Wednesday, April 2, 2008

For some of life's interludes, love is the drugS

Opening my second shipment of "love drugs" made me nostalgic for the days when DH and I thought love WAS the drug that would turn us into a family someday. This Roxy Music video takes me back to a night in April 1990 — 18 years ago! — when DH walked me to his place (a teeny-tiny wreck of an efficiency) to call me a cab.

It was very late — past closing time at the pub where a group of us met Tuesdays for burgers, brews, and boisterous fun. The weather that day had been unseasonably gorgeous, making it possible for us to be the first group of "summer" to hold court in the bar's iron-fenced, cobblestoned beer garden. (At least until we started freezing and had to go inside.) All of us were either out of college and high on the first blush of total independence, or in graduate school, excitedly nabbing fellowships and grants and talking about changing the world through scientific research. Everybody in the bunch was happy, carefree, and eager to explore the seemingly wide-open field of possibilities ahead.

That particular Tuesday party broke up much later than usual. (It was a weeknight, we did have places to be the next morning, and we weren't the kids we used to be!) Under such circumstances the boys typically made sure the girls had safe passage home, and DH volunteered to look after me that night. We were 23/24 then and wouldn't start dating for another couple of months. Back at his place, I started getting to know him on a more personal level than I had before. We talked and laughed, then we talked and laughed some more. DH showed me, hilariously, how he functioned in that 10' x 10' box of a living space. I got to hear the feral cat living outside his window, screeching and moaning, just the way DH had actually NOT exaggerated at the bar. We discussed families, big plans, all the usual stuff.

And then DH showed me his entire album collection, one by a hundred and one. I teased him about drawing out the exhibit to spend more time with me. He didn't deny it. He just forged ahead, tossing aside "an old girlfriend's" Belinda Carlisle album, and then stopping to lovingly present his prized Roxy Music LPs.

Seems I was the first girl he knew that had ever heard of 'em. It's such a small thing, but I swear that silly shared moment of "I like Roxy Music, too!" helped seal our fates. Things started feeling awkward, so it was time for me to go. We listened to "Love Is the Drug" as I waited for my cab.

Over the next several weeks, I frequently asked whether he'd invited any other girls in to see his "etchings." He remained adamant that I was the only one who'd EVER fallen for that one. We regularly saw each other for group activities (of which there were many) and even a few one-on-one "friends" outings. We were already in love. But it wasn't until June of that year, just after our first real date, that DH would officially take charge of my safe passage home — from any location or life situation — for good.

I picked a recent performance video of the song because it looks like we're all still going strong.

No comments: