02: Three Identical Doors

I was at a family gathering on the weekend - Monday, it being the long weekend. Cam's birthday, which for a long while I was concerned I'd miss because it might've coincided with Amanda's wedding, but things worked out that it was the next weekend.

Unusual for family gatherings, I cracked open a beer. It was a hot summer afternoon, I felt good about it. It was Cracked Canoe, a light beer. Inside the caps were little sayings. Mine was "You never forget your first slow dance." My aunt, to whom I'd been talking about writing and other stuff, said she didn't remember hers.

I remember mine vividly. And now, unfortunately, you're going to have to read about it. Or else, skip ahead a while.

It was the end of grade 5, the beginning of the long journey that brought me eventually to SWP. It was that magical summer of your life when a switch goes off in your head and suddenly you go "Wait a second, of course! Girls! It all makes sense now! Look at that!" It also began the pattern of me being totally clueless how to actually handle women. It was my best friend's birthday party, a pool + "boy girl dance" party where the soundtrack was comprised primarily of Aquarium by Aqua. To this day I still feel like an 11-year-old when I hear "Dr. Jones." Which is, of course... not often.

But yeah. It was like a Kim Mitchell song. Patio lanterns and everything. The scent of the pool wafting in the air, the overwrought Scandinavian technopop ballads. My hands on the hips of a girl who was far, far taller than I was. Asking advice from everyone I encountered. Over the previous two weeks, it became increasingly obvious that, for whatever reason, this girl was flirting with me, and, not yet having my extroverted tendencies destroyed yet (not for another couple weeks anyway,) I was able to successfully fight through 11-year-old awkwardness and keep her interested.

I don't want to get into the specifics of what was said or who reacted badly to what, but the general consensus afterward was that I said something really, really wrong. It only occurred to me, believe it or not, right now, how the words I said might have been misinterpreted, but either way the words were badly chosen, even with their original intention intact.

It's sort of a High Fidelity moment, thinking about it. We're 11 years past that moment, literally half a lifetime away. I don't think about it often. Other, more pleasant memories have taken its place. But I think it defined enough of my life that it's worth thinking on.

Maybe I'll never truly understand the extent to which that night defined the course of my life. I don't regret it. It's made me the person I am now, and I like that guy, even if he doesn't really get laid. Or maybe I was always going to be this guy. I can't really see myself turning out like the friends I had back then did. They were mostly bound to be jocks, and I was their nerdy friend (even though I wasn't really much of a nerd, what the hell.)

Anyway. This was probably not the most opportune time to drive down memory lane. I've been on one of my famous procrastination jags. I've got my final Poli Sci test tomorrow and I ought to be studying. Last night I stayed up until 2 listening to/watching Garfunkel and Oates videos and playing Freecell. Clearly I am making the most of my youth.

I feel like, for better or worse (and it will be worse,) at least once I walk out of that test, I'll feel relieved not to have to go to school for a while.

I haven't spoken about this on the blog, I don't think. Not surprisingly, either, because there's not much to it. A week ago, I ran into an acquaintance on campus and after catching up a while and about to go our separate ways, she asked whether I was looking to move in the fall. I told her I hadn't given it much thought, but was open to the idea, and she explains she's looking to move downtown (from Etobicoke) and didn't want to live with a stranger.

So I gave her some of my contact information, and I thought I already had hers, but I sent her a couple e-mails and she has yet to respond. The people I've told in my family tend to keep asking if anything's come up for that. At one point it felt super-likely, but with every day I don't hear from her I'm not liking the odds. It feels like I'd be a huge time crunch, but hey, the idea of moving out has been weighing on my mind for months. If I get an opportunity, better believe I'm taking it.

Well, we'll see. Take it as it comes, I suppose.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott