Preamble to a First Date
Apr. 2nd, 2006 03:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreLast night, besides being April Fools Day, was the first Open Mic of the month at my small town coffee shop, meaning that my favorite host was running the show.
Tom thinks I'm brilliant, and I adore him for that. Poets get so little respect, it's nice to have someone tell the audience that they are "in for a treat" before you take the microphone. I like to have my ego stroked as much as the next person, maybe even a little bit more. When the only thing in your whole life that you are any good at is something as useless as poetry, one little compliment goes a long way.
When I walked in, Tom announced that he had already put me on the list even before I said anything. Unlike 2 weeks ago, I had my baby wranglers in the audience to keep an eye on my son. The last time I read, I didn't. Big mistake.
The only reason I agreed to read that night was because there was only one musician there when I showed up and he had been on the mic for 45 minutes already when I walked in. He asked me, begged me, to read something so he could take a break. I agreed, though I had no time to go decide what to read or prepare in any way. When I took the mic, my son toddled on up to the performing area and knocked one of the microphones over so that it hit me in the hip as I was reading. I couldn't concentrate on my performance because I was concentrating on keeping the baby away from the wires and cords and interesting electronic stuff that was up there for him to play with. It was dismal. It won't happen again. The next person who asks me to read when Bev, Jackie or Benny aren't there had better say in the same breath, "I'll watch the baby."
Last night, though, Bev and Tim and Benny were all there, and Benny was missing his grand kids so he was willing to play with my year-and-a-half old and keep him busy. Benny plays drums, harmonica, guitar and he sings, as well. He's in a couple of bands that play around Houston and he does the open mics when he doesn't have a paying gig. He's 55, but he has the energy of a kid. By the end of the evening, my son was worn out from being chased, flipped over, tickled and swung around, but Benny still seemed to have energy to spare.
When I got up on the microphone, Benny came up with my son and stood at the mic next to the one I was on because my son wanted to be up there with me. I made him take the baby to the back of the cafe and sit down. The two of them are two much of a distraction. Benny has played guitar with my son up there before (he's more than a little fond of him), but I can't do it. They both pouted as they walked off, leaving me to start my set feeling both guilty and relieved.
I started with a new piece called Punch Line, then moved to an older piece called Preamble to a First Date, which is about the speech I wanted to give to Jeff the first time he asked me out, but didn't. I haven't read that one in a few months, and it always gets a good laugh from the audience. I closed with Love Poem for New Orleans, because that is Tom's favorite and he always asks for it. I'm sick to death of reading the New Orleans poem, and I need to write something else as colorful and poignant as it is so people can ask me to read that one instead.
I'll leave y'all with Preamble to a First Date, about me feeling reluctant to take another risk on a relationship, because I was not feeling lucky in love at that point in my life.
Preamble to a First Date
If you want to go out,
I need to set some ground rules
on what I expect from you
when you decide to dump me.
On the day you call it quits,
you're not allowed to tell me that you love me,
but that you just aren't in love with me anymore;
it's only fair that I warn you -
I've made a vow to shoot
the next man to say those words to me.
Also, on that day, when it comes,
don't say that I'm special,
really, really special,
in fact, the most special girl you've ever known,
and that you'll never forget me,
but that you've me someone else
and you feel we should take a breather
from our special relationship
so that you can explore relations with this new,
though less special, person.
With the time comes,
make it clean,
make it fast,
and then walk away.
Don't tell me that we're still friends
when your friendship is the last thing that I'll want;
don't call me on the phone to see how I'm doing
when the sound of your voice
will burn like battery acid
poured onto the surface of my still raw psyche.
Just turn tail and leave;
don't hang around to watch me suffer.
These things said,
and I hope understood,
and with your promise to respect my wishes
upon the demise of any future relationship
that we may have,
then yes,
that'll be great,
I'll have dinner with you tonight.
-Nina Erickson
June 2004
(c) 2006
Tom thinks I'm brilliant, and I adore him for that. Poets get so little respect, it's nice to have someone tell the audience that they are "in for a treat" before you take the microphone. I like to have my ego stroked as much as the next person, maybe even a little bit more. When the only thing in your whole life that you are any good at is something as useless as poetry, one little compliment goes a long way.
When I walked in, Tom announced that he had already put me on the list even before I said anything. Unlike 2 weeks ago, I had my baby wranglers in the audience to keep an eye on my son. The last time I read, I didn't. Big mistake.
The only reason I agreed to read that night was because there was only one musician there when I showed up and he had been on the mic for 45 minutes already when I walked in. He asked me, begged me, to read something so he could take a break. I agreed, though I had no time to go decide what to read or prepare in any way. When I took the mic, my son toddled on up to the performing area and knocked one of the microphones over so that it hit me in the hip as I was reading. I couldn't concentrate on my performance because I was concentrating on keeping the baby away from the wires and cords and interesting electronic stuff that was up there for him to play with. It was dismal. It won't happen again. The next person who asks me to read when Bev, Jackie or Benny aren't there had better say in the same breath, "I'll watch the baby."
Last night, though, Bev and Tim and Benny were all there, and Benny was missing his grand kids so he was willing to play with my year-and-a-half old and keep him busy. Benny plays drums, harmonica, guitar and he sings, as well. He's in a couple of bands that play around Houston and he does the open mics when he doesn't have a paying gig. He's 55, but he has the energy of a kid. By the end of the evening, my son was worn out from being chased, flipped over, tickled and swung around, but Benny still seemed to have energy to spare.
When I got up on the microphone, Benny came up with my son and stood at the mic next to the one I was on because my son wanted to be up there with me. I made him take the baby to the back of the cafe and sit down. The two of them are two much of a distraction. Benny has played guitar with my son up there before (he's more than a little fond of him), but I can't do it. They both pouted as they walked off, leaving me to start my set feeling both guilty and relieved.
I started with a new piece called Punch Line, then moved to an older piece called Preamble to a First Date, which is about the speech I wanted to give to Jeff the first time he asked me out, but didn't. I haven't read that one in a few months, and it always gets a good laugh from the audience. I closed with Love Poem for New Orleans, because that is Tom's favorite and he always asks for it. I'm sick to death of reading the New Orleans poem, and I need to write something else as colorful and poignant as it is so people can ask me to read that one instead.
I'll leave y'all with Preamble to a First Date, about me feeling reluctant to take another risk on a relationship, because I was not feeling lucky in love at that point in my life.
Preamble to a First Date
If you want to go out,
I need to set some ground rules
on what I expect from you
when you decide to dump me.
On the day you call it quits,
you're not allowed to tell me that you love me,
but that you just aren't in love with me anymore;
it's only fair that I warn you -
I've made a vow to shoot
the next man to say those words to me.
Also, on that day, when it comes,
don't say that I'm special,
really, really special,
in fact, the most special girl you've ever known,
and that you'll never forget me,
but that you've me someone else
and you feel we should take a breather
from our special relationship
so that you can explore relations with this new,
though less special, person.
With the time comes,
make it clean,
make it fast,
and then walk away.
Don't tell me that we're still friends
when your friendship is the last thing that I'll want;
don't call me on the phone to see how I'm doing
when the sound of your voice
will burn like battery acid
poured onto the surface of my still raw psyche.
Just turn tail and leave;
don't hang around to watch me suffer.
These things said,
and I hope understood,
and with your promise to respect my wishes
upon the demise of any future relationship
that we may have,
then yes,
that'll be great,
I'll have dinner with you tonight.
-Nina Erickson
June 2004
(c) 2006
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
some ground rules
Date: 2006-04-02 09:09 pm (UTC)to bad more women can't talk ground rules,..(and men too, i'm sure)
Re: some ground rules
Date: 2006-04-02 09:15 pm (UTC)I did tell him the one about not saying that he loved me but wasn't in love with me. He seemed amused at the time and agreed to to never say that to me. He protested that he was the one who always heard that line, rather than being the one who used it.
Still, after 16 years, so far, so good...
not saying that
Date: 2006-04-02 09:28 pm (UTC)for me to share a bed i need the friendship, and just because the bedroom becomes off limits the friendship need not end,.. though i have met a few that anger and hate was necessary for them to break free and move on,.. thankfully i haven't run into any where death was the condition they needed,..;)
Re: not saying that
Date: 2006-04-03 03:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-02 11:42 pm (UTC)I was tortured, in agony, and couldn't believe that he could just walk away like that, esp after saying he was in love with me.
I guess at the time I just wanted more drama :)
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 03:25 pm (UTC)I figured a clean break, while still hurting, would spare the whole begging, sycophantic phase that I consider so embarrassing once I'm over it. :P
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 04:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 03:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 09:05 pm (UTC)It's a time of powerful emotions, and I think I feel that coming through as I read. Some of it is just that it relates - some is the words. Good One!