date date

The date date turned out to be less formal than I anticipated, which was good because that was the whole reason why I never asked her out on a date date to begin with-- I am the type of guy who starts off hanging out with a girl and by the end of the night it has become a date date. Likewise, I have gone out on what I thought were date dates only to discover (to my chagrin) that the girl brought a friend along, thus invalidating the whole notion of a romantic night out. (For those who think life is all about threesomes, please bear in mind that I never have and never will have a threesome of ANY kind with anyone)

I put my best foot forward: I made plans for us to go to the newly-refurbished Griffith Observatory, and then later on to dinner at a nice restaurant. By mid-week, however, she had amended the plans as follows: watching a movie at the Hollywood Cemetery, and then a quick trip downtown for a friend's birthday bash at the Blue Star Cafe, where various loud punk bands were slated to play.

I was cool with the last-minute changes. It meant less money for me to spend and a more casual atmosphere. But it would still be a date date.


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She likes drugs just as much as I do.

I scored some Ecstasy from one of my connections-- two Blue Boys, laced with smack and mild when taken in single doses.

It's probably not wise to center a relationship around illicit drug use, but we understand each other: she is just as fucked in the head as I am. We make no excuses-- we both like being high on chemicals. We are not out of control with it, and we both have had past loves who made a huge issue out of our casual indifference to the side effects of such mind-altering benders.

Friday night, she was upset: an argument with her roommate over money. She called me up and asked me to whisk her away. I told her I was making hip-hop beats with my homeboys in the Valley. We gave her directions and she drove out from Hollywood to hang out with the posse.

The fellas took to her instantly. She fit right in with the boy's club element. She's a rap fan, and she was impressed by my rapping skills. She made fair critiques and encouraging comments. She even went with me on a drug run in the thick of the night.

She's my partner in crime... what can I say?


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I was a little stressed out over making the movie on time. I'd tried twice in the past two years to attend a screening at the Hollywood Cemetery and both times I was shut down because we arrived too late or things got too complicated. I was hoping that the third time would be the charm.

She teased me about my impatience. "You were all worried," she said to me as I parked the truck a block away from the line that was forming quickly. "'It's ten past five!' We made it OK, didn't we?"

Norally, I would get upset at this. But she had a point. "Hey, if it weren't for me pushing things along, it might've taken longer."

"Well, I am known for being late a lot. Still, I knew we'd be OK."

"I know... Believe me, I showed a lot of restraint. I'm way more impatient than that!"

"You worry too much," she said as she smiled, waiting for my reply.

"Maybe it was a perfect mix of my timeliness and your relaxed nature... it balanced itself out."

"Maybe."

Like me, she had been trying to get out to Santa Monica and Bronson for many years, but when she first arrived in Los Angeles her job schedule had her working on Saturdays. This was the first time she was able to actually come out and see what the fuss was all about. We brought a blanket, a picnic basket filled with wine and cheese and biscuits and chocolates and other snacks... and the Blue Boys.

I was happy. She was happy. We were both happy.


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We kept laughing throughout the entire screening. Rebel Without A Cause, James Dean and Natalie Wood. A classic. Hays Code hilarity ensued: Sal Mineo as Plato, all but prancing and screaming and proclaiming his gaiety; Wood's strange affection for her father (who calls her "glamour puss" at one point); Jim Backus as Mr. Stark, the father of troubled rebel Jim, wearing an apron and cowering before his ball-busting wife...

We cheered as the scene set at the Griffith Observatory appeared on the screen. Both of us knew we would be there together very soon, and the thought excited us beyond belief.

A couple sitting in front of us sat down as the movie started. The woman threw her fake fur coat on the ground, landing on one of my boots.

We looked at each other, wondering where this woman got the nerve to do such a thing. I began to mash my boots into her coat while paraphrasing (under my breath) a line from the infamous Rick James episode of Chappelle's Show.

"Fuck your coat, bitch! Fuck your coat!"

We were in hysterics. The woman did not notice my subterfuge... but she did notice the piece of moldy cheese that I threw onto her coat shortly after I muddied her fur with my boots.

Rebel Without A Cause indeed...


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We threw the picnic basket in the bed of my truck and drove out to Downtown, where the Blue Star Cafe was located. The Blue Boys had us amped but not batty, and the drive was elegant and easy.

We arrived just in time to see a punk band called Soccer Mom take to the stage. They were the last band to play that night. We greeted Andy, the birthday boy and bash organizer, who'd turned 25 and felt old but not too old.

One of her former boyfriends was there. He is a great guy, and he did not trip out on me and her. He has respect for women and respect for their choices. I always thought he was a cool guy when he was a regular at the Lava Lounge, and he proved it again that evening.

The singer was out-of-control, downing brews and spitting out lyrics with mad-banshee intensity. Her band was tighter than an accountant on Tax Day. They covered a Prince song-- one of my all-time favorites --and I sang along. The singer handed me the mike on the chorus,and I did not disappoint.

The beers we drank had no real effect on us. After the show, we drove back to her place where she fell asleep on the couch and I draped her over my shoulder once again (this has become a ritual for us) and tucked her into bed. I joined in for a little spooning and fell asleep pretty fast.


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The morning lights came, and Marvin the cat (my gift to her) was resting on my chest, purring ebulliently as I glanced over at the clock to see what time it was before rising and gathering my affects. It was now Father's Day, and I had to go make the rounds and pay my respects.

I kissed her before I left, and promised her I would stop by the coffeehouse before I went in to work later on. We both admitted that we had a wonderful time, and we are looking forward to Griffith Observatory at the end of the month.

I know this doesn't sound like the typical date that most people go on, but for people like us it was magical and romantic and joyous. It had all the intimacy and elements of a proper date, but skewed beyond recognition by our respective hang-ups and vices.

In short, it was perfect, and I'd do it all again if given the chance.