Bam

It started on a muggy night in May out on a back bar patio. I was posing in an admittedly duck-like manner for a picture with one of my best friends when I saw a James Dean look-alike in a beanie walk by. 

Now, I have said it before, but I will say it again: BEWARE boys in beanies, especially boys in beanies in bars. They will mess you up EVERY goddamn time... I promise you.

I, however, did not heed my own warning. Instead of avoiding said beanie wearer, I made flirty eye contact with him a few times and walked the long away around the bar just so he could get a fantastic look at me in all my Saturday night glory. Pure class. When he slipped outside to smoke (gag but it helped with the whole James Dean vibe), I borrowed a pen from my favorite bartender and scribbled down my name & number on the back of a random dude's business card.

I wish I could say that I was effortlessly cool when I first talked to him, but the truth of the matter is, I was way too nervous so I just marched up to his side and blurted out, "Do you have a girlfriend?" 

He looked up, surprised, and I'm sure it seemed like a strange question to him, but y'all know my propensity to find married/taken crazies so it seemed like something to get out of the way upfront. 

But with a lazy smile and a slow shake of his head, he answered, "No."

Again, I wish I could tell you I was cooler about the whole thing, but alas, this was me after a few Budlights so in the glow of the neon & with Carly Rae Jepsen's 'Call Me Maybe' blaring from inside, I just handed him my number with a loud, "You're sexual. Here's my number."

And then I bailed as fast as my flip-flops could carry me. 

Despite my clumsy introduction, we started texted and ended up, laughing, on said back bar patio over a couple (more) beers and the rest of the romance unfolded in similar fashion.

Bam (which is what I will be calling him for the remainder of this post) was more artsy and creative than anyone I'd ever dated and I found something endlessly romantic in all the epic potential I thought we had tripped into. Sure, he was a little bit flaky, but I chalked that up as a small pitfall while continuing to hum along to lame Katy Perry songs and scribbling poetry on napkins. Gross, I know. 

It was a Sunday afternoon when I first saw my phone ringing. It was my favorite ginger Dead Head, one of Bam's best friends who spent a considerable amount of time with us (and who spent a considerable amount of time in the same tie-dye Grateful Dead shirt) so I answered with a friendly hello. He told me that Bam's phone had died, but that they were all heading down to the local divebar they loved and that they wanted me to come too.

Since I was planning on hanging out with my friend Samarama anyways, we decided to meet up there so she could meet the object of my (apparently addled) affections. 

We walked into the small dingy bar to be met with a smell that I can only describe as someone's breath who smoked seven thousand cigarettes consecutively & then died while eating a cheeseburger. 

Trying not to be daunted, I let my eyes adjust and saw him over by the pool table with a few of his friends. He was laughing and looking flawless until he saw me at which point his face went simultaneously pale & serious.

He made his way over to us, kissing my cheek hurriedly, "Um... hey... what's up? What are you... um, what are you doing here?"

I explained, briefly, that Dead Head Fred Weasley had invited us. Despite the fact that I hadn't just randomly stalked him to his current location, he was still acting weird. Not knowing what to do about his random pouty mood or the shady shenanigans unfolding on the bar patio, Samarama picked some reggae songs on the jukebox, I ordered us two very large tropical drinks that turned out to be an extremely questionable color & we tried to make the best of a bad situation at our own table.

Bam & Dead Head Weasley bopped around the bar, settling down next to us every once in awhile, to entertain us with their drunk shenanigans. Bam didn't seem very tipsy, but his friend was trashed so he slumped himself into the chair next to Samarama while Bam drew lazy circles on my back and asked me how my day was. 

Happy that he was starting to finally act normal, I was about to answer when an extremely tall skinny black man in the brightest pink polo I'd ever seen walked over & Bam introduced him to me as Sincere. & while I shall be referring to him as Rando McFroHawk for the rest of this post, I want everyone to understand that his ACTUAL name that he allowed people to call him was: Sincere. 

No joke, when I shook his hand, he smiled sleepily & purred, "The name's Sincere, baby... sincerely Sincere."

I. Cannot. Make. This. Shit. Up.

We had a few more rounds before I decided I was done with whatever circus was currently unfolding & with Bam still acting sporadically distant, I paid our tab & started to say our goodbyes. Noticing that we were close to leaving, Bam was instantly sweet again, "Do you want to hang out a little bit later? I have some guy stuff to do with my boys, but then I can call you & we can hang out. Just us."

The 'just us' was an especially smart move, considering I'd been hoping to spend time just the two of us since going through some family drama that had me wanting to bundle underneath blankets for the rest of ever. 

I was talking to Samarama in the parking lot because we'd driven separately when Dead Head Weasley, Bam and Rando McFroHawk came walking around from the back door. Knowing that his apartment was a good walking distance, I asked if they wanted a ride back to his place, trying to be nice.

Dead Head Weasley and Rando McFroHawk both reacted like little kids running downstairs to open Christmas presents where Bam looked like I'd asked him to walk the plank on a pirate ship.

Not even wanting to deal with that drama, I just got in the car quietly and we were driving in silence for a few minutes when Rando McFroHawk piped up from the back seat, "Hey, can we stop up here somewhere so I can get an Arizona Ice Tea, boo-boo? My mouth is real dry... real dry, like the desert, boo." 

"Sure," I shrugged, pulling over shortly after into a gas station parking lot. 

At this point, Dead Head Weasley was feeling all the alcohol he'd been unceremoniously dumping into his body and while we were parked, he started yelling slurred obscenities out the window at some guy getting into a pick-up truck. With a toddler. He honestly looked like this in my backseat:

I turned around to tell him to kindly shut up & stop harassing innocent civilians when Rando McFroHawk got back into the car and we started to pull away. At which point, Dead Head Weasley started to lose his damn mind, screaming and punching the back of my seat. It took one, "Turn this car around, BITCH!" and another punch on the back of my headrest for me to slam on my brakes, almost sending Bam into the dashboard. 

"Don't you EVER talk to her like that!" Bam shouted, jumping out of the passenger seat and sprinting around the car to pull Dead Head out in what I'm assuming was a grand attempt to defend my honor. Knowing they were both drunk and would likely get a public intox charge, I turned to where Rando McFroHawk was sipping on his drink and watching them out of the window.

"What should we do?" I asked, trying to decide if it was worth stepping between two boys pumped up on double whiskeys.

"Just drive, let's go chill somewhere. Crazy ass white boys, man. Crazy. ASS. WHITE. Boys. They think I'm ghetto, look at that, what the fuck is they doing?" He simpered (I swear to gawd, he SIMPERED that) and motioned for me to continue to drive.

"I don't even know you," I countered, starting to move out of the car, when Bam and Dead Head, who had apparently settled their differences, got back into the car and I got a muttered apology from the backseat and a kiss on the cheek from the passenger side.

Keep in mind, all this time, I really had to PEE. So as annoyed as I was with the entire situation and as much as I wanted to minion-punch all three of them:

I asked if I could come inside to go the bathroom really quickly before leaving them to whatever the hell 'boys night' entailed.

Bam DEFLATED & then forcefully stated, "You might as well just fucking know!"

With that, he exited the car.

Da. FUCK?

I followed the Three Stooges up to the apartment, not even trying to figure out what that explosion had meant.

I was setting down my purse to head to the bathroom when I turned to see Dead Head Weasley & Rando McFroHawk starting to pull a few little baggies and some needles out of their pockets. They laid some of the stuff out on the table & then all three heads swiveled to watch my reaction.

To be fair, I don't think my facial expression showed more than a slight eyebrow raise before I dipped into the bathroom and locked the door but INTERNALLY, this is what I experienced in those five seconds while I processed the evidence before me:

After mouthing 'WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON' silently to myself in the mirror a few times, I reached into my pocket for my phone and quickly dialed my Ride or Die's number to get a little advice on how to peacefully, and not obviously, escape an apparent drug den.

After we determined that it was most likely meth or heroin chilling out in the open for everyone and Jesus to see, we formulated a clear exit strategy, which basically just involved me snatching my purse, throwing a few 'have a good rest of your nights...or lives' over my shoulder while bolting down the staircase.  

With my game face on, I exited the bathroom with a huge fakey smile and announced, "Alright, boys, I'm going to head out" to go weep into the biggest glass of wine I can pour, "You guys have fun..." with all the drugs & needles & shit, "You can call me whenever..." And by that, I mean, never EVER call me.

Despite my ninja skills (aka making it down three flights of stairs in what felt like sixteen seconds), Bam caught up to me and we spent an intense four hours talking in his apartment parking lot about how he'd gotten into drugs, what the drugs were (heroin... AGAIN) and lots about his past and the ways he wanted to change.

I will spare you the rest of the morbid roller coaster of drama that followed but the moral of this story (despite other lessons that can be found here) is :

BEWARE BOYS IN BEANIES IN BARS. Because in my personal experience, they do a CRAP load of heroin. And while most of them may be pretty hot initially, nobody looks that hot in a mugshot. 

Despite what it might seem from this blog post, however, Bam is not a terrible person. He has (or had) a terrible PROBLEM and while that made him a less than ideal candidate for me to date, I do want the best for him so:

Dear Bam,
Despite the fact that you tend to be more flaky than the Before picture on a Head & Shoulders commercial, I do want you to know that I still care about you. I hope you're sober. I hope you're happy. And please PLEASE burn all your damn beanies. 


xoxox Lolly