On Big Grins and Monkey Men

"She said she loved me but she loved the beat..."

At some point I was watching a movie. Big surprise there right, and the actress on the screen is one that I'm a bit smitten with. And I realized that this woman I've been hanging out with a bit looks like this actress.

So I began to analyze that notion.

As I'm wont to do.

And as I'm watching this movie there is this scene where the actress is showing the main actor how to dance, and she smiles this smile that makes my heart want to stop. And an idea becomes stuck in my head. I want to see E. smile like that.

For some reason I think that she doesn't get the chance to let loose and have fun a whole lot, and honestly, after living nearly a decade like that, I realize what a shame that is. There really is no point in living by someone elses rules if you don't get the chance to have a good time while you are doing it. This weekend I was taking her to see The Aggrolites, so I made it my goal to get a big smile on her face at some point in the night.

Literally that was all I was looking for.

"...Its just the same old show..."

And for the first time in a long time I realized that I enjoy that. That there is this place in me that want to have someone that like me enough, that they are willing to go along with me somewhere and smile. And that sometimes shit doesn't have to be more than that. That I don't have to push the issue into something else.

I'm that guy. I'm the guy that makes the mix tape to soon. Or goes in for the kiss to fast. Or pledges undying love on the second date. I'm the guy that moves to quick, when he should just be trying to live. I'm always trying to look ahead and to plot and plan things into my own liking. I'm a scheemer and a con, and a bastard, and I have been for a very long time.

I'm hopeing that time for that has come to an end.

In this moment when I realize that I just want to see someone smile. And that is good enough. She doesn't have to have this amazing life changing time. She just has to have a good time. I'm going to still be there with my mates the next time they come through, drinking my PBR's and Happy Meals and singing, "Don't Let Me Down."

And I find that I have to explain a lot to this woman that I like hanging out with, because she doesn't have the same culture that I do. She didn't grow up listening to Son of Slam, and Don't Call Me SkaFace, and Give Em The Boot. And she doesn't get that not all skins are evil, and she doesn't know the words to Countryman Fiddle, or even Monkey Man.

And that is ok. Because when I lean over to tell her something that is funny or interesting. I see it.

When I offer to give her a CD, I see it.

When I tell her I bought a shirt that doesn't fit me and that if she wants it, she can have it. I see it.

She smiles.

This beaming glowing happy thing that is what I was looking for.

That is nice to me.

So I wrap my arms around C. and scream at the top of my fucking lungs.

"Don't Let Me Down! Don't Let Me Down! Don't Let Me Down! Don't Let Me Down!"

PBR in the air.

And when the night is over. She is smiling at me.

And I'm content with life.

"...On my radio, on my radio, on my radio!"

File Under Virtue.