When I first met m’lady at a ZZTop concert I immediately took the plunge and asked her out. This was not an action I was accustomed to making; indeed I was so tied up in knots inside that the words just spilled out of me. I felt like a mere bystander as I heard myself asking her if she liked art, and when she inevitably answered in the affirmative I heard myself rather suavely invite her to join me for a Renaissance exhibit that was currently running at the National Gallery, one (I added) that included works by such monumental heavyweights as Da Vinci and Michelangelo.
“Wow, this guy’s good,” I said to myself.
“It’s really a privilege to have such astounding exhibits come to town,” I heard myself tell her. “It would be almost criminal to miss it…”
It was just like one of those rare instances when every shot I call slams cleanly into the proper pocket – bank shots and everything – and as I continue to sink shot after perfect shot I try my best to act like I do it all the time. “Pretty smooooth…” I thought.
“I think you’re right,” she answered with a smile.
It was a date.
And on July 28th, 2005 (just sixteen days after that fateful meeting) our first official date came to fruition when I shelled out $24 for two tickets to the National Gallery. Okay, given that we were already ‘dating’ by then (since smooching for the first time after Kid Rock’s Bluesfest set) I might have suggested we go Dutch. But we’re still together
so that’s besides the point. so maybe I did pay for both of us after all.
Together? Did I say we were “together”? More like married, joined at the hip, and the loving adopted co-parents of our little fuzzy buddy Chilly Willy. I’d say we’re together! And the mileage! We’ve tromped through more than a dozen countries over five continents together doing a hundred things and surviving a thousand adventures, and all of it within an arms reach of each other. We’re currently on our third shared residence and our second car. Heck, we even amalgamated our record collections. Clearly, things have gotten serious between us.
And it all started with the idea of purchasing this very ticket.
As to the exhibit itself? Can’t remember a thing. Mona Who? The Sistine What? I don’t recall looking at a single canvas. Why would I? I walked in with the greatest work of art already on my arm, and I left with her too.