So I had a pretty good evening last Saturday. I went downtown for a tribute performance to Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.... the Jersey Boys. Excellent show I might add. I love these kind of deals.
For about nine months of the year, there is a monthly tribute to everyone from Patsy Kline let's say to Elvis Presley. From Motown to the Rat Pack. From The Bee Gees to George Burns in Say Goodnight Gracie. So up my alley. Besides, I know every word to every song any of these people sing. Talk about being from "my era". And, everyone can just jump up and dance all over the place if they want. I particularly love when the oldie goldies... no pun intended... get up and dance to either BENNIE AND THE JETS or NEW YORK, NEW YORK or even SURFIN' USA perhaps. The place does sorta rock out, actually. I think the week after next is a tribute to Eric Clapton, but I'm not sure. Naturally I have tickets to that, too.
In the meantime, I did indeed have lots of fun Saturday but the day didn't quite begin that way. Wanna know why?? Get this... the guy I was seeing... boom. HE GAVE ME THE HEAVE HO. As in: IT'S OVER. NICE KNOWING YOU. WE'LL CERTAINLY BE FRIENDS BUT SORRY, WE'RE NOT A MATCH. Which is completely true but still. Can you believe it?? OMG. I was dumped. Which is pretty unusual since truth be told, it's usually ME who does the dumping. But no big deal. It happens to the best of us.
On the other hand, maybe dumped is a harsh word. For the fact is: that although I had a lovely time being with him, and we did go out for like maybe nine months, the bottom line is: we just didn't ring each other's bell. And I DO love it when my bell is not only rung, but rung so loudly that it can be heard clear cross the city. This particular match was sorta like a meek ding dong at best. However... in spite of his calling it quits, I did find another who was thrilled to go with me, using HIS ticket of course, and whata ya know. Bingo. We had a great time at the concert!
Plus, we had GREAT seats in the second row, center. Perfect for scanning the adorable songsters to see which is the one that if I were only 30 years younger, I could try to bring home for fun and frolic. On the other hand... who wants anyone THAT age? Man, not me, thanks.
I much prefer men who not only know history but who, like me have LIVED history. As in: actually having LIVED life from the late 40s to the present. I always say that I love being from the era where I lived through the British Invasion, was in Haight Ashbury, was around when the Civil Rights Act of '64 passed, watched Kennedy's funeral live and who basically was there for the sex, drugs and rock and roll revolutions. Now THAT was growing up. None of this bullshit of seeing Sky King and Leave to Beaver and Make Room for Daddy and the Donna Reed Show in reruns only.
Anyway, the Jersey Boys sung a slew of wonderful hits and I sang right along with them. So did everyone else who was there. Now that I think of it, I have BEEN to New Jersey. Several times, in fact. No wonder... one of my best girlfriends live there. Back in the good ole days I even DROVE on the Garden State Parkway... something I wouldn't do now if you paid me MILLIONS. I'd rather just go ahead and have my heart attack right smack there in the parking lot of the car rental place rather than have it on the actual highway itself. I can't even believe I ever DID that, now that I think of it. Ahhh... to be young again. But whatever.
All I know is that the guy who dumped me missed a great show. And that I had a fabulous time, regardless. I know ... easy come easy go as they say. The good news however is that I still have an extra ticket for the Eric Clapton tribute. Anyone free next Saturday night?