Rock n' Roll n' Romance

 Pat in Stanley Park, Seattle

Pat in Stanley Park, Seattle

On one of our first dates, Pat and I were riding in his beloved ‘97 Chevy Tracker (RIP “Sophia”) on the way to see a movie, listening to a mixed CD. Stroke 9’s Little Black Backpack came on and I must have said, “Is this Stroke 9?” with a hint of concern in my voice because he went to skip over it and I yelled, “NO” and swatted his hand away.

Don't want to talk about it, I say why not! Don't want to think about it, I say there's got...

Do you remember that song? Because it’s by far one of the more obscure favorites of mine from the late 90s (the list also includes Everything You Want and You're a God by Vertical Horizon). It's off their Nasty Little Thoughts albumthe only Stroke 9 album that achieved any real commercial success. And out of all of the 200+ CDs in Pat’s CD binder, he happened to choose the mix with that song. The serendipity was hard to ignore. It was pretty much in that moment, first or second date in late October 2009, that I knew we were meant to be.

("When are you going to get married?")

We’ve lived together for five years in our Trinity in Queen Village, one of the quainter neighborhoods in Philadelphia. We’ve been blessed by the rental gods. We love our neighbors. We love our neighborhood. We’ve finally figured out(-ish) how to live in 480 square feet of space: there’s no such thing as “save it, we may want it some day,” we have anti-slip tape on our old colonial-Williamsburg-style steps, we have different kinds of rice displayed in mason jars…. And two years ago we adopted our first kid: a 72-lb pitbull-mix named Dasha.

("Does he want to get married?")

The best way to describe Pat is: he’s like a big ol’ bundle of joy. A nice supplement to my naturally dour disposition (for our dynamic: think April and Andy on Parks and Rec, but make Andy smarter and you’ve got us). But I think it’s a little demeaning to make him that two-dimensional so I’ll say he also has his dark moods and bad behaviors, but as a general one-word descriptor you’d just call him: “happy.”

("Why aren't you married?")

It’s been fun to watch him grow as a human. He looks nothing like when we first met, and while his personality hasn’t changed much, he’s become a more refined version of him. It’s happening to all of us close-to-30-year-old humans. It’s a fun time of life, especially if you’re like me and don’t want kids so you have no impending deadline of doom.

("When's the wedding?")

He’s got some odd hobbies, all of which I appreciate. One of which is his maintenance of an ongoing list of band names. As far as I know, there is no plan to have a band with any of these names, but why not make a list. Life is short.

 

Pat's List of Band Names

Ritualistic Tea Party
Analog Nation
Childless Mother
The French Ticklers
Suicidal Life Coach
Stone Child
Sordid Materials
Doc Brown and the DeLoreans
Shoes in the Dryer
Digital Addict
Blacktop Revolution
No-Tell Motel
Pop Pollution
Jambrosia
Doughnut Top
Chairman Meow
Cone of Shame
G-raffee
Car Park Rant (C.P.R.)
Boisterous Mute
Pity Party
Silly Little Men
Selfish Shell Fish
Last Night's Shirt
Coffee Catastrophe
Shrunken Sheik
Cops & Robbers
Mork from Ork
Well-Seasoned Hobo
Turkey Bird
Electric Bubble Buddy
Wet Bananas
Ball Pit Brawlers
Apathetic Aardvark
Kid Vegas
Best Friends for Never
Hippo Hippocampus
Blowing Sound
The Crotch Crumbs
Z is for Zebra
The Bungle
Col. Cadet & the Space Babes
Limewire Larceny
Nap-Star
Kings of Content
Lunch Meat Master
The Plastic Willies
Fanny Fatigue
Handful of Toes
Unique Uniq
Clubby the Seal
A Century of Sleep
Vanilla Villain
Igor Gets the Girl
Killing with Candor
Too Many Toothpicks
Bounce House Banshee
Thick Thistle
THOT's Thoughts
Turtle Sanctuary
The Melks
Funky Brewster
Nas-cooter
Spooky Tooth
Polyester Pimps
Cul-di-sac Rap
Dingo Daycare
Call Me Clint
HeteroNorman
All the Walls
Four-Fingered Fetus
Topless Tapas and the Whore D'oeuvres
A Plethora of Dumb
Lamb Chop and the Meat Sweats
Freaks on Fleek
The Ace-Holes
That Guy and the No Names
Abra-Cadaver
 

Since this is my blog and I can do whatever I want I’ll probably start featuring more from him from time to time. Because he’s creative and weird in his own way. And he would never have a blog. But I would also never intentionally watch football. But that’s why we work because on Sundays we’re both busy with what we like to do. This is modern romance people.


 

And maybe one day we’ll get married. That could be neat.