvel movies are usually fun. Despite not being sure we wanted to see it, it was a sweet movie and people clapped and cheered during parts of it that I won’t spoil here. It was heartening to hear people still enjoying an American pastime during times like these.
So yeah, socializing as adults has its challenges. But also, you feel free to say “No, I really don’t want to go to the 9:45 showing. That’s past my bedtime.”
Except you have to hope they forget your husband is a musician and sometimes plays into the wee hours of the morning. But honestly, that feels like a whole other burn.
dremadrudge.com 