"It is! My dad played guitar, and my mom sang, and later, Nick's mom asked if either of her daughters sang, and if they did, if she could pass their phone number's on to her son, because he was looking for a new singer."

He laughed.

"So my parents come home that night. I'm alone on the couch, probably watching VH1 and randomly breaking out in tears, which is what depression is like for me sometimes. And my parents ask if I'm interested in being in a band. And I remember them explaining that it was a bunch of juniors from St. Marks. And I remember thinking, Fuck no. And then they said, Well, think about it. And then I figured that I had nothing to lose."

"I'm so glad you showed up," he said.

Sometimes we lay in bed and coo for hours, rolling over the particulars of how this came to be.

After being in the band for a year and a half, and playing a few shows in Deep Ellum, things were good. We got together once a week to play the same songs and learn some new ones, but I really hung onto those Saturdays.

"You always left right after rehearsals," he said. "I mean, I always thought you were cool and gorgeous, but I never thought I'd get to know you."

"You also had some girlfriends at the time," I said.

"That's true."

Our guitarist, Nick, tried to give me a hug once. I was kind of hustling to get out of our drummers living room where we rehearsed faster than anyone else. I hated being the last person to leave because I'd feel lonely. I guess that's a weird way to see how much I liked these guys.

Nick caught up with me outside.