The girl is maybe 22 or 23, very sweet, very well spoken. Ed’s signing her CD and asking what she does, what brings her to Austin, etc. I’ve seen this many times. Ed is one of the few performers I’ve ever encountered who is genuinely interested in what his fans think, in what makes them tick, and would rather talk about them than about himself.

I’m sitting with my back to Ed and the girl, counting the merch money and casually listening to the conversation when the girl grabs Ed’s left hand, points at his wedding ring and exclaims, “You’re married!?!” loud enough that Ed jumps and I flinch. Ed’s taken aback at the vehemence of the reaction and answers quietly, “Yes, I am married, very happily,” attempting to derail the oncoming embarrassing situation. (Let me stress at this point that there is a zero sleaze factor involved. This girl is not the groupie type. I’ve played music since 1968, been a roadie since 1990, I know groupies. This girl played the cello. No one who plays the cello is a groupie, and vice versa. Think more Hilary Hahn than Courtney Love.)

Ed’s deflection tactic doesn’t work, however, as the girl remains holding Ed’s hand and says, “Does that mean I have no chance tonight?” I say, “Hello,” out loud and turn around to catch Ed’s reaction and, I swear to God, Ed is gone. Like a shot. Like a bolt of lightning. Like Limp Bizkit are playing.

The CD he was signing is still hanging in mid-air, like a Roadrunner cartoon when the coyote runs off a cliff. I grab it and hand it back to the girl. “Is he coming back?” she says, brown eyes wide and blinking. “Uh, I don’t think so.” I reply. “I didn’t mean anything,” she says, “I just wanted to spend the night.” “I know what you wanted,” I say, “and you’re very sweet. It’s just not gonna happen with Ed, he’s very devoted to his wife.”

“Tell him I’m sorry,” she says, sitting sadly as I gather up CD’s and walk away. I go back to the dressing room and Ed is pacing back and forth. “What was that about?” he spits. “I always make it clear that I’m married. I talk about Linda all the time from the stage. I’m always wearing my wedding ring, you can see it on my fretting hand.” “She was just trying to be friendly.” I say, trying to dissipate the tension. Ed returns to pacing and muttering.

98.9% of all musicians I have ever known (100% of drummers) would be enormously charmed and flattered by this attention. A smaller percentage – though truthfully, I’m not sure how much smaller – would have taken her up on it. Ed is just freaked. I’m hopelessly amused at how this grown man is so badly thrown by a young girl. I’m immensely charmed at how flummoxed Ed is at this simple advance.

A rocker with a sense of devotion and responsibility. What a concept.