More in-depth on Mad Max

[thedarksiren2]

After coming home from drooling over books and cds and getting lost in Passou and Neruda's minds at Borders, I found myself longing to do something, but everything that was around either wasn't appealing and/ or cost too much money (ie - going to the Paul Van Dyke show @ Metropolis would've been rad). I gave bindrune some laughs, and she encouraged me to do what I had kind of thought about doing, but was leary of...

I am still on that Hot or Not site, right? I have actually met some really cool people, such the Guatemalan-who's-really-French-and-in-Denmark right now. I have two people whom I consider true pen-pals, which is nice. Well, about two weeks ago I got a "match" from someone not 16572357423543 miles away. We wrote back and forth, and eventually I decided to call him. The first night we talked for about an hour which, as those who know me well will tell you, is very odd. He was just as funny on the phone as he was in writing, and very intelligent, although his ways with words are not the most sophisticated. I liked talking with him though, soo...

So bindrune told me I should go for it, call him and ask him to meet me somewhere. I had been thinking about doing it all day, she just pushed me.

So I called him, and we were to meet at midnight at Lincoln Park Pub.

I walked in and b-lined for the bar. I was nervous, which was silly but I needed a beer to settle my nerves. I am not good at first meets, usually too chatty and goofy.It wasn't a date or anything, just two people meeting in person, so that made it a bit easier.

When I turned around, I saw eyes from across the seas of bodies staring from the door. I raised an eyebrow, and he lifted his drink to me. I raised mine as well, and we met in the middle.


Drew stands 6'2" tall, thus he towered over me, even with the platform shoes on. He liked them though, and thought it was funny how I felt the need to try to be "equal" to The Tall. I lead us to the quieter part of the bar and we sat and talked about all kinds of subjects, and I realized just how well read he is in history, particularly of Cleveland and Chicago. He asked me about music, about my job, the usual kind of nice-to-meet-you chit-chat. But then I smelled it, and he stood up and walked over to the window.

"Do you see a haze out there too, or is it just my bad eyes?" he asked.
Sure enough, smoke filled the air, and the smell invaded me even more than the chemicals from earlier. I got a little freaked out, wondering if I had left a candle or incense burning, and so we both headed outside and Jawndomay was just fine.

He looked at me and we both wondered aloud what was burning.
"Wanna ride?" he asked, half challenging me.

We had discussed cars, motorcycles and helmet laws earlier, just because he owns and rebuilds motorcycles and has like a dozen or so. I am halfway when it comes to the laws on helmets, and his comparison to wearing a condom versus bodies warm inside and against each other, well, it made too much sense in some really perverse way. This bike was a smaller Japanese model, not too fancy, although the flames on it were neat. He asked me if I was afraid of not wearing one, which I scoffed at. he smiled and checked out my shoes, was pleased to see they were flat, and we were on our way.

I climbed onto the bike, wrapping my arms around him tightly because I was nervous and soon discovered I was riding with Mad Max, only the punk kids were missing. Same bike used in the movies, apparently. Good conversation topic if nothing else.

We rode around Tremont for a while, and I discovered parts I had never been to. He showed me old hang-outs, looking out over the world of industrial waste and lights. It really was beautiful.

We could not find the fire, yet the air was a world of gray smoke. We crossed the Tremont bridge and turned down a side street, turned again down a hill, and left again only to find several firetrucks and police cars surrounding a street. A house was roaring with flames, dirty-faced neighbors watching from the corner. We asked them what it was, and they said it was an abandoned crack house. Mad Max joked that they shouldn't worry because in a few years it would be the site of expensive condos. They laughed, and each of us bid the other goodnight.

Mad Max had mentioned earlier that Best Cuts had destroyed his hair. It was super clean-cut, but not bad. He had shaved off his goat-t, which was interesting to see. He's not striking, but his amusement with everything was infectious, and we rode through the Industrial wastelands, talking about drag-racing and kids drinking and having sex beneath large bridges near the Flats. I had a passing thought of the Temple of Lost Love, and then lo-and-behold, we came at it from the back, and I was tickled to pieces about it. I tried to explain it to him and he thought I was talking about a Sisters of Mercy song or something ridiculous. I about died laughing, and he laughed hard enough that I could feel his ribcage all but exploding beneath my grasp.

It was at this point that the sand began to swirl around us, and as he talked, I became involved in something so very strange in my own head. I followed his breathing patterns between each word, every sentence. He told me about places he'd worked, about people he'd encountered. His breath was strong, low and correct by every singer's standard. I tried to mimic it, to breathe the same rhythmic patterns, but when we crossed Abbey, he pointed out that the lights downtown looked gorgeous through the arches of our bridges (we are #2 or #3 in the world with the most bridges per square mile...I cannot remember exactly which it is). I forgot his ribcage expanding and glanced to my side, sighing at the site, and excited that someone else would notice something as small yet significantly lovely as that.

I told him I appreciated his appreciation for the finer details of life. He liked that, told me he was glad to make me smile, and beamed the rest of the ride back to Jawndomay.

When Mad Max AKA Drew dropped me off, he asked me if he was allowed to call me again. I agreed, and he said he'd like to hang out again. We shook hands only for him to lean down and smooch me softly.

He said,"I'd like to do that a lot more...see you, I mean. Wow, my timing's bad."

I laughed a bit about this, and told him I'd like to hang out more sometime too. He smiled his very odd smile - reminded me of Michael Keaton's smile in Beetlejuice - lifted my hand and kissed it, telling me goodnight.

So yeah, I had a date, kind of.
It wasn't meant to be one, but it kind of was.
We'll see how things pan out...I am not in any kind of rush to be serious at all with anyone. There are other people I care far more deeply for, whom I will *hopefully* be seeing very soon.

I wonder if my Mysterion ever got his/her answer from here. I am really more curious than ever, now that I know the IP address is in Mentor.
Yup, if you're reading this, check it out: i was all resourceful and shtuff! LOL
Not that I can figure it out any better than before...no clue who might work out there. The few people whom I know that live out that way, well, I cannot figure out why any of them, were it to be them, would do such things. Not that they aren't kind and giving; most of my friends are. I.just.don't.know.

And yeah, I do want to know. You deserve a hug, you stealthy-freak!
~;)

For now though, sleep is calling.

Comments

[bindrune.livejournal.com]

yay! you have to tell me more about it when i see you tonight for our study session. see, bindrunes are full of good advice.

Congrads

[poliwitch.livejournal.com]

Way to go girl, it sounded fun :)

[nemesisn72.livejournal.com]

Sounds like a great night! Good for you. Although, I have to admit the part about the house fire (and thinking of the smell) made me kinda cringe...*sigh*

*smooches!*