A Different Sherrie

Last night, in an exceptionally odd instance of life imitating art imitating life, I was introduced to a girl who appeared to be of Persian decent.

"David, this is Sherrie."

"Hi Sherrie, it's nice..."

"Oh, I know you, " she said. "You went to David Lipscomb, right?" She said, referring to my sinister alma mater.

"Oh yeah! Sherrie -----..." I remembered a warm Summer evening, a year or two after high school. I had run into her at a friend's house. After several-to-many beers, we ended up in a bedroom together. It was one of those moments in which you assume you are inspiring the tender loss of innocence but, years later, realize that you were merely developing into another set of bad habits.

Smiling, I leaned in to embrace her.

"Oh! No, I'm Sherrie ------."

Which led to an altogether awkward scene that can more eaily be imagined than described. The even stranger thing about all of it was that my good friend Daniel Tashian had once had the exact same experience with the same two women (incriminating circumstance need only be supposed, not assumed). He actually wrote a song about it, a fine version of which was eventually recorded by his band, The Silver Seas. I was fully prepared to provide you with a link for streaming but cannot locate it anywhere.