Slept On: Polyrhythm Addicts, Rhyme Related
Editor's note: This is the second of a three-part story. Read Part One here.
Before we met up with Ruby and Pimento, Elton and I went to eat at Stanley's. We talked more about music, our jobs, past relationships. He talked a lot about himself, which was fine since I'm a better listener than talker. He'd offered it up before I'd even thought to ask: "Yeah, I'm single right now. Just getting over someone."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."
"No, it's cool." He finished his drink, his fourth. "But it was the longest relationship I've ever had."
"How long?"
"Three months."
"Oh..." My shortest relationship was two years.
I don't remember too much about the show except that (1) Justine was just as hot as I'd hoped she'd be; and (2) I thought Elton might have a drinking problem. The show was short, yet he managed to have four more drinks while we were there, making his total eight drinks in like, two hours, but he didn't seem at all affected. Meanwhile, I'd had my third beer and was all, "Wooooo! Rock and roll!" and when we left the Park West, I was all stumbly. Elton suggested we go to a bar, but my apartment was nearby so I said we could all just hang out there. "Have any beer?" Elton asked. I did and so he said he was down. Ruby, Pimento, Elton, and I sat around and listened to music and talked and Elton drank almost everything I had in the fridge. Ruby and Pimento left around one, not interested in keeping up with him. And still, Elton didn't seem drunk—a little looser, maybe—but nowhere near as drunk as any normal person would have been.
After they left, of course, we started making out. He was a very good kisser; it had been so long since I'd made out with anyone, I forgot how much fun it could be.
"I had a great time tonight," he lounged back against my futon.
"Me, too..."
The next time I looked at the clock, it was three. And as much as I was enjoying myself, I was beat. I sat up, "Hey…it's really late and I'm kind of tired—"
"So you want me to spend the night?"
"Uh…" I mean, I wasn't a Rules girl or anything even close, but I wasn't there yet. "No, not tonight."
He sat up. "Wait—nobody's ever told me 'no' before." He seemed kind of confused.
"Yeah, well, maybe next time—"
He looked at me with this expression of utter disbelief, "But it seemed like you were having a good time there."
"I was, but I've got to get some sleep."
"Okay." He got himself together and used the bathroom. "Well, I'll see you later?"
"Yeah."
He walked out, looking very, very surprised.
The next morning, Elton stopped by my desk. "Let's get a coffee." On the way to Dunkin' Donuts, he asked, "Do you have plans on Friday?"
"No, but I don't usually go out on Fridays."
"You don't? What do you do?"
"I like to rent movies, eat takeout. That kind of thing."
He laughed, "You're turning down a date with me to fucking rent movies instead? What the hell is that?"
"Look, I just want to come home at the end of the week and do nothing."
"I can't believe this," he shook his head and seemed kind of pissed. "Okay, how about Saturday night?"
"That sounds good."
"Fine. We'll go out for drinks."
We got back to the building and made out in the elevator.
On Saturday, we went to Danny's. I'd never been before and liked it right away. Good music, good beer selection. When we walked in, the bartender said, "Elton! Didn't I see your drunk ass here just last night?"
Elton went to the bar and did that guy handshake thing with the bartender, "I pay your bills, man." He turned to me, "Schmitty, this is Iseult."
Schmitty gave me the "What's up" head nod. "What are you drinking? Usual?"
"Yeah, and whatever she's having."
"I'll have a Bass."
We got our drinks (double bourbon for him) and made our way from the bar to a crowded sitting area. I noticed that at least one out of every three girls there said "hello" to Elton as we walked back. We sat down but it was too noisy and too packed to have a conversation, and I felt weird that so many people knew him and were staring at us. A skinny blonde with long hair and smoky eyeliner slid next to Elton on the banquette and handed him a drink, "Double bourbon, right?"
"Thanks," he downed his first drink and started on this one.
"You never called me back," she breathed into his ear. "Didn't we have a good time?" She ran her hand along his knee.
He scooted over. "Oh, hey, Rachel. This is Iseult."
Rachel looked at me like I was a piece of shit on her shoe. "Oh. Hi." I half smiled and waved. She peeled herself off the seat and said to Elton, "You still have my number." We both watched her slink away.
Elton leaned over, "I'm sorry about that. She's … just a friend."
"Okay," I sipped my beer and looked around the room, wondering how many more Rachels were in the house. And the thing of it was that I didn't much care. I wasn't upset or insulted. I actually felt kind of bad for Rachel. Especially since it was becoming increasingly clearer that Elton was not much more than a pretty face. But I wasn't immune to the charms of a pretty face, so when he asked if I wanted to go back to his place, I actually said, "Yes."
His apartment was sparse. The only furniture in the main room was a ratty couch, a wooden armchair, a computer desk, and a futon. Empty beer bottles littered a warped kitchen table and surrounded the trashcan. He wasn't a CD or album person; he kept all his music on his computer and when he came back from getting beers from the fridge, he played something I'd never heard before. "What is this?" I asked. The track was funky. A bass line shimmied down into a deep thump. The sound was a little like Digable Planets, but more raw, less jazzy. He came over and sat next to me on the couch, started kissing my neck, "It's the Polyrhythm Addicts. Came out last year, but nobody really got into them." It was a good album to make out to, which we did—in between Elton's drinking. This time he seemed kind of drunk. But the kissing was still good and the super chunky beat definitely made you want to bob your head.
After a while, Elton wanted me to bob my head in the direction of his crotch, however, and I wasn't interested.
"What are you doing?" I sat back against the arm of the couch.
"Sorry," he slurred. "I thought you wanted to—"
"What? No, I don't. When a girl wants to, she'll definitely let you know. You don't need to push anyone's head around."
"Okay, okay!" He laid back on the couch. "Man, you're like, a total tease."
I laughed, "Oh, so not going down on you makes me a tease? Give me a fucking break." I got my stuff together.
"Wait, wait, wait," he grabbed my arm. "I'm sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. I think I'm a little drunk—not that that excuses anything, but—"
"You're damn right."
"Right, but I'm sorry. You don't have to go."
"You said it yourself: You're drunk. So I'm going to take off."
"Okay." He got up and had to steady himself against the couch. "I'll wait with you until you get a cab."
Polyrhythm Addicts, Rhyme Related
Eventually purchased at Virgin Megastore, Michigan Avenue, Chicago, sometime in 2001.
Before we met up with Ruby and Pimento, Elton and I went to eat at Stanley's. We talked more about music, our jobs, past relationships. He talked a lot about himself, which was fine since I'm a better listener than talker. He'd offered it up before I'd even thought to ask: "Yeah, I'm single right now. Just getting over someone."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."
"No, it's cool." He finished his drink, his fourth. "But it was the longest relationship I've ever had."
"How long?"
"Three months."
"Oh..." My shortest relationship was two years.
I don't remember too much about the show except that (1) Justine was just as hot as I'd hoped she'd be; and (2) I thought Elton might have a drinking problem. The show was short, yet he managed to have four more drinks while we were there, making his total eight drinks in like, two hours, but he didn't seem at all affected. Meanwhile, I'd had my third beer and was all, "Wooooo! Rock and roll!" and when we left the Park West, I was all stumbly. Elton suggested we go to a bar, but my apartment was nearby so I said we could all just hang out there. "Have any beer?" Elton asked. I did and so he said he was down. Ruby, Pimento, Elton, and I sat around and listened to music and talked and Elton drank almost everything I had in the fridge. Ruby and Pimento left around one, not interested in keeping up with him. And still, Elton didn't seem drunk—a little looser, maybe—but nowhere near as drunk as any normal person would have been.
After they left, of course, we started making out. He was a very good kisser; it had been so long since I'd made out with anyone, I forgot how much fun it could be.
"I had a great time tonight," he lounged back against my futon.
"Me, too..."
The next time I looked at the clock, it was three. And as much as I was enjoying myself, I was beat. I sat up, "Hey…it's really late and I'm kind of tired—"
"So you want me to spend the night?"
"Uh…" I mean, I wasn't a Rules girl or anything even close, but I wasn't there yet. "No, not tonight."
He sat up. "Wait—nobody's ever told me 'no' before." He seemed kind of confused.
"Yeah, well, maybe next time—"
He looked at me with this expression of utter disbelief, "But it seemed like you were having a good time there."
"I was, but I've got to get some sleep."
"Okay." He got himself together and used the bathroom. "Well, I'll see you later?"
"Yeah."
He walked out, looking very, very surprised.
The next morning, Elton stopped by my desk. "Let's get a coffee." On the way to Dunkin' Donuts, he asked, "Do you have plans on Friday?"
"No, but I don't usually go out on Fridays."
"You don't? What do you do?"
"I like to rent movies, eat takeout. That kind of thing."
He laughed, "You're turning down a date with me to fucking rent movies instead? What the hell is that?"
"Look, I just want to come home at the end of the week and do nothing."
"I can't believe this," he shook his head and seemed kind of pissed. "Okay, how about Saturday night?"
"That sounds good."
"Fine. We'll go out for drinks."
We got back to the building and made out in the elevator.
On Saturday, we went to Danny's. I'd never been before and liked it right away. Good music, good beer selection. When we walked in, the bartender said, "Elton! Didn't I see your drunk ass here just last night?"
Elton went to the bar and did that guy handshake thing with the bartender, "I pay your bills, man." He turned to me, "Schmitty, this is Iseult."
Schmitty gave me the "What's up" head nod. "What are you drinking? Usual?"
"Yeah, and whatever she's having."
"I'll have a Bass."
We got our drinks (double bourbon for him) and made our way from the bar to a crowded sitting area. I noticed that at least one out of every three girls there said "hello" to Elton as we walked back. We sat down but it was too noisy and too packed to have a conversation, and I felt weird that so many people knew him and were staring at us. A skinny blonde with long hair and smoky eyeliner slid next to Elton on the banquette and handed him a drink, "Double bourbon, right?"
"Thanks," he downed his first drink and started on this one.
"You never called me back," she breathed into his ear. "Didn't we have a good time?" She ran her hand along his knee.
He scooted over. "Oh, hey, Rachel. This is Iseult."
Rachel looked at me like I was a piece of shit on her shoe. "Oh. Hi." I half smiled and waved. She peeled herself off the seat and said to Elton, "You still have my number." We both watched her slink away.
Elton leaned over, "I'm sorry about that. She's … just a friend."
"Okay," I sipped my beer and looked around the room, wondering how many more Rachels were in the house. And the thing of it was that I didn't much care. I wasn't upset or insulted. I actually felt kind of bad for Rachel. Especially since it was becoming increasingly clearer that Elton was not much more than a pretty face. But I wasn't immune to the charms of a pretty face, so when he asked if I wanted to go back to his place, I actually said, "Yes."
His apartment was sparse. The only furniture in the main room was a ratty couch, a wooden armchair, a computer desk, and a futon. Empty beer bottles littered a warped kitchen table and surrounded the trashcan. He wasn't a CD or album person; he kept all his music on his computer and when he came back from getting beers from the fridge, he played something I'd never heard before. "What is this?" I asked. The track was funky. A bass line shimmied down into a deep thump. The sound was a little like Digable Planets, but more raw, less jazzy. He came over and sat next to me on the couch, started kissing my neck, "It's the Polyrhythm Addicts. Came out last year, but nobody really got into them." It was a good album to make out to, which we did—in between Elton's drinking. This time he seemed kind of drunk. But the kissing was still good and the super chunky beat definitely made you want to bob your head.
After a while, Elton wanted me to bob my head in the direction of his crotch, however, and I wasn't interested.
"What are you doing?" I sat back against the arm of the couch.
"Sorry," he slurred. "I thought you wanted to—"
"What? No, I don't. When a girl wants to, she'll definitely let you know. You don't need to push anyone's head around."
"Okay, okay!" He laid back on the couch. "Man, you're like, a total tease."
I laughed, "Oh, so not going down on you makes me a tease? Give me a fucking break." I got my stuff together.
"Wait, wait, wait," he grabbed my arm. "I'm sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. I think I'm a little drunk—not that that excuses anything, but—"
"You're damn right."
"Right, but I'm sorry. You don't have to go."
"You said it yourself: You're drunk. So I'm going to take off."
"Okay." He got up and had to steady himself against the couch. "I'll wait with you until you get a cab."
Polyrhythm Addicts, Rhyme Related
Eventually purchased at Virgin Megastore, Michigan Avenue, Chicago, sometime in 2001.
posted by Iseult at 5:36 PM
3 Comments:
Oh man. The subtle head push. LIKE WE'RE NOT GOING TO NOTICE.
You know, I barely remember that Elastica show too. But I DO remember how much that guy drank. And that's saying something, because Pimento and I have been known to put them away. -Ruby
I know! The head push is so goddamn tacky. Like, I know it's there, and I'm totally fine doing it--WHEN I WANT TO.
Ruby -- I remember thinking that exact same thing. You & Pimento could definitely drink and keep your shit together, but this cat was in total need of some 12 steps.
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