I’m like a one woman side show circus, an atrocity exhibition center, if you will. I will sell you tickets with disclaimers of only half of what’s brewing behind the curtains. So, there I am heading a support group. I loathe and love being in the spotlight. It makes my boobs sweat. The adrenaline rush alone could power a small city, think Dallas, folks. I notice him, the guy whose name escapes me. (Uhhh…side note: despite my past rendezvous’ with chemicals my memory is that of an elephant. It’s the nervousness, the anxiety attacks, having to suddenly pee that erase my memory and my word bank.) He’s quiet and staring off into the middle distance. Oh! He’s one of MY people. I can smell my own kind from two states over. It’s a party favor I was born with. What can I say? I’m talented. My meeting ends, he disappears and I ride off with my driver. And there I am stuck in the purple vessel of agony, listening to a different kind of bad music, and desperately hoping I see Mr Space Case once more. To my great pleasure, he shows again and this time, with a friend of mine. SUCCESS!!! I’m in! I don’t have to give details, you know how this went. I blatantly used my friend to stuff my number in this dude’s face. Guess what, he used it the next night. Weird. My people wait a couple of decades but this is good and we agree on a non-committal coffee date. As I get in his ill fitting mini van (if you see him, you’d understand. What is it about metal heads and mismatched vehicles?)first thing I notice is the ‘Blow-N-Go’. The very next thing is the snowflake/spider web super crack in the windshield. Whoa! Memories whoosh! They’re like a montage of first dates and all of them involve car crashes. What? Am I the only one who’s had six first dates that included being involved in car wrecks? Surely not. Nope? Just me? Okay, then. The look I gave him must have been worth my weight in gold because he said, “I wasn’t drunk and I didn’t do that to my windshield.” I just kept on looking at it in silence. He turns the music on…metal. I, now, turn and say, “Thank you for not listening to rap. By the way, you should run now, I’m crazy.” He smiles and says, “You should too. Coffee?” We have been together since that day. Our dog, Mr Bubbles watches Buffy the Vampire Slayer when he’s crated while we’re gone. The coffee was good, so was the kiss, so is Buffy.