It's Saturday morning and we're laying in bed watching Say Anything or maybe re-watching the second season of the U.S. version of the Office because that season is frickin' awesome. Around noon we decide to grab brunch at that little breakfast place a few blocks away that you like so much. Afterward, we decide to go to the record store and look around a bit and that is where I ruin the entire day.
I bring my stack of records up to the counter and exchange pleasantries with the girl working the register. As she's ringing me up, she makes a comment about the Cherry Valance album I picked up for 3 bucks. In turn, I compliment her for choosing to play The Gun Club's "Fire of Love" in the store.
From there we somehow get to talking about how each of us were at the MC5 show that Evan Dando played with them a few years back and how we both think "New Wind" by 7 Seconds is a highly underrated album. I'm laughing and agreeing with pretty much everything she says, and even as she keeps glancing over at you silently standing next to me, I make no effort to leave. I'm throwing some of my best game at her and even though you're right there, she's going with it.Holy shit, you ARE a bad boyfriend. Are you wearing a "What Would John Mayer Do?" bracelet? Because I feel that is something that he would do. Um, yeah, good luck with that.
This goes on for probably longer than a transaction for four records should take, but I'm enjoying talking to a cute girl that has the same musical taste that I do (no offense to you, but I can only listen to The Beastie Boys and White Stripes so many times before I go crazy). We finally leave but not before I mention to her that I deejay Monday nights at the dive bar down the street and that she should bring some records down sometime, maybe do a guest spot.
Of course we get in an argument on the way home and eventually I apologize for being a dick. Everything is cool again--until we go to the bar that night and I openly flirt with the girl working the door.