I'm all growed up (part 2)

I loved my day off. I did an excellent impression of a beached whale and lay on the couch watching TV. Whenever I got sleepy I hit Mute, and when I woke up I hit Mute again. I did leave for a little while to run errands, but mostly I just lay around. The daytime Law and Order episode was an old one, with Mike Logan and Ben Stone, which made me very happy. I love the Jack episodes, but there are just so many of them. Every so often I get a hankering for Ben Stone and his cheerful, round head.

I did have one work assignment: the producer of the show asked me to call our Salt Lake hotel and have this rental guitar we used in the show couriered back to the music store. Only when I called the hotel they didn't have the guitar anywhere. And the rental store had no record that the client had brought it back himself, so I was all freaking out. I left the client a message asking him exactly where he left the guitar, and I haven't heard back from him, and I left a message with the producer telling her all this, and have not heard back from her either. So somehow we have displaced an expensive rental guitar. I guess I have done everything I can do at this point, but I have such paranoia about my professional abilities that situations like these make me nervous that I misheard the instructions, or I didn't ask the hotel the right questions, or whatever. I should probably just chill out, right? Well, it's hard, but I'll try.

Also I have been enjoying my goofy Haze of Love for the hot technical director, incessantly replaying every conversation we had and every smoldering sex-god look he gave me. He was so damn cool. He oversaw all the technical parts of the show (duh), which meant everything from building the stage to running the lights, sound, and video. So he was incredibly capable and he knew about everything. And even though he was running around frantically the entire week, he never looked anything but calm and unflappable. I probably pestered him with the stupidest questions known to man, and he was very patient. Which makes him a saint.

Plus he was really handsome and the perfect degree of muscle-y. Much older than me, but whatever. Knowing he'd be around all day, catching him looking at me, and joking around with him during what little spare time he had, basically kept me from dying of exhaustion. Without him, the week would have been just a hellish grind, but with him it was a hellish grind with a reason to wear lipstick and my cute pink cardigan.

Since so much of everyone's job on site involved running around backstage, he and I were constantly passing each other and giving little smiles. Sometimes I would look around and catch him watching me from really far away. Around the middle of the week he started greeting me as "hey, babe," which sounds asinine, typed out like that, but was actually adorable.

The best thing EVER happened on Saturday, the last day. I was wearing the magical black skirt that makes me look toned instead of smooshy. He sat talking to the client, whose back was to me, and he was pretending to look at her as she spoke, but was actually looking just past her ear at me the entire time I walked toward him. I am not very good at maintaining eye contact; it makes me uncomfortable, plus I am a blusher, which, at best, is endearing in a cutesy way. But I just held his gaze the entire time I walked by, except for the last second when I broke down and laughed and sort of mouthed "fuck off!" at him.

Dude, he winked at me, the bastard. And kept his eyes right on me.

It was probably the sexiest I have ever felt. As I said, I am cute. I am small and cute and have a very young-looking face, but I never think of myself as sexy. But damn if this guy did not make me feel at that moment that I was actually a maneater. THE maneater. The one Hall & Oates sang a song about.

Now, on most shows, you start really early in the mornings but end at a decent time, so the crew goes out eating and drinking together, but this show involved late nights too, so there was basically no social activity. I would just come back to my hotel every night (happily, right across the street from the convention center), take a shower, watch a few minutes of TV, and fall asleep in the tortuously comfortable bed for about 5 hours until my wake-up call.

As soon as the show ended, the crew starts tearing down all their equipment and packs up the stage, which takes all night. I finished packing all the stuff I had to send back to the office, and went over to Sex God, where he was very commandingly overseeing all the carpentry stuff. He asked if I was done and I said yes, and he asked if I was just going to go to sleep, and I sort of mealymouthed for an Ice Age until he made my freaking YEAR by asking me out for a drink. I was like, you can leave in the middle of all this? Rad. But as we headed out, we ran into the sound guy, who also was done, so he joined us for the drinking. When we got to the one bar in the entire city that was still serving at 12:30 (on a SATURDAY, you guys), of course a whole bunch of other crew people were there too. Which was still fine, except when we went over to them and had chairs added to their circle, the sound guy sat in the one next to me! Gah! And then Sex Godly Hot Man turned around to sit, and saw what had happened, and shot me this little Fucking karma, huh? look, and sat elsewhere. But of course we kept catching each other's eye and smiling, so that made me sort of happy.

He had to leave pretty soon, to get back to the stage stuff, so we didn't get to have any big dramatic making-out goodbye. But for some reason I am still all glowy and giggly about him. It just feels good, having a crush on someone again. Especially when he seemed to be attracted to me, too. It has been so long since I actually liked someone. I go on dates but I haven't really really liked anyone in just so long. And it's a nice feeling.

And I get sent on another show at the end of October, so who knows? Maybe I will see him again.

Fucking hell, people, this was a long post.