Ode To Grooveva

I clearly remember the first time I met Grooveva. It was the first meeting of my, at the time, new boyfriends friends. She had her Bukowski. The occasion was open mic night at the Big Fish in Glendale. The part of Glendale near the railroad tracks and warehouses. Real classy. Nonetheless, I was nervous as hell. Grooveva, with several drinks in hand, threw a few off hand comments my way and then became absorbed in the music and redneck scenery of the locals of the bar. I, not knowing her, took it as a personal snub. Newly in love, I was convinced she had a crush on (hm, was going to say my man but anyone who has met him would know that just is not fitting) this guy I was with. This continued on for a while, but I soon realized she was a part of this family of friends. The ex assured me there was nothing to worry about. And I knew there wasnt.

So, one day, in the after-show diner meet-up (the ex is a musician), Grooveva and I were both saying how we wanted to see About Schmidt and had afternoons off. I suggested meet up and go together. Later, I learned, this shocked everyone else at the table. Not sure why. (In retrospect, I see, that we were both the outsiders of the group, the stray dogs, so to speak, of the family, and were supposed to be eternally loyal and grateful, not go off and start our own game of fetch).

Now, I see, this is the perfect Grooveva movie: all mushy and heartwarming with a cool and nonchalant exterior.

However, the true depth of Groovevas humanity came post break-up (between my ex and I). Out of all the family, she was the one who made the effort to maintain friendships on both sides and did so not only successfully, but with grace and ease.

On the rare occasion that someone asks how we met, I am still amused by this story. Out of all of the people I met through the ex, initially, Grooveva and I seemed least likely candidates for friendship.

If our going to a movie shocked the family, I can only imagine what our pending trip to Costa Rica would register on their surprise meters. Hell, I know they probably could care less what I do with my time (really, who does care? Perhaps those bothering to read this). . . but . . . still, the beauty of the unexpected and hidden treasures in interacting with other human beings make it all worth muddling through.

So, Grooveva, thanks for keeping me in the loop of your world (and all the great show tips). Looking forward to our adventures down south.