My gracious host, and my precarious situation (part one)

In the '80s, there were David Addison and Maddie Hayes. In the '90s (and again in their second feature film opening this Friday), there were Fox Mulder and Dana Scully (I received no compensation for plugging the movie).

The will-they-or-won't-they complex existed once more this week: in a hotel room I shared with an attractive woman my age and whom I barely knew.

Karyn and I met at my favorite Capitol Hill bar on April 3. We have chatted on the phone a few times, and e-mailed and texted a few more times. She invited me out to meet up at some social events, but my own scheduling conflicts dictated that I could not attend. Out of a stroke of luck, I caught up with her when she was about to travel to somewhere she'd never been before and was looking for something fun to do. It was Chattanooga, and I had just been there and knew of a downtown diner that makes exquisite cakes. I suggested it, and she thanked me a few days later and said it was delicious.

But by the time I saw her in person again, she had forgotten most of what I had told her about myelf. So, essentially, I was a stranger -- although we did keep in touch infrequently, talking about our travels (hers for business) and how closely our schedules overlapped. She was spending a lot of time working in Manassas but not any of the nights I was playing a gig there. She was spending some time in Nashville, but not when I was planning on being there. And then that's all we talked about, just the fact that we hadn't seen each other in a growing amount of time.

Last week when I called Karyn again, she immediately told me she was at an airport about to fly from home in D.C. to Nashville. Cool, I said, informing her that I was planning on taking a trip there shortly myself and possibly moving there. After I mentioned I was trying to line up some places to stay while in town, mainly couches to crash on, Karyn made an offhanded remark that she didn't even mean: "I could switch my room reservation to two king-size beds, and you could crash in my hotel room."

She didn't exactly expect me to take her up on the offer, but when it seemed increasingly unlikely I could count on a friend's couch for any of my four nights in town, I turned to her in desperation: "Which hotel did you say you will be staying at? OK, then I'll see you Monday and stay there Monday and Tuesday. Thanks!"

She suggested that it would be nice to see me once more in D.C. before I shared such close quarters with her overnight. It sounded like a good idea to me as well. So we got together Friday night before my bus departure for Nashville (by way of God's country). She had picked a popular outdoor summer jazz series in the District, and it was convenient to the Greyhound station, so I went there and found her.

Karyn looked good. Damn good. She was dressed to impress, and that wasn't all she did that impressed. She had nabbed chairs for us and supplied wine. Me? I looked shabby, with four or five days' of not shaving, in need of a haircut too, plus dripping with sweat from the heat, wearing the T-shirt-and-jeans combo that I find relaxing but makes me stick out like a sore thumb in downtown D.C. Other than my overstuffed tote bag with four days' worth of clothes and toiletries, I had come pretty much empty-handed.

Luckily, I had a little bit of personality to salvage my otherwise unimpressive presentation. That, and a little dab of body spray that even I liked when I put it on, although I'm not sure how well it held up against my sweat from carrying my burdensome tote in Washington's sweltering mid-July sun.

We made our greetings and some small talk, listened to the modern jazz band performing, sipped on her wine, and got to know each other a little better as we people-watched and eavesdropped on the typical drunken political conversations nearby. Karyn said she'd gotten me onto an invitation list for her upcoming birthday party. We firmed up plans for meeting up in Nashville a few days later, said good-bye, and that was that. Great! I'm sure if she had any reservations about letting me share her hotel room for a couple of nights, she would have said something. So I passed the audition and was guaranteed a place to stay for the second half of my trip -- as long as I could refrain from sabotaging it through any idiotic actions while I was there!

Damn, there's always a catch. I have to behave.

So, she landed in Nashville and called me right away. Only problem: I was at the wrong hotel. Same name, wrong location. I had gotten it mixed up in my mind and wound up eight miles away from her. Not knowing just how out of the way I was, she offered to drive her rental car and pick me up
. She thought I was at the one a few blocks from her hotel -- no dice. I told her I would hop in a cab and get to the right place and see her there. She said she had a hankering for some sushi near the hotel, and I said I would join her. That's what we did: Karyn and I -- oh, and Pam, her workmate who had also just flown in for the week. Just the three of us: How romantic!

Remember, don't be creepy. I'm not here to date Karyn. I need this hotel room and don't want to blow it!

We came back to the room, and she got changed and ready for bed. So I did the same. She turned on the TV, and once we had made fun of Headline News for long enough, she settled on a reality dating show for single moms and their male suitors. I was only partly interested, as I was preoccupied with whatever was happening on my BlackBerry. Just as I was getting interested in the fate of these single moms as they had their first on-screen encounter with the guys, Karyn said she had seen the rest of that episode from that point on. She changed the channel and handed me the remote, saying she wouldn't make me suffer through it.

Well, I thought I might come off as girly if I switched it back to the chicks' dating show, or uncaring since she obviously wasn't interested in viewing the rest of it again, so I turned it to "The Colbert Report" for the few minutes before the next commercial break. By then, her head was stuffed facedown in her pillows, and although she told me I could continue to watch TV without disturbing her, but she had to get out of bed and start work very early the next morning, so I thought I would just turn in myself -- all the way over here on my separate bed. I turned the TV off altogether, and the lights too, and set my BlackBerry to vibrate. I avoided conversation with her because even a quick good-night might have disturbed her if she was already asleep. So that was that. Another encounter of not offending her, just playing everything safe, and not rocking the boat, so as not to get kicked out of my free room!

That first night, making a move on Karyn would have been the least appropriate thing in the world. I mean, I guess I made her laugh a few times while we were out for sushi, but I was also having the same effect on Pam, a 40-year-old wife and mother. Karyn and I hadn't connected uniquely, and so there was no way I was going to attempt anything.

But while she was sleeping only a few feet away, I could hear her breathing. I could hear her laugh a few times. Karyn laughs in her sleep? That was new to me. Never known anybody to do that before. That's not a bad trait! She did it three times of which I was aware: twice late at night, before I myself fell asleep, and once in the morning, before the sun rose and before she was up. If nothing else, I merely took notice.

To be continued...