Throughout the entire rehearsal period and into the first couple of performances I remained clueless as to whether Veronica gave a hoot about me. I felt she was definitely way beyond my reach/out of my league, which ironically made me act more relaxed around her. Being relaxed was a boon to my chances of Veronica ever finding me interesting and attractive. Had I thought for a second I might have a chance with her, I'd have blown it, like I'd done with so many girls, so many times before.
I threw a party at my house post second performance; partly because there was a gal I'd been hankering for for years that I wanted to invite. I thought if I invited her to the party she'd come to the play too. Over the past couple of years she and I had gone out a handful of times, and though nothing had started romantically, I felt strongly there was a very good chance somewhere along the line something might, especially if she came to the play and saw what good job I (thought I) was doing (Lenny in "Of Mice and Men").
I had washed and proudly parked my bait, ah, my motorcycle, close to the stairs that led to my deck so when folks arrived at the party they'd have to pass it on their way to the front door. Clever, eh? I didn't know if the girl I liked liked motorcycles, but by god, I'd been working this chick for a couple years, and if she showed up I wasn't about to let her get away without presenting her with an opportunity to be struck by love over my 1340-cc of proof-positive-piston-powered virility.
She did show up, and three quarters of the way through the party she and a gaggle of gals had gathered on the deck and were looking at, chatting about, and giggling over my motorcycle. I spied em through the sliding glass door and made a beeline.