Valley Village, CA: It was Wednesday and the concert was Saturday. I had purchased tickets months prior -- yes, purchased, which is strange to someone who works in the industry and relies on trading favors as a way to see concerts when they roll into town. But this show was not to be missed and I couldn't afford to see if I still had any connections on the tour.
The Monkees were back at it again, this time though, sadly, without Davy. The only consolation would be that Mike would be there. My least favorite growing up (I blame the hat), but on the top of my list as an adult (I credit the songs). The only problem was: I didn't have a date.
I took to social media and posted my plea:
I got a variety of responses including:
If I could be in L.A., I would totally be there!
Looking up their discography right now!
You have got to be kidding me.
(thanks alot, MMS)
But late that night, I received the following email:
I know this might be out of the blue, but do you still need a date for the Monkees show on Saturday? I just happen to have some extra airline points and a trip to LA would be a nice change of weather from Nashville....
I looked at the email address and thought to myself: who is this? I searched my inbox and found an exchange from the same email address two weeks before.
He had written me out of the blue. We had met a couple of times over the years, he told me. He was a roadie as well and we had a handful of mutual friends. Every so often he had stumbled across my blog and there were a few serendipitous postings to something going on in his life. I had responded -- I do remember his name and our mutual friends were some of my favorite people in the world. I couldn't quite place a time we had met, but the sentiment of reaching out made the actual knowing him feel irrelevant.
Yet I was confused: a virtual stranger was offering to fly across the country to be my date for the evening? He even offered to take me to dinner first. What the hell was he thinking? Why would he even make this lavish offer? It was totally random and nonsensical. Anyone willing to make this kind of spontaneous proposition must be just a little bit crazy.
Which is why I said yes.
Three days later, he arrived at my door. We went to dinner and talked about our lives: how we got into this business, where we see ourselves going, how lucky we are to be doing what we do. He laughed as he pointed out the flip side of the card which reserved our table:
I smiled... it was close. I was almost exactly where I needed to be. Where I really needed to be was at The Greek. We made our way there (side note: driving to a concert as an audience member is NOT a fun experience - I'm sticking to arriving on a tour bus next time) and once inside, I was transported to a world of musical memories. The surviving members of the Monkees were even older than I remember the last time I saw them and Mike used an iPad teleprompter on his mic stand to remember the words to his songs. Though it was sad and a little eerie to not see little 5'3" Davy do his Axl Rose-like-dance, it was still fantastic. They even did some of their not-as-famous hits (usually written by Mike), including Daily Nightly, one of the first songs to feature a Moog synthesizer, which Mike attempted to recreate verbally. #psychedelic
The next day, I invited my world-traveling date to go with me to a place I enjoy going to on Sunday mornings when I'm in this town: St. Agatha's. He accepted, even though it wasn't necessarily something he does on his own. Afterwards, over iced caffeinated beverages from Fido West, I asked him: why? Why would you offer to fly all the way across the country to take me on a date? He paused for a moment, then replied:
There's a line from the movie The Breakfast Club that is
"why are you being so nice to me?"
The reply was "because you're letting me."
And I got it. This is vulnerability. Not only for him to offer and actually fly across the country, but for me to say yes. My fear of 'am I worth getting to know?' was answered in a a simple (yet grand) gesture: yes. The real me -- the one who buys tickets to see the Monkees in concert, and spends Sunday mornings at a gospel church, and worries about the future, and blogs about the past -- she is worth it.
Speaking of the future... who knows? But that's not what this weekend was about. This was about confirming that when you "invite unlimited abundance into your life," you can receive it. But you need to be willing to let it in. In the exact moment I wondered if I was worth it, he showed me that I was... and I accepted it.
And, with thanks special to The Monkees, he made me a believer.