When last we saw Beth and Eddie, Eddie had asked for permission from the president of the college to date Beth. Beth had said she would go out with him if he got permission. He did, and she didn’t.
SHE SAID
Yes, it was stupid. I know. I could have saved myself plenty of angst. The relationship with the reporter continued its death spiral until April 1994. He had moved out of town by this point and I was thinking of joining him. I even found a job. At the very last moment possible, the small voice of reason inside finally broke free (think Jojo’s “yop” from “Horton Hears a Who”). I backed out of the job, and the “relationship,” such as it was, dissolved.
This is where Beth gets her groove back, thanks to Eddie.
I switched from PR at SCAD to reporting at a local television station. Like a true multitasker, I also started doing weather on Sundays, and serving as a DJ for the country station connected to the TV station. Free concert tickets — woohoo! I hadn’t previously been a country music fan, but that all changed during my tenure as K.C. Quinn. (I couldn’t use my real name, of course, because I was a reporter and that would be weird. I wanted to be called Moonpie Jones, but they wouldn’t let me.)
After the breakup, I quickly took up with another reporter in town, but was considering other options.
HE SAID
I am not sure, but I think she is talking here about the man with the concaved chest I referred to as “Stick Figure.”
SHE SAID
I had a chance to go to the Sawyer Brown/Tim McGraw/Diamond Rio concert, and I decided to take Eddie. We had begun chatting quite regularly at this point, but it was all strictly platonic.
HE SAID
I couldn’t believe she finally called me to ask for a date. “A country concert? I’m sure I’ll find lots of lively Puerto Ricans there,” I thought. But undeterred, I saw my chance and took it. I’d never been to a country concert. Sawyer who? Wasn’t he in a book? But it was Beth, so I went. I like all kinds of music, and I did have a good time.
SHE SAID
It was this night that Eddie informed me that I should lay off the dudes for six months, just date casually, and figure out what I really wanted. Bold, no?
HE SAID
It was all part of my master plan. The friend in me wanted her to stop trying to date people seriously for a while. The guy in me wanted her to continue her behavior and date me next. But she was never going to be happy until she figured out what she really wanted. And I was hoping it was me. You know, that whole “letting the bird go” thing.
SHE SAID
After the concert, I drove him home. If you are wondering why he never drove, it is because he had a craptastic Civic that barely fit one person, and it was always broken down. Sexy.
HE SAID
That’s why I walked a lot.
SHE SAID
In the parking lot of his apartment, we had our first kiss.
HE SAID
The kiss was very nice.
SHE SAID
But it was very short and sweet. He broke it off, and I said, “That’s it? I waited years for that?”
He said, “You played hard to get, and now it is my turn.”
I was hooked.
But I did what he said. For once.
Up next: The jig is up
My memory is so fuzzy from that time. Damn those journals living in a different city! I remember the weightlifting belts traveling in a pack, and my temporary, and useless, infatuation with Eggy. I thought the college boyfriend was wimpy and the reporter showed his true colors! Eddie by a landslide!
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Oh Jen, I miss you so much! I had forgotten about the Eggy crush. Spades Club was a wonderful period in my life and I’m happy for those memories (despite the later pain).
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“A country concert? I’m sure I’ll find lots of lively Puerto Ricans there”
LMAO! And impatiently waiting for the next installment….
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