Laundry day post

It's Thanksgiving break, finally. My plans? None. What am I doing all day for nine days? I don't know. Yesterday I impulsively decided to play trumpet in the pep band for a basketball game. Apparently I wasn't the only one to make this impulsive decision. One of my friends from brass band, whom I had known before because we'd played in this pep band forever ago together and have both actually been the respective leaders of it once upon a time, showed up as well.

"How long has it been since your last gig?" I asked him at one point, about playing in this particular group. "I don't think I've played one in about a year."

"I don't even know," he said. "Oh wait! I played at a football game a few months ago."

So there we were, playing together like old times. Once upon a time, I had a crush on this guy. My soul would smile a sheepish grin every time he complimented my tone. Then he went to Europe for awhile, and I moved on, and had a slightly more substantial crush on the trumpet player I played next to in brass band last year, the subject of a few posts ago. (Me and trumpet players! I don't know!) Then, this semester, the subject of a few posts ago was occupied in that hour, and this first guy was sitting next to me. At first I was a little disappointed--I'd built up a great friendship with the other guy, and really liked playing next to him because he was nice and we were always in tune.

But then, during the concert, I remembered why I had liked playing with my friend (dude #1) so much in the past. We don't just play in tune. We play in tone. We blend together like no other. And we both appreciate each other for that so much. The other guy, yes, we sounded good together as well. And he appreciated my sound, yes, and I appreciated his. But he didn't need me as much. The first one and I, we complete each other.

I was feeling that last night at the game. And so was he. "I'm so glad I get to play next to you!" he would say. "I'm so glad I get to play next to you!" I would reply.

He told me his mom saw me at the brass band concert and asked, "Who's that pretty girl next to you?" I smiled. He said his mom asks about me when she calls now. Our other friend said, "She's shopping for a daughter-in-law!" I didn't know how to react, because I don't always feel platonically for this guy. I just nervously laughed. I don't know what knowing that someone's mom thinks I'm pretty means. Should I be grateful that someone does? Why does that matter? Why would he choose to share that with me if he didn't agree?

All I want is to share a connection with someone who appreciates my mind and loves me for it. And if they think I'm pretty, that's cool too. I really wish I were closer to this person. We always have a great time together, and appreciate each other's ways of being. And we're so musically connected. How can we ignore that?

Stephy