nine months pass...
She smelled like I would imagine a mermaid would smell – I've never smelled it since, and I'll never forget it. It was January 1975, and I was playing a solo show at the Troubadour in Los Angeles. After the show, my buddy Chank ran up to me, going, "Guess who's here?"
"Who?" I asked.
"I want you to just ease over that railing and look to your right."
There she was, man: Cher. I couldn't believe how beautiful she was. I got my guitar and headed down toward her. Cher showed up with David Geffen as her date. I had met Geffen on many occasions before, but I didn't acknowledge him at all – or anyone else, for that matter. I was so rude; I didn't say hello or nothing at all, because I was so blinded by her.
I was walking by, and she was down on the floor looking for something. She looked up and said, "Oh, I lost my earring." Then she said, "Here's my number – call me."
The next day, I asked her out to dinner. I went to her house in a limousine, and when she came out, she said, "Fuck that funeral car," and handed me the keys to her blue Ferrari. We went to a Moroccan restaurant on Sunset, and we sat there, eating with our hands with the sitars playing. She didn't have shit to say to me, and I didn't have shit to say to her. What's the topic of conversation? It certainly ain't singing.
I said to her, "I've got a friend who lives up in the Hills, and his wife is Judy Carne." Cher knew Judy, who used to be on Laugh-In, from years before, but she didn't realize that Judy was into heroin. We got up to Judy's house, and I had just a little taste of doojee. I nodded out in the bathroom for 20 minutes or so, while Cher was out in the living room with Judy, who's also nodding out. I came out of there and asked her, "OK, toots, what else would you like to do?"
"I want to get the fuck out of here as fast as I can," she said.
I called her the next day and said, "Wait, before you say anything – that was possibly the worst fucking date in the history of mankind. We might be ready for the Guinness Book of World Records." She agreed with me, so I said, "Well, listen, seeing how it was so bad, why don't we try it again, because it can only go better this time?"
We went dancing. I don't know how to dance, but I got drunk enough to where I did. I danced my ass off. This is when disco was just taking off, so we did some dirty dancing. She had one drink, while I had my 21, of course. When we got back to her place, she took me out to her rose garden, and all the roses were just starting to bloom.
― buzza, Saturday, 6 April 2013 21:20 (twelve years ago)