Niceties

I came home last night to find the Musician in my house. Second night in a row we're running into each other, except this time? Well, he was at my house. So that doesn't count as much, seeing as though I spend a good deal of time in my own home. But welcome, hello, so glad to see you yet again when I wasn't expecting to. I'm certainly glad I don't have another man with me this time. Perhaps I'll pick up your bass-playing friend next? Oh, do you have a cellist friend? Perhaps a xylophonist? I hear they're big these days.

After my initial annoyance, it became easy. Almost, dare I say, friendly. Like old pals. Sharing stories and telling jokes, we ended up making drinks for the gang. (Oh yeah, the gang. I'm hip.) He played piano, I played nice. It became surprisingly nonchalant. It's been so convoluted, so complex and hard to read with us, this whole un-thing, but last night had a pleasant easiness. I do hope it continues in this fashion, that perhaps we can put it all behind us, that we can start afresh, be friends and run into each other and it won't be weird, it won't be weird. It feels pretty good the way it is. I know you and you know me and you play some mean piano, and sure, I'll play nice. I'll play nice.