Even though I got home at 5 a.m., and sleep and I have yet to meet, I still feel good about being a little bad on Saturday night. I arrived at a friends house to celebrate a milestone with one of my best friends and her boyfriend. His friends filled their small living room, most of whose acquaintance I'd already met.
Including, "business boy", a curious character who I met at my friend's birthday last year. At the time it seemed like we didn't get on at all. If I ever felt colourless in my whole life, it was upon meeting "business boy." I actually felt gray, dull. It was as if I couldn't say anything interesting, not one thing. This unnerved me, as did seeing he was a part of the evening's festivities.
I tried to make the best of things when I found myself seated next to him in the cab to our first location, the Hideout. So, when he reproached me with a warm cattiness, I was puzzled. I continued to be puzzled as his niceties followed me around the bar and his arm slipped around my waist to steer me away from the ghosts and goblins out celebrating an early Hallowe'en.
"What's between you and 'business boy'?" a friend asks me as we stock up on another vodka pineapple. My best friend gives me a knowing glance. "Oh, it's nothing," I say. My best friend's buying the round of drinks, but she's not buying the story, everyone was watching business boy's flirty engagement of my attention intently. Before we left he was trying to entreat me to sit on his lap.
We return and nothing has changed, including his knack for making me laugh and for coercing a rolled eye or two at his silly comments. We make to leave for our second stop, Easy on the 5th, but to our trepidation the line is not moving and it's freezing out. Luckily for me business boy has me nestled in his much loved jacket and is actively seeking to keep me warm, in his very cheeky, nearly inappropriate ways.
When we finally make our way inside, we head to the bar where he buys me a drink and convinces me to take a tour of our new destination. We make our way across the crowded bar, filled with 70% costumed patrons, and others like us, dressed for any other night. Before I've realized that we've lost our party, I find myself looking into business boy's eyes. It isn't long until I feel his lips on the nape of my neck. I abandon myself to the moment and to the magnetism drawing me toward this guy whose been making me laugh all night at his attempts to capture my attention. We kiss and I'm captivated.
But whether this night will prove to be a trick or a treat, I guess I'll have to wait until Hallowe'en to find out.
Monday
Saturday
Melodramatic spree
After drowning a cup of coffee, I'm finally ready to post this. It was a late, unadulterated, night of fun, fun, fun, except for a small interlude in the middle.
Deep in the lows of someone whose beloved iPod may have bit the big one, I was persuaded into some party clothes and out to the bars by my brother and his girlfriend. Drinks were drank by most, including me, although looking into my wallet this morning it seems I've spent no money. I suppose it helps when one can monopolize on her brother's good name and can manage the gracious acceptance of a few pints in his honour.
So, about an hour after arriving, I find myself on the patio with my brother, in the distance, I spot someone I think I recognize, my knight in shining disguise's best friend, as I debate whether I should go and say hi or not, he appears, in all his band tee shirt, scruffy bearded knight in shining disguised glory. Before I know it, I've thrust my beer into my brother's hands and I walk towards him without pause.
These are just the kind of moments when pause would have been remarkably useful. And yet, I walked with determination that I scarcely knew I possessed. Looking back, I wish I had taken a moment to think this through, even just a little. Just to ask myself, "why am I going over there?" "Is it to say hello?" "To tell him off?" "What do you intend on saying?" "What tone should I take?" "What kind of message am I sending?" "Do I even want to see him?"
I realized the answer to the last of these questions was no. Unfortunately, with the lack of pause, the question hit me over the head when I was face-to-face with him and with no reasonable method of escape. He looked "surprised." Although I am even less convinced that he was, since my brother's girlfriend told me she saw him. I find it hard to imagine in a bar filled overwhelmingly with my brother's male friends, he hadn't seen us. As he pulled me in for a hug, I wondered when I would finally be able to shake the melodramatic cloud that turns my life into a misshapen Shakespeare play.
But in the midst of my melodramatic spree I didn't crumble. I felt myself dividing into two. Inside I was seething, wishing he would dissipate, to forget he existed. Particularly when confronted with an apology for "not being around these days"; he cloaked it in some excuse or other but feeling quite secure, still enveloped in the sweetness of last Saturday's date with my London Boy, it is barely acknowledged when I dismiss it with "I've been very busy myself."
Still, despite the raging internal conflict going on, outwardly I think I was too friendly, eager even. I found myself saying something and then wishing I could retract it. I felt my guard rising. I needed to rise above this moment. After all, giving him up was one of the best things I've ever done. And yet even though I realized this at the time, I found that I could help but offer him too much of myself.
Really, there is no point in scolding myself, it was an impossible situation to walk away from and that sad fact I had only realized once I was in it. I found myself perfectly unable to escape the juxtaposition of our live:, I, happy, better than ever without him; Him, sad as always, drowning in his own self-pity. Thankfully, after hearing yet another sad tale of woe of his self-imposed unhappy yet never tragic life, I was rescued by brother, whose overwhelming presence has scared away more than a few disingenuous suitors.
I tried to be unaffected, to shove this moment in the back of my head, far enough so that even my wandering dreams couldn't access it, the potential to open old wounds was far to great. Even now I feel detached from it. So a fearless soldier of good times, I did what anyone would do, I walked up to the bar and let one of my brother's friends buy me a double vodka martini with a twist.
Deep in the lows of someone whose beloved iPod may have bit the big one, I was persuaded into some party clothes and out to the bars by my brother and his girlfriend. Drinks were drank by most, including me, although looking into my wallet this morning it seems I've spent no money. I suppose it helps when one can monopolize on her brother's good name and can manage the gracious acceptance of a few pints in his honour.
So, about an hour after arriving, I find myself on the patio with my brother, in the distance, I spot someone I think I recognize, my knight in shining disguise's best friend, as I debate whether I should go and say hi or not, he appears, in all his band tee shirt, scruffy bearded knight in shining disguised glory. Before I know it, I've thrust my beer into my brother's hands and I walk towards him without pause.
These are just the kind of moments when pause would have been remarkably useful. And yet, I walked with determination that I scarcely knew I possessed. Looking back, I wish I had taken a moment to think this through, even just a little. Just to ask myself, "why am I going over there?" "Is it to say hello?" "To tell him off?" "What do you intend on saying?" "What tone should I take?" "What kind of message am I sending?" "Do I even want to see him?"
I realized the answer to the last of these questions was no. Unfortunately, with the lack of pause, the question hit me over the head when I was face-to-face with him and with no reasonable method of escape. He looked "surprised." Although I am even less convinced that he was, since my brother's girlfriend told me she saw him. I find it hard to imagine in a bar filled overwhelmingly with my brother's male friends, he hadn't seen us. As he pulled me in for a hug, I wondered when I would finally be able to shake the melodramatic cloud that turns my life into a misshapen Shakespeare play.
But in the midst of my melodramatic spree I didn't crumble. I felt myself dividing into two. Inside I was seething, wishing he would dissipate, to forget he existed. Particularly when confronted with an apology for "not being around these days"; he cloaked it in some excuse or other but feeling quite secure, still enveloped in the sweetness of last Saturday's date with my London Boy, it is barely acknowledged when I dismiss it with "I've been very busy myself."
Still, despite the raging internal conflict going on, outwardly I think I was too friendly, eager even. I found myself saying something and then wishing I could retract it. I felt my guard rising. I needed to rise above this moment. After all, giving him up was one of the best things I've ever done. And yet even though I realized this at the time, I found that I could help but offer him too much of myself.
Really, there is no point in scolding myself, it was an impossible situation to walk away from and that sad fact I had only realized once I was in it. I found myself perfectly unable to escape the juxtaposition of our live:, I, happy, better than ever without him; Him, sad as always, drowning in his own self-pity. Thankfully, after hearing yet another sad tale of woe of his self-imposed unhappy yet never tragic life, I was rescued by brother, whose overwhelming presence has scared away more than a few disingenuous suitors.
I tried to be unaffected, to shove this moment in the back of my head, far enough so that even my wandering dreams couldn't access it, the potential to open old wounds was far to great. Even now I feel detached from it. So a fearless soldier of good times, I did what anyone would do, I walked up to the bar and let one of my brother's friends buy me a double vodka martini with a twist.
Tuesday
After a year between
After several false starts, I finally find myself face to face with my London boy.
As he turns and catches my eye for the first time in year, brimming over with a smile he opens his arms, and I fall into them.
It seems like it isn't happening, it seems too good to be true; to finally be around him after this long year apart. Yet, here we are, reaching for an embrace amongst the bustling Union Station crowd. He reaches out for another hug and for a moment, the world disappears, the crowd fades away, and the only thing that exists our perfectly blissful reunion.
Moments later I am presented with a multiple choice date: (a) watch the Jays Game, (b) go to the Clothing Show or (c) see the Chinese Lantern Festival. For those who know me, my choice would seem fairly obvious, but in all honesty, I was just happy to be arm in arm with my London boy, in the city I love.
After missing so much, after all the space, the change, the months, we seemed to easily fall back on our cheery, chatty ways. In the same way that he reached out his hand to me, as we ran across changing traffic lights, I felt like we were finally closing the gulf between us. We talked of many things on our long walk, about jobs, what was happening in the world, politics, our families, how things seem to change, our ideas of the future, preferential voting, the blue, blue sky, and never once thinking of the many kilometers we tread along the way back to each other's lives.
Between glass blowing, games, ice cream, lanterns and mazes, I found myself grabbing his hand, as he reached out to me as we crossed the rocks at the shore. Sitting upon one, looking out at the sailboats, the Toronto Island and the horizon, it was as if there was never an ocean between us. It was really as if I never missed him at all, because as he looked into my eyes, I realized he was finally, right there.
As he turns and catches my eye for the first time in year, brimming over with a smile he opens his arms, and I fall into them.
It seems like it isn't happening, it seems too good to be true; to finally be around him after this long year apart. Yet, here we are, reaching for an embrace amongst the bustling Union Station crowd. He reaches out for another hug and for a moment, the world disappears, the crowd fades away, and the only thing that exists our perfectly blissful reunion.
Moments later I am presented with a multiple choice date: (a) watch the Jays Game, (b) go to the Clothing Show or (c) see the Chinese Lantern Festival. For those who know me, my choice would seem fairly obvious, but in all honesty, I was just happy to be arm in arm with my London boy, in the city I love.
After missing so much, after all the space, the change, the months, we seemed to easily fall back on our cheery, chatty ways. In the same way that he reached out his hand to me, as we ran across changing traffic lights, I felt like we were finally closing the gulf between us. We talked of many things on our long walk, about jobs, what was happening in the world, politics, our families, how things seem to change, our ideas of the future, preferential voting, the blue, blue sky, and never once thinking of the many kilometers we tread along the way back to each other's lives.
Between glass blowing, games, ice cream, lanterns and mazes, I found myself grabbing his hand, as he reached out to me as we crossed the rocks at the shore. Sitting upon one, looking out at the sailboats, the Toronto Island and the horizon, it was as if there was never an ocean between us. It was really as if I never missed him at all, because as he looked into my eyes, I realized he was finally, right there.
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