That probably should have been enough, but I saw Jim Cuddy solo in New York three weeks later. I even brought my sister. Somewhere, I wrote down the set list, but all I remember is after the show, when I was waiting to talk to him and he was holding some guitar strings. I asked if any of them were G-strings, and he asked me if I needed a G-string. My mind didn’t go “My celebrity crush is hitting on me and/or has a sick sense of humor,” it went “50-year-old married man is hitting on me eww eww eww.”
I topped that in New York in June, in an early Canada Day concert, when I admitted I was letting him look down my shirt and offered him a string from my violin. I don’t remember if my face turned bright red, but my shoulder did from the sun that day.
By then I should have realized that every time I talked to him, I was going to say something stupid, and I had no chance of stopping that.
When Blue Rodeo came back to Boston in November 2005, I saw them and ended up talking to him before the show, after the show in the Paradise, and after the show outside the tour bus. My father and I saw them in Northampton the next night, and I introduced my father to Jim, who didn’t tell that I’d skipped orchestra to see Blue Rodeo the night before.
After that, I decided I needed a break from those really strange conversations, though I didn’t realize how long that break would last.