Who Can It Be Now?

August 31st 2024

Couples dating can be nerve-wracking.

There are a lot of factors at play.

I could feel my husband’s tension building as our weekend plans for a haunted cocktail night with his work buddy and his gal grew closer.

We really wanted this to go well.

But we’ve all had those unfortunate trial runs.

The wonderful spouse or boyfriend they’ve talked about for months turns out to be a real asshole, or they start making not-so-subtle stabs at one another before the entrées come out.

Meanwhile you’re squeezing one another’s hand under the table to say,

Just smile and eat your frenchfries, act like you’re distracted by something across the restaurant. We’ll discuss this in the car.

And although, in the last five years, we have managed to meet and immediately fall in love with some of the most wonderful humans on the planet…

Did my brain go there in anticipation of the weekend?

To all these wonderful people and happy and loving couples?

Naw.

Instead, I marched myself knee-deep into the putrid swamp of my anxiety-ridden memories, the handful of failed couples dates we’d been on nearly ten years ago.

Old news, but still ripe with stink.

And so there I found myself, standing in the middle of one of those old memories.

*****Wayne’s World dream sequence*****

The evening has just begun.

The four of us are saying our hellos on the sidewalk and I’ve just finished introducing myself to our friend’s new girlfriend. I’m holding the highest hopes for the evening untiiiil she gives me the old up-and-down look and says,

“Ew you’re pretty,”

(then shoots a look at my husband)

“I hope you don’t mind, but me and your wife are gonna make out.”

Welp, I’m out.

My eyes glaze over and rigor mortis sets in as Joe, not missing a beat, lifts my stiffened body up and out of the social circle like he’s removing an out-of-season mannequin from a storefront window.

He knows in my mind I’m already back at home watching Gilmore Girls.

We’re done here.

This is not actually me.

But spiritually, mentally, emotionally…it were me.

For the love of God ladies… please don’t do this.

Meeting new people is nerve-wracking for all of us, I get it.

But you and I both know this whole act is for attention and/or your form of spraying and marking your territory as the dominant you know what.

Unfortunately yes, we’ve been taught to sexualize ourselves and one another, especially in front of men, to gain attention and form warped bonds and hierarchies to replace actual chemistry and feelings of safety and acceptance with one another.

But it ain’t an excuse.

And it sure as hell doesn’t make me feel safe with you.

And it only adds insult to injury when before the night is over, the same gals that pull this mess inevitably get upset about some guy making a lewd comment about her at the bar…

Oh really? Unsolicited sexual advances don’t feeeeel like a compliment? Tell me more.

I digress-

So after revisiting that lowlight reel…

I figured I’d climb down off my soap box, switch to a new subject and decide what I was gonna wear for the evening.

I landed on my Men At Work shirt since their music and that shirt never failed to put me in a good mood.

Authors Photo

Colin Hay’s voice sparks so many wonderful childhood memories.

But seeing as my brain was already sinking in a pit of “woe is me” worst-case scenarios, it scoffed and said,

“Girl don’t eeeeeven get me started on those band shirts…”

And I remembered not the lovely moments when I bonded with a stranger over our love of the same music.

No no…those experiences don’t make for good TV. They are of no use to me when I’m disaster-prepping.

I’m scanning the dusty shelves of my mind for those Category 5 moments.

The times a random man or woman has looked at me and at the band name on my shirt and decided I don’t look the type and so I must, by the laws of the universe, be submitted to a pop quiz.

Oof don’t you hate that?

I don’t like being put on the spot under any circumstances.

When I get my PIN right on the first try at the grocery store checkout I think- Whew! Still got it.

But a stranger cornering you and asking you to prove your worthiness to sport a t-shirt lest they name you a fraud and flog you publicly?

The worst.

Naturally, it was time to dream up that hellish scenario so I’d be ready in case it did indeed play out.

My mental comic strip looked like this-

The four of us enter the old haunted barn for our couple's outing.

Strangers are shuffling along the old brick floors with drinks in hand, talking and giggling as they find their seats for the show.

Then! Suddenly!

A girl spots my shirt, and smelling my fear, makes a beeline in our direction deciding I am an easy kill and must be destroyed.

She smiles slowly, careful not to expose her fangs, and says,

“Cute shirt, what’s your favorite song?”

I (only in my daydreams) remain completely calm and quick-witted under the heat of interrogation and respond with,

“Are you asking me sincerely, or are you bein’ a turd?”

Yes. This was my daydream rebuttal. I didn’t workshop it, gimme a break.

I just thought it was honest buuuut silly enough to invite her to cease-fire and play nice.

Just wait, it goes further.

So THEN, she says,

“No really-”

And I say,

“Overkill.”

And then she says,

“It was just a question…”

And then I, having deduced that she’s not even familiar with the album since she mistook my answer as a dig, has thus unwittingly exposed her true motives as in FACT - being that of a turd.

So then! (I’m still not done.)

I, with regal posture and porcelain-like skin, say condescendingly,

“No…I was answering your question. The name of my favorite song on this album is Overkill.”

End scene.

The dialogue really fell off the rails at that point as I couldn’t figure out what to do with her character.

Maybe one of the horses in the barn breaks free from their stable and kicks her out of scene? I dunno. I’m still open for ideas on that.

So upon completing my mental screenplay and thinking,

“Wow. I aaaaam an embarrasssment.”

I promptly shook the thoughts out like an etch-a-sketch and sent out a desperate prayer to my spirit family,

“Ok y’all. I’m handing this over. Because I would really like this to go a different way and I obviously have too much bad material to work from and I’m tired of bracing for another bad experience. So I’m hereby making a formal request that y’all surprise us with a far better outcome than we can imagine, and I’m just gonna go in with an open mind and hope for the best.”

I let it go and went on with my day.

But just in case…

I decided to play it safe and not wear my Men At Work top.

As Joe’s work buddy and his partner crossed the parking lot to meet up with us that Friday night, he and I immediately squeezed one another’s hands to say,

“I have a good feeling about this.”

Our feelings were correct.

The conversation was easy, we all relaxed in our seats visibly feeling safe with one another, and we finished our dinner and made our way to the haunted cocktail event.

Getting caught in a downpour on our way inside, the four of us were laughing and squeaking in our shoes as we made our way into the venue.

Following the sounds of laughter and sliding chairs above us, we climbed a winding staircase that opened to a gorgeous banquet hall with vaulted ceilings and exposed beams.

The room was dimly lit except for clusters of twinkling pillar candles and ruby red and violet spotlights glowing through the billowing fog.

Rows and rows of chairs were filled facing the small stage up front but rather than the wedding nuptials that regularly occurred in this cathedral of a barn, we had all come together to hear some ghost stories.

We found a place for the four of us along the side just as soon as the first storyteller had begun to share their ghoulish tale.

With each drink served we all reverted to our kindergarten selves packed into the school auditorium.

On the final story of the night, after four rounds of cocktails and a few punctuating farts from anonymous audience members followed by bursts of laughter, we leaned forward paying close attention as the host continued his spooky tale saying,

“…THEN… the man slipped the cassette of his favorite band into his car’s tape deck- Men At Work.”

My mouth dropped open.

The storyteller then pulled the microphone closer and hauntingly sang,

“Who can it beeeee nooooow…”

He then motioned for the crowd to join in as we sang in unison,

“Who can it beeeeeee nooooow…”

Are you kidding me right now…

Losing my shit I turned to our buddies whispering maniacally,

“I was gonna wear my Men At Work shirt tonight y’all…I blew it!”

I felt my spirit family rolling on the floor with laughter.

And as that final ghost story came to an end and we all stood to applaud our entertainers for the night, the speaker system kicked in with the sound of that familiar saxophone as the song began.

All of our sauced and sloppy voices rang through the barn as a private Men At Work concert played just for us and everyone sang and danced toward the exit,

“Who can it beeeee now!”

So here’s what my spirit family had to say-

You know how to keep yourself safe, at least you think you do. You try to keep yourself small and spot threats before they can puncture your armor. You rob yourself of joy for fear someone is about to steal it from you…do you see the silliness in your logic?

We get it. That’s part of what you came to experience.

But when you want different?

When you want new?

You don’t know what you don’t know is possible.

Let us look over your blueprints so we can make improvements and upgrades beyond your scope.

When you want to bridge the gap between fear from past experiences and hope for humans and a better world?

That’s our gig.

You’re rowing the boat, but we are the current that carries you.

Trust in this synergy and your experiences will be far richer than if you believe you are navigating the rivers and rowing them alone.

Invite us along. Play with us. We live for the trip!

Not only was that synchronicity a delightful surprise, but those lyrics were the exact reminder I needed to hear.

I think so many of our helpers love to speak to us through music because it goes straight to our heart, and before our brain gets a chance to push away a truth we don’t wanna hear, we’re already tapping our feet and singing along.

I know how to detect threats and keep one in the chamber, to separate myself from people to avoid further attacks.

To brace for old pain I’ve already experienced.

But what I don’t see are the connections that haven’t happened yet.

The gifts I’ve yet to receive.

The miracles right around the corner.

The things we have in common I’d never detect unless I let go and trust that there’s a current beneath me carrying me to new terrain if I just keep rowing, and trust the current beneath me.

I love you! Thank you for reading!