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Sunday the Masshole and I are throwing a going away brunch/party for a friend of ours.  The Masshole used to work with him and he loves his lesbian brunches.  Not to toot our horn but we do throw a good party.  He wants one last brunch before he manifests his destiny and moves out west. 

Just about 3 years ago, this gentleman, who we call Moo (it’s his last name and in no way a reference to his stature) and I went on a date.  I was single and bruised badly from a break up with the Masshole.  I knew Moo’s interest was piqued when he found out I dated men.  With the help of my friend Leon, Moo got my phone number.  About 10 minutes earlier, I was checking Ticketmaster to see what concerts were going on that night.  Leon had given me a heads up that he was asking me to a show.  I noticed that Death Cab for Cutie was in town.  I was giddy with excitement.  Not only was I about to go see my favorite band (I assumed) but I was going out on a much-needed date.  I didn’t feel guilty about the fact that he and the Masshole were co-workers.  See, nobody was asking me out at the time.  Nobody.  I needed an ego boost and Moo is sweet as pie and a gentlemen.  I knew we would have a good time and it would be easygoing. 

I turned to my co-worker.  “I have a date tonight.  I think I’m going to the Death Cab show!”

As I’m telling her this, my cousin texts me.  He’s got two tickets to the show as well.  VIP, free drinks, the works.  I said thanks but I think I’m already going.  So we could meet up and grab a beer. 

About 10 minutes later, Moo calls me and asks if I’d like to go to a concert with him tonight.  I tell him that I’d love to go and give him my address.  Before I hang up, I ask him what concert we’re going to. 

“Billy Currington.  Have you heard of him?”  He says. 

Dead air.

“Oh wow, no I haven’t.”

“He’s a country singer.  He’s awesome!.”

“Okay?!  I’ll see you later.”

He's cute, but he's no Ben Gibbard

I go back and forth in my head for about 5 minutes.  Should I cancel with Moo and explain that I can’t miss Death Cab?  Text my cousin back and tell him I’m in?  I decide to stick with the original plan and go on the date.  I check Ticketmaster again and see this show is in Ocala.  What the hell?!  Not only is it in Ocala (really getting off my cozy island) but it’s at a club called The Midnight Rodeo.  Jesus. 

There was, no joke, a pregnant girl in line behind us. Right out of the movie Sweet Home Alabama. 

My cousin texted me a picture of the show from his cozy VIP seats.  Dick.  I texted him a picture of girls sitting on a mechanical bull, downing free shots of Watermelon Pucker.  Awesome. 

Moo and I had a blast.  I figured, when in Rome, and we got whiskey drunk together.  I made up for it the following year and saw Death Cab twice.

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