Fell in Like with The Drummer, Part One

 

 

There’s been a guy all month, like a heavily-regional-accented gruff angel, alternately sweet and perfectly pissed off though insurrection season. I’m not sure if it’s still going on, but it’s time to start giving him his due paragraphs!

 

Can’t really have a not-swiping-right-related meet-cute these days, so thanks Bumble. You’re still the least onerous dating app. I liked his profile picture because he had his eyes closed—soulful or just sleepy, either way, I’m in. A sweet, innocent beardy face that, it turns out, looks equally adorable when annoyed. Just like my oldest cat! Best of all, HE’S CLOSE TO MY AGE and there’s nothing in the universe hotter than that.

 

My favorite, favorite FAVORITE thing about when we first started chatting was that he asked after the famous hardcore band from my hometown. Getting to harken back to all-ages shows and mosh pits that worried my mom, ohboy, is there anything cozier? There was something so grounding about this guy, even as the attraction started to muddle my mind right up. (He told me later that HIS hometown all-ages shows in the Nineties had Nazis, and he used to fight them. Picturing this has really been a balm this insurgenty week. Don’t judge my balm! Kamala could have died!)

 

The Drummer and I had so many shared reference points that I was more at ease than one might expect to be in December of 2020! It was sexy, too, in that weird COVID-chaste way that still feels super tricky to figure out.

 

“I’d love to meet you in person,” he typed, “but I’d hate to see you attached to a respirator.”

 

So I asked him to text through a bad movie with me, a quar twist on my very favorite early/always date. (Hi Mayor of Kittentown! Hope you are well! Actually I know you’re well and still very good at Legos because I follow your Instagram!)

 

The Drummer told me I could pick the movie, which maybe would be much to his regret.