How I (Might’ve) Lost My Girlfriend

My girlfriend is a big fan of some musician whose name I can’t recall at the moment. He recently published a memoir and was doing a limited book signing tour in support. My girlfriend was incredibly excited and made plans to attend. There was just one problem. She needed tickets and assigned me to the task.

Apparently this musician is quite popular. Earlier tour stops had sold out quickly. She gave me a date and time for tickets sales for his appearance at Powell’s City of Books in Portland, Oregon and several reminders leading up to it. She seemed pretty invested in going to this event. I was worried my relationship might depend on making it happen, but doing so might’ve actually caused it to end.

Waiting on a famous guy...
Waiting on a famous guy…

On the day of the sale, I was well prepared with the website loaded on multiple devices. Minutes before the sale was scheduled to begin, the ticket seller’s website crashed. I spent a couple hours refreshing the site and closely watching the Powell’s Twitter feed. Though a few very lucky people managed to buy tickets, most of them remained unsold when the announcement came that the sale would be rescheduled. (Note: Powell’s offered amazing service during this fiasco. The original ticket seller did not.)

Three days later the magic moment approached once again. The website crash on the original sale date made me realize this ticket was even hotter than I had anticipated, so I prepared as much as I possibly could. I already had an account set up with the new ticket seller, but I wanted to make sure I had a credit card on file too. That forced me to buy a ticket to an event I wasn’t going to attend, but that extra ten bucks was worth it. (I can’t wait for that event to pass, though, so that I they’ll quit sending me emails about it.)

I set an alarm for 12 p.m., the new appointed time. When it went off, I hit refresh on my laptop and quickly put in my order. While it was pending, I turned to another device and hit refresh. The tickets were already listed as unavailable by then. Fortunately, my first attempt proved successful. As soon as I got that good news, I texted my girlfriend. The time stamp was 12:01 p.m.

I knew my girlfriend was a fan of this guy, but I should’ve seen some warning signs that it was even worse than that. In the days leading up to the event, she was incredibly anxious. She asked me to drive to the book store, very strange for this woman who insists on driving everywhere. She asked if I had the tickets multiple times before we arrived at Powell’s. (She was afraid to hold onto the tickets due to her spotty memory. It’s so bad she recently left her car running while having dinner with a friend.) Clearly, she was excessively excited, but I thought it was just fanhood.

Then again, my girlfriend did lead me to believe that maybe this wasn’t such a big deal. We arrived at Powell’s about 15 minutes before doors opened (more than three hour before the event time). We were about 200th in line. At one point during out wait, she elbowed me and said, “We need to get a rug for inside the front door.” That and a few other household chores were heavy on her mind. Somehow she didn’t seem so concerned about this event that had created so much excitement for others.

Looking back, that must have been just a clever ploy. When her turn came to speak with this famous person, she told him she loved him. It turns out she’s had a huge crush on this guy for years. He put his arm around her and had a big smile on his face while their picture was taken. I think she played me to get a chance to meet him.

As I write this, I haven’t seen my girlfriend for about an hour or so. She has a regular appointment around this time, but I’m nervous that she’s run off to meet up with this guy. I hear he’s married and that his wife is named Patti Scialfa. If you know her, you might give her a heads up about a pretty little woman with light brown hair and beautiful blue eyes. She is after her husband and willing to fight dirty.

If she is just at her appointment, then, uh, never mind.

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