Dave Report Number 389
â€¦ Wherein I lose whatâ€™s left of my sanity and go to a concert almost four hours away on a school night.
An open letter to my (apparently not-so-sekrit) boyfriend:
I love you. I really do. Youâ€™re talented, humorous in a dorky sort of way that appeals to me, look awfully nice in those pants tailored to fit your every, uh, feature and for a guy, youâ€™re real pretty. Truth be told, Iâ€™d listen to you recite the alphabet and probably pay good money to do so.
This love has caused me to do some bizarre things. To wit:
** Standing in a crowd of Idol maniacs for three hours in the August Washington heat and humidity just to get a glimpse of you? (Bonus: stuttering in front of you and feeling like a big idiot.) Awesome!
**General Admission concerts which included a beach in VA and a University in Towson â€“ wait times approx 3-4 hours each place. Hells yeah!
**State Fair in Delaware where I was surrounded by very bad food offerings (fried candy bars?) and accompanied by a sister-in-law with ace photo skills but a dead camera battery. Fantabulous!
**Walking a 5k in the pouring rain on a Sunday morning and then standing in said rain for another hour afterwards just to see you speak? I. am so there.
And now I can add this:
Spending many hours jammed in a mini-van with six other women (Dave fans all) driving to a far away locale to see you perform for 90 minutes. And then driving home again to arrive at my final destination around 1:30am.
Only for you, dearest Dave, would I brave chaos, noise, confusion and paying for two seats instead of one. (I donâ€™t quite know how this happened but it seems that it did.) In return I got homemade biscotti, intelligent conversation about all things DC related, a chance to see Charlottesville again and a reason to leave work early today. Oh yeah, and, of course, an awesome show. Live â€œMan in the Boxâ€ was spectacular as was acapella â€œLieâ€ and my personal pony â€œStraight Aheadâ€. Only your loving and dedicated fans would welcome (nay encourage!) your blatherings about grilled cheese with chili, calamari and, oh by the way, did you have french fries too?
I’ve come full circle from my first show literally standing at your feet in Towson to my last for this year standing at your feet (but a bit more on the right). For my trouble I caught one of your guitar picks (okay, I didn’t but the chick who did gave it to me) and was present at what the kids nowadays call an “Epic!!” show. So so so glad I decided to go.
So Dave, my not-so-sekrit boyfriend, whether you are wearing that fucking hat, shirts that show off the arm porn, jeans hinting at fanbase issues or a suit because you just got back from Capitol Hill, you are still our dorky Dave. Donâ€™t go changing, k?