Me Too Movement be damned: I forced myself upon a woman last night.

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Yesterday evening, I found myself playing bluegrass music with a bunch of old friends at Armando's, a night club in Martinez CA. One of the players, Lynn Q., has a really nice Collings guitar that has been brutalized over the years, sometimes by people she has let play it when they left their "gigging guitars" at home. We shared bitter stories. Earlier in the evening, I had offered to help her do away with some scratches, "if I had my stuff in my truck." It turned out that I DID have my Meguiar's #7 Car Polish in my truck, along with some suitable rags. But the night wore on, we all imbibed, we played on stage together, and I still had done nothing for her guitar. As things were winding down, I offered to show her how the stuff worked. She said she wanted to get home, but I INSISTED that she let me try my incredible technique on a particularly scratched and faded part of her instrument. She relented, and I shined up that part of her guitar. I also showed her the technique, so she could do the rest of the guitar later, at home. As it happens, she has some of the stuff at her house, and will try it on the blemished and scratched areas I didn't have time to get to. I'll use a picture of my guitar, a Martin D-18, which looks almost identical to her Collings D-1 (which is based on earlier Martin D-18s). I am not usually that assertive (or aggressive). But I had already brought "the goods" in and didn't want to let her leave without me showing her how she could pretty up her early '90s Collings guitar. Am I becoming...one of those men? Oh, I just found a video of her playing that guitar at a gig in San Francisco! She, the bassist, and the fiddle player were with me on stage last night!