Most of the time, Kris and I are on the same page. Even on his most linear days that coincide with my most A.D.D. days, we can figure it out. Every little now and then, though, it starts to occur to me that we should be auditioning for a sitcom or ludicrously comic reality show.
Case in point, an unfolding scenario that occurs over a matter of weeks. The scene involves a dear friend who plans to be in town on a specific date. Since friend is a touring musician, Kris is happy to see if he can't connect friend with any number of the venues where he either plays or has possible connections to their booking calendar.
Things are starting to look good with one of these venues, and some other possibilities begin to develop. Possibilities that involve the potential for Kris to also play with other musicians he respects, and for those guys to open for his visiting friend. For about a day and a half, things seem to be coming together just fine.
Then things change. As they sometimes do when multiple venues and schedules and brains are involved. Friend won't be in town that night, after all. I think that's when it breaks down and girlfriend gets sad her man won't be able to play with the other awesome musicians at the very cool venue and open up for the friend. Maybe she starts to listen a little less carefully.
Naturally he later told me the friend is still coming to town another night, and I'll get to meet him. Just not the original night in question. In fact, I'm sure this is what happened! But because the conversations are occurring between and among so many of other of life's details, the date gets totally screwed up in my head. As in, I think he says it's happening one, maybe two months later. So I'm looking forward to meeting the friend, sure, but y'know, a month is a long way away, and 2-3 months (given that these conversations actually started more than a month before the original gig date in question,) is really far away.
We had some conversations about the details of friend's impending arrival. Kris is looking forward to seeing his friend. I'm looking forward to meeting him. And in his mind, that's happening in a few weeks. In mine? Light years away. Honey must REALLY love this friend. I don't usually hear him talking about things this far out.
Fast forward to last night. He mentions it again. "When is he coming, again?" He tells me a date later on this month. "Um, baby. I thought you said that didn't work out!" Pause on the other end of the phone. "Yeeees?" My boyfriend's voice has the unfamiliar tone of a man who isn't sure if he should start speaking very slowly, who suddenly wonders if he's speaking with a child, or if he's just had a long, long day. Then, more slowly than is his typical pace, "And I told you he rescheduled for the next night. Remember?" He mentions the new venue, by way of reminder. Then some other arrangements for friend's visit. Ohhhh. It starts to come into focus a bit better. "So that's THIS month!" He clears his throat. Again, careful, patient pause. "Mmm hmm!"
The thing that saves my butt in this, and the intermittent conversations that unfold in this manner, (I nervously notice have increased ever so slightly in recent times,) is our shared knowledge of the extreme number of details, events, tasks, and projects we DO keep up with so well, and about which we are unwaveringly on the same page.
Sounds like a good time for a face-to-face with our calendars in hand, though. Who knows what else I'm planning for June that I'll need to find the right shoes for next week!