The Dumb Drummer


There are reasons that ex’s are ex’s and those relationships are better left in the past. I’m not the kind of girl that takes ex’s back (anymore…). I’m also not the kind of girl who says yes to a date for a free meal, or free drinks…but there was that one time I said yes because I wanted to attend a free movie premiere. I am a Coen Brothers fan. I love most, if not all, of their films. When I heard about “Inside Llewyn Davis” (and the fact that it had a Justin Timberlake cameo), I knew I had to go. That’s when I hung out with The Dumb Drummer happened.

A drummer from my not-so-distant past called me up and asked me to attend the premiere with him. How could I say no? Despite the fact that we had already had multiple dating disasters in the past, we had seen each other recently and rekindled our romantic interest…so I said yes.

He picked me up (in his disgustingly filthy car) and we were off to get a couple of drinks before the movie. We sat down and chatted about the music business and he, once again, reminded me that although he was pretty…he is very dumb. I was ready to finish my vodka sprite and enjoy a few hours of him not talking.

I purchased a Yuengling for the movie, to help ease the pain of my disaster date, and tried to ignore the multiple (loud) comments he made as the Coen Brothers movie played out.

The movie ended and I escaped the date rather unscathed. We said our goodbyes and he didn’t even lean in for a kiss as I avoided plastic water bottles and empty McDonald’s bags and exited his beat-up car.

Apparently, I didn’t learn my lesson from our already awkward encounter.  He called me a couple of days later and asked me to come and see his band play. Being a music lover and supporter, I agreed and drug my best friend along for the ride.

We sat and watched the interesting set. I was unimpressed with both the lead singer’s vocals and my date’s drum skills, but I tried to stay positive.

“Do you guys want to meet us for a drink after?”

My best friend and I agreed. It was two-for-one, after all. We arrived at the bar and he was nowhere in sight (which was odd considering he had left before us). We got our drinks before finally finding my Dumb Drummer. We went to join him and his crew. We stood by his table waiting for a pause in conversation so that we could sit down — or speak — or something.


Not once did he turn and look at me. Not once did he stop speaking. Not once did he scoot over and ask the two ladies if they would like a seat.

This went on for several minutes. Finally, the best friend and I awkwardly walked away and sat alone at the bar bitching about boys and wondering why he was treating me this way after I’d paid money to see his awful band play.

We finished our vodkas and hurried out the back door, thankful to be out of his presence. I got in the car, deleted Dumb Drummer’s number and vowed to never speak to him again.


I saw him last weekend at a bar. He was with a friend that unbeknownst to me, was a mutual friend. When my friend introduced us, I politely stuck out my hand and said “nice to meet you” with a sinister smile. No more Dumb Drummers for Dame Dessa.


Dame Dessa

(Photo Credit: Well Oiled Machines Flickr)


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