Meet The Gums

Okay.
So.
I will now continue with the ‘Il Postino’ story.
I tend to get sidetracked, as I’m sure you may be very well aware, ESPECIALLY if you actually know me (in real life). It is my suspicion that having a conversation with me is quite tiring at times because if there is an available tangent to go off on, I will do it. 😉
If you’ve been attempting to keep up with my crazy-making, I do thank you.
If you’d like to re-read the previous parts of this story you may do so at the following links below (I put them in ORDER! I know, I know, it’s shocking.):

The evening of the (aforementioned) Humanoids’ reunion show arrived.

Of course I had no date, so I decided to attend the show by myself.
It was August, I believe, and it was HOT, muggy and buggy outside. I hadn’t had the time to paint my fingers or toes and I felt quite naked (especially because my shoe choice was a cute black canvas peep-toe wedge and I could see my naked, polish-less toes), but I decided I would probably live.
I pulled on a black tank top, jeans and a very lightweight white cardigan…uhhhh, yeah. Totally doesn’t sound like a great rock show ensemble, now does it?
I made certain to arrive early as I did not know what time Il Postino’s band went on and I didn’t want to risk missing them.
After a shitball ride on public transit (a trolley-full of spoiled-brat college kids), I arrived in Allston and began walking towards my destination.
I nervously entered the venue (Great Scott) and decided I needed some social lubricant as soon as humanly possible.
I bellied up to the bar and ordered a beer.
Moments later, I saw him: Il Postino/Josh–in all of his rock-n-roll glory. Leather pants, black leather boots, tank top and a black leather vest that was covered in multiple patches and other accoutrements.
Josh came over to me and gave me a hug, and said, “Oh, man! You came??!!? That’s great! Aw, awesome!!!”
I laughed and said, “Well, I figured if I was potentially going to make rings for you and your bandmates, I should probably know what you guys sound like?”
Then, I immediately began asking him about all of the awesome things on his leather vest–various patches, but mostly I was interested in these two fantastic cobras that were made of either brass or bronze and were almost three-dimensional.
As he was telling me about how he hand-sewed all of the patches on his vest himself, I noticed he glanced over towards my right.
I held my tongue momentarily as a woman stepped from behind me and in between Josh and I.
Josh then said: “Elissa, this is Libby. Libby, this is my friend, Elissa.”
The moment I had waited for.
The moment I had dreaded.
The “meet-the-wife.”
Fuck.
I turned to see a tall-ish, blonde-ish woman, who in my opinion was not attractive in the least. I mean, sure, her skin appeared to be nice, but her face resembled that of a horse. Her teeth were fucking HUGE. Her gums were also frighteningly huge. (Um. Sidebar/tangent? There was a kid in high school whom also possessed very large gums, a few of us referred to him as “Gumby.” Sometimes, we weren’t so nice as teens, huh? Anyway…)
I thought to myself: “SURELY she’s got a good personality. SURELY she’s not a total turd.” 
I offered my hand and she un-enthusiastically accepted; her handshake was terrible. Limp. A dead fish would have been warmer and more lively. (FYI: I decided within this very moment that I hated her. Not because of the fact that she was married to Josh; you have to understand I was taught by my father to always have a good handshake and never to trust the character or intentions of anyone who did not have a good handshake.)
While barely stomaching her piss-poor handshake, I said: “Hi! I’m Elissa, it’s so good to meet you. I know your husband from the post office. Quite a fella you have there! I had no idea he could sew?? Girl, you need to get on that–go get some patterns and fabric–he’s got talent!”
Her response to me was simply: “Huh? Oh. Hi. Wait. What?”
I repeated my quip about having Josh sew wonderful clothing for her.
She didn’t respond verbally, but the look on her face was enough for me to know she wasn’t impressed with my attempted witticism. It was sort of a hateful sneer.
She obviously fancied herself a photographer, as she had a huge, rather-expensive-looking camera on her person. (I found out later she attended NESOP.) She excused herself (I’m assuming to go do important “photographer” things) and Josh and I continued our conversation until it was time for his band to go on.
Feeling even MORE self-conscious than I previously had following my unexpected ‘meet-and-greet,’ I slowly crept into the audience and as near the stage as I dared; I didn’t want to anger the wife, as I understand how touchy women can be about ‘female friends.’ (I mean, duh! I, myself, have been touchy about ‘female friends’ before–I understood universally that I needed to tread lightly.)
Thankfully I did not encounter her while watching The Humanoids’ set. The music was definitely (thankfully) rock-n-roll/metal. I had no idea that Josh was the lead singer, and I was dumbstruck at the sheer power of his voice. I stood, transfixed, until their set was over.  It was unbelievably awesome.
I then scurried back to the bar.
I wasn’t sure when I was going to leave, but my nerves needed soothing once again (hello, anxiety), so I ordered a beer. And another beer.
Josh found me and we were talking to one another, his bandmate walked by and handed me some CD’s of The Humanoids’ music, saying “Here! Give these to all of your friends!”
The wife approached Josh and said she was leaving, she was going home.
“Home,” I thought to myself, “Where her ugly, non-personality-having, terrible-handshaking, horse-toothed-giant-gums-having ass gets to live with this very handsome and talented fellow and I get to live with my cat.” (NOT that Nicodemus isn’t A-Number-The-One in my book, because he is!!!)
Sometimes, I guessed, life just isn’t fair.
I resolved that as a friend, I would never be negative to Josh about his wife’s blatant lack of looks and personality. After all, he married her, so there must have been something about that horsey twit that was at least marginally redeeming…right?
After ‘the wife’ left, I sat and had another beer with Josh. Things were beginning to get a little fuzzy around the edges and I figured it was likely getting to be time for me to hail a cab and go home. Someone had purchased what appeared to be a double shot of whiskey for Josh.
As I finished my beer and excused myself to leave, I glanced at the whiskey.
“You gonna finish that?” I said, one eyebrow raised.
Josh laughed and said “Why, you want it? I don’t know if I can. Someone bought it for me.”
I picked up the glass and slugged it back.
I said my goodbye and disappeared out into the muggy night, hailed a cab and went home.
I remember I sort-of slid into the cab face first and I silently prayed that Josh did not see me stumble-bumming myself into the back of a cab.
At this point, my memory goes black.
The next morning, I was uncertain as to how I arrived at home. I awoke in my bed in only my undergarments, which I thought was a bit out-of-character for me since I seldom sleep without pajamas.
Fighting a hang-over (quite unsuccessfully, I might add–should NOT have drank that whiskey. How does the adage go? “Beer before liquor…” Um. Yeeeeeeah.), I tried to piece together the end of my evening.
I was able to re-confirm that I had taken a cab as I found my cab receipt in the elevator of my building.
Oops.
I had hoped I hadn’t made a total asshole of myself, but another part of me didn’t really care.
After all, I was a pretty girl with normal-sized teeth and gums.
I also had an excellent handshake.
And I only had to answer to a cat.
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