Double holy shit

I know this is a second post in one day, but I figured I'd spread the awesome news.

The votes for the 2007 UFO Awards are in. As you might recall (or seen on this blog), two of my stories had been up for contest: Only in Hyrule and Summit, which had already been a massive honour. The nominations, seconds, and votes were all out of my hands. My only role was to accept the nominations if I wanted to participate.

That said, I just received an email from Dejana Talis at the UFOs about the first round of voting results:

First place: Only in Hyrule
Second place: Lyx's Chance
Third place: Summit

While I figured that having two stories up would probably earn me a spot in the end, I never expected to rank both of them in the top three. So I'm really excited, flattered and happy! As per Lyx's ranking in there, W00T! I will so harass you on MSN, lady.

... No seriously, chick, WE KICK ASS! :D :D :D

And since one of my stories has made the first place, I'm eligible for the second round of voting: Best Story Overall. Which would stun me better than a Deku Nut, so I'm keeping my expectations low.

Soooo as soon as the second round of voting opens, I'll let you know and we'll see how far this takes us.

As soon as I receive the badges, I'll also upload them onto this blog, so keep an eye out. Hee!

Love,
CM

Holy shit

Time flies when you're busy.

If I recall, I have over a week of updates to tell you about. Wow.

So, um... Right!

Friday. Last Friday, that is, because hahahaha... yeah. It's not funny, I know, but whatever. I think it's kinda funny.

Actually, to make a long story short, I got a job. At Staples. I basically walked in there and gave my CV, said that I knew their copy guy (my brother), and got hired almost on the spot.

Yeah, I know. Two interviews later and my contract was signed, no trouble, nothing. I had a job that paid better than my previous one, minus a lot of the inconveniences of large items to put back in their place. Now we're just talking about pens... and pencils... and notebooks... and all kinds of lovely, beautiful things any author enjoys.

So after I got my job, I came home and contacted Slim because Kels was hosting the end of summer party at her place and I'm a loser who depends on Slim for lifts.

But he had apparently taken that part for granted because he said he would be there at nine sharp, without my needing to beg.

Kels' party was awesome, as Kels' parties always are. Slim and I were there in time to greet Rick, his girlfriend, Ban, Drew, Guy, Mitch, Isa, and so on. All the people I wanted to see were there; the only one who didn't show that night was PB, but only, Slim told me, because he had an internship thing going on with a renowned Qc celebrity. Later on in the night, even Mike (my male confidante where Slim is concerned), his girlfriend and their friends showed up. It was awesome. Really.

I spent the evening with Eva, because she didn't know anyone else quite as well. So I humoured her and listened to her rant about how she was hoping to meet her Prince Charming in university next week, and slowly losing my mind, when suddenly Slim jumped onto the couch next to me and said, "SO I DISCOVERED SOMETHING AWESOME ABOUT NINJAS."

Which most definitely spared me a lot of boredom. And I KNOW he did this deliberately, because not a minute ago, he'd been all the way across the room, talking to Rick. So the speed at which he bounded over the moment he saw my predicament was astonishing.

"Ninjas," I said, slowly, because usually Slim is crazy about pirates, and everyone knows pirates and ninjas are mortal enemies.

He says, "Yeah, I know, they stand against everything we love and cherish, and all, but listen to this. They have NINJA RAVES."

Eva, at this point, starts to say something that would totally have ruined the awesomeness of the moment. I cut her off and echo, "Ninja raves."

"Yes. They happen in a closed room, with no doors or windows."

Eva frowns, annoyed by Slim's capacity to interest me. "What are you―"

"Because they move through the ventilation shafts!" I laugh.

"Yes! And the DJ is invisible! Because he moves so fast! And the raves only last five seconds because everyone is so swift! So you never know if it actually happened or not!" Slim is laughing. He snaps his fingers. "Like, a ninja rave could have just happened as we spoke! And we wouldn't know!"

Basically, he spared me torture at Eva's hands. Eventually we moved on to more varied subjects, like his underwear. He lifted the hem of his shirt and showed me his waistband, where I discovered Mickey Mouse and Goofy.

Amused, I said, "Are they as old as the Pirates of the Caribbean ones you had the other time? The pair with the holes?"

To which Eva started to say, scandalized, "How do you know his―"

"Yep, same age. I just never wear these."

"Yeah, it didn't look familiar," I say, and by now we're deliberately poking fun at Eva's shock.

"Well, it's laundry day."

"I prefer the ones with the adjectives on them."

He smirks at me. " 'Irreverent'."

"Irreverent," I concur, and we both snicker, which causes Eva to stare at us both, outraged that we'd be so casual about each other's underwear.

"CM," she says, very seriously, "You know it's not right to know so much about his underwear."

"Why not?" I ask, innocently. "He knows about mine."

"I do?" Slim says, his eyes widening. I know he's trying to keep our Get Nekkid night between the two of us and Amy. "Oh, wait. There was that one time where we were going to prank the others―"

"Enough!" Eva exclaims, upset.

It's obvious, though, from having known her all these years, that she envies the closeness I have with Slim. Or actually, with any guy.

I can't blame her; it IS quite exceptional.

Slowly, though, we began to notice that the party wasn't rising much. People were just sitting around, drinking and talking. The area that Kels had dedicated as a dance floor wasn't even being used. Instead, the speakers were playing your regular dance music, but nobody was acknowledging it.

Slim turned to me. He said, quite out of the blue, "Let's ninja rave."

Eva was about to make a comment (probably something like, 'You're so ridiculous', which is particularly condescending if you think about it, because hello, she dreams of Prince Charming), but I cut her off by saying, "Yes, let's."

So we jumped off the couch, startling everyone within a five metre range, and vanished into the dark room that Kels had meant to be a dance floor.

The thing is, it was really dark in there. She had left the lights off, and we decided not to light them. We started dancing like maniacs in the obscurity. It was awesome.

And Liz, Kels, Michelle and others joined us.

So eventually, Slim and I were pretty much leading the party, just because we could, and mostly because we're the most spectacular duo anyone ever saw. Not in dance, though. We were kind of bad at it. Especially since Slim was trying to belly-dance and making a laughing fool of himself. It got really rowdy between us when we began to play-fight, sending each other middle-fingers with effects ruined by our laughter, and general tackles that were not unlike hugs.

Apparently, though, people don't know us enough to know when we're just fooling around, because Liz and Eva forced us apart and told us we weren't allowed within a two metres of each other anymore.

"You're just no good together," Liz joked. "You're a scary mix."

As obedient as I was willing to be, Slim, though, decided he'd have none of it, and took the next split-second to get right back at my side, ignoring Eva's disapproving frown with a completely oblivious grin.

"Liz thinks we're no good together," I told him, trying to suppress my amusement.

At this, Slim grew into a righteous rage. "What? WHERE IS SHE?"

I pointed at Liz, who was happily chatting with Michelle, and he strode over there with purpose, pulled Liz aside and screamed, in anger I'm not entirely sure was faked, "HEY. DID YOU TELL CM THAT SHE AND I DON'T BELONG TOGETHER?" At this, Liz got a little scared. When Slim screams, he's loud. Before she could say a word, Slim continued. "BECAUSE THAT IS THE DUMBEST THING I EVER HEARD. CM AND I ARE THE BEST PAIR YOU EVER, EVER SAW. IS THAT CLEAR?"

"Um, yes?" Liz said, uncertainly.

"Good," Slim said, with a squint. "I'm glad we've cleared that up."

"You two," Eva then tells me, as Slim strides back with the same amount of purpose, "are like an old couple."

Slim breaks in loudly by screaming, "AND AS FOR YOU―" And he points at me nastily, "―don't EVER let ANYONE tell you that YOU AND I aren't MEANT TO BE THE BEST FRIENDS EARTH HAS EVER CARRIED."

"Oh, shut up, Scrooge!" I shout back, amused beyond reckoning. "And get lost!"

"Fuck you!" He shouts back, giving me the middle finger, but in his aggression I spot that smile and amused spark that's always there when we play-fight.

"Fuck YOU!"

"Enough!" Eva interjects. "You!" She points at Slim, who by now is laughing as much as I am, "Say you're sorry!"

He turns to me and melodramatically says, his arms oustretched for a hug, "I'm sorry, CM, come here, my dear."

We hug, and, as soon as Eva is satisfied, resume dancing our ninja rave.

This went on and off throughout the whole party, with us leading people into dance and, alternately, stuffing our faces with cupcakes.

Eventually, Eva expressed her wish to leave, and since she lives five minutes away, I offered to walk her home (because there have been reports of people disappearing if they were alone on the street there).

"But you'll be alone to walk back," Eva says.

"No, I won't. Watch." I turn to pull on Slim's sleeve ―he was still attempting to belly-dance― and say, "You're coming with me, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," he says, absently. "But where? What's going on?"

"We're taking her home."

"Oh. Sure. Okay. Let's go, then."

We walked her home, cutting across the field under the powerlines where the grass was recently cut (to prevent people from hiding in it, Eva says, but I think it's just because high grass is hard for the electricians to wade in), with my discussing that even with the cut grass, it would be possible for someone to hide if they stayed flat on the ground, which Eva denied. Still, this gave rise to the joke that a Flat Man was stalking us.

Still, on the way back from Eva's place, I stopped Slim and said, "I'm sorry, but I have to try this."

I waded into the cut grass and lay down on it, staying as low as possible. Slim, on his part, stepped back a little to check.

"Holy shit!" He suddenly calls. "If I didn't know you're there, I'd never see you!"

"I knew it. The Flat Man can surprise us!" I say, pushing myself to my feet. We slowly walked back to Kels' place, talking about how silly things are, and how ridiculous our friends can be.

"Actually," Slim commented as we turned onto Kels' street, "speaking of our friends, it's like the more time passes and the less I respect them. I've become an adult, but they seem to remain eternal teens... The only two people I still consider to be my best friends are..."

"Dague and PB?"

"PB still has my respect, but he's going to Québec City next month for a year. I won't see him. Yes to Dague, though. And then there's you."

"Oh." I'm surprised and flattered. "Well, thanks, I guess."

"By the way, tomorrow night is the campfire at Gabriel's place, remember?" He's talking about the fourth fire of the summer, all of which were held at Gabriel's place. Because fires aren't authorized on the island of Montreal, we have to go out of town in the middle of the woods to enjoy them. "And you're going."

"Um―"

"No oppositions allowed. We're going."

"We?"

"Yes."

I smile. That's a nice way for him to mention he's lifting me. "Alright, I'll call you as soon as my work shift is done. Speaking of which, I work at eight thirty tomorrow morning, and I'd like not to leave too late from here." I check the time. It's one in the morning. "Actually, leaving soon would be best."

"Alright, just come and find me when you're ready to leave."

We left at two, and I stumbled home at two thirty. I slept until seven. Do the math: that's four and a half hours of sleep that night.

My first work day was therefore quite rough, and followed immediately by a call from Slim who said he was picking Maria up then coming straight to my place. So, instead of having time to take a nap, I had to scarf down my supper then get changed, and be ready just on time for when Slim and Maria pulled up in my driveway.

Gabriel's campfire was a smaller gathering than before. Anthony, Melanie, PB, AA and Iva were there too, but that was it. It had been a while since I'd last seen them, so I was glad, but I got tired really fast. It was like a bad sort of jetlag. We played hide-n-seek in the woods, though, which was hilarious, and sang songs until two.

But when Anthony commanded that we'd all meet at Moe's the next night, I was kind of freaked.

I stumbled home at three thirty and slept until eight. I dreamed of Slim. I dreamed he was coming to my rescue without my needing to call him, just because he felt the instinct to. It was odd, but he basically turned a nightmare about loneliness and wounded dignity into something comforting and cheerful.

I woke up feeling warm and happy, until I remembered that dreams are just that. Dreams.

That's still a very short night, followed by another full day shift at work. I was running out of steam, and fast (and you may understand that I had no time to write about it here).

Slim showed up at my place around eight. We had convened that we'd take a small amount of time to finish preparing the conference we were giving the next morning (Monday) at our now ex-college. The idea was that, as graduates in cinema, we could tell the next ones up to get organized because film productions aren't easy at all. Our word has more weight than that of teachers, so we offered to speak in their place. Maria showed up a little while later, and, as we had agreed, Mom drove us to Moe's.

Seeing as Slim, Maria and I were the first ones there, we ordered a pitcher of beer and started drinking. We had gone to the bank and teased the bouncer on the way there, and I'd been surprised to realise said bouncer was flirting with me. Seriously, what?

Anyway, I may have mentioned my resistance to alcohol is pretty much nil.

I was into my second glass when Anthony and the others showed up, most of them already drunk from having taken shots before showing up. This brought on more drinking, and by the time I'd ingested two glasses and a half, I was already tipsy. This made Anthony feel free to ask me whether I wanted to make out with him.

"So, CM, since you're drunk, I suppose you'll want to French me."

"No," I laughed. "Thank you, though."

" 'No, thank you'?" Anthony echoes, not insulted in the least. He turns to Slim, who is absently watching baseball on one of the TV screens. "She says no thank you!"

Slim looks down and asks, "What?"

"Woman won't make out with me!" Anthony exclaims. "Have you made her monogamous or something?"

"What?" Slim asks again, utterly confused.

Before Slim can gather his wits, Anthony turns back to me and leans far over the table that seperates us to ask, seriously, "Have you sexed him up, CM?"

"No."

"No? Why the hell not? Slim!" Anthony turns back to Slim and pulls him in to whisper something in his ear.

"What the hell―" Slim waits until Anthony is done whispering before moving away and looking disturbed.

Now I won't pretend. I can read lips, especially when Anthony is so drunk that he has to be very articulate. And he had just asked Slim whether the two of us had had sex lately.

I glared at Anthony, who laughed.

But I was getting drunker by the minute ―the relatively small quantity of alcohol I'd ingested was having its effect on me― and, rather than be cheerful, this time, I quickly descended into depression. It was worsened when all of them got up to go dance downstairs, leaving me alone at the table.

I followed, but after five minutes of head-pounding music, I just couldn't take it anymore. I felt alone again, and it was getting worse with every minute. So I leaned towards Melanie and told her I'd be taking a breath outside.

Truth was, I needed to get a grip on myself, because I knew I was being ridiculous. I couldn't reason at all anymore, and while I had deliberately stepped away from them, I was feeling a large sense of abandonment.

I don't know how long I sat on that sidewalk border, a ways away from Moe's front entrance, but it was long enough to overthink and get really depressed. I was fighting tears I couldn't explain and struggling to be mature.

So when I heard a set of jogging footsteps, I hurried to wipe my eyes and pretend I was just dozing off.

Dreams don't happen. I know they don't. I just know it.

So why my heart exploded when I heard Slim say, breathlessly, "Oh my god, CM, there you are, I'm so happy I found you. I've been looking for you for the past twenty minutes. I was dancing with the others and then I noticed you weren't there― Hey... hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I sob. Goddammit, how had he known to come looking for me? I hadn't wanted to worry anyone. I hadn't even made a scene― He wasn't even supposed to know I was gone!

"CM," he says, concernedly, crouching in front of me, "something's wrong." The next questions he asked where so spot on I had to fight even harder to stay composed. "You felt alone? You're tired, right? And you drank a wee bit too much. We didn't do anything wrong, did we? Did we leave you behind?"

OH MY GOD WHY??? WHY MUST HE KNOW ME SO WELL?

"I'm― I―"

"Oh my god, okay," Slim says, when he notices that my shoulders are quaking, "so you're REALLY not feeling it. That's alright, my dear, come on, I'm here for you. I'll be your saviour," he half-jokes. "Come on." He outstretches both his hands to help me to my feet. "Come, we'll talk."

I take both his hands. By now I'm sobbing and I can't see clearly. Rather than make me walk a single step, Slim breathes a soothing 'shhh' and pulls me into his arms, letting me lean my head on his shoulder. He lets me sob like it's the most natural thing ever, not even caring that I'm soaking his shirt front, murmuring comforting words into my hair like "it's alright, you're okay. I'm here. It's okay... shhh..."

Eventually, I break away from him and sob, "Oh my god― I'm so sorry I wet your shirt―"

"It's nothing."

"―and I keep ruining your evenings―"

"No, you don't."

"―I'm sorry I'm such a wreck― I don't― I don't even know why I'm crying!" I bring my hands up to my face to hide it. I'm so embarrassed. He always sees me when I break. But I can't stop crying. I'm panicking. "Slim, I don't― I just―"

But he pulls me forward and hugs me again. "It's okay. Come on, we'll get away from here. Let's find a quieter place."

He pulls me down the little street where we always end up, holding me close with an arm around my shoulders. Eventually, I manage to make full sentences.

"I'm so sorry I keep ruining your nights out," I sob. "I swear, I don't know why―"

"Don't worry about it," he assures me once more. "You need someone to be there for you, and I'm it."

I watch him, throat tight. "You don't have to do this."

"But I do," he says, with a smile. "It's my genetic defect, remember? I need to save people."

Against all odds, this makes me smile a watery smile. Slim's face lights up with a victorious grin.

"Hah! See? I'm a genius. I made you smile!"

I can't help it. I half-giggle, half-sob, and reach for another hug. He cheerfully lets me into the circle of his arms, and holds me close.

"You're too good a friend," I mumble into his shirt. He says nothing, just moves back and forth slowly, giving me the best hug I could ever hope to get. "You deserve the best girl there is, Slim. You need to be happy."

"I do want a girlfriend," he admits when we finally break apart. I sit on the ground, and fall backwards until I'm staring up at the sky. "But to be honest, I don't know who I could go for. So I'm left hanging." He sits next to me, looking down at me thoughtfully. He seems pleased that I'm not crying anymore.

"You'd really be a mind-blowing boyfriend, if what you managed tonight is any indication," I smile.

"Bah, that's nothing. I'd not only be an amazing boyfriend, I'd also be an amazing lover." He waggles his fingers. "I've got it down pat, you have no idea. Every girl I've ever made out with kept begging for more." He snickers. "I guess I know how to bring them to the edge."

"You probably understood something fundamental, like..."

"I kiss and touch them everywhere but where they want to be touched."

"So you make them desperate."

"But very turned on," he agrees. "Exactly."

I almost want to cry again. "I cannot believe this. You know, Bass never understood that. He went straight for the belt."

Slim grimaces. "He's a moron. A girl needs to be teased."

"Trust me, I know. But so do guys." I smile at the stars. "I think I'd be a good lover too."

"Probably."

"I mean, I'm creative, and good-looking―" I glance at him with a glare ready in case he makes any comment, but he just nods, "―and intelligent. I learn fast, and I'm curious to try things. I'd need a partner willing to experiment."

"So you also need a guy you can trust."

"Yeah..." We lapse into silence. Finally, I say, "You know, I never thought I'd ever become such good friends with you. Things weren't pointing at it, even at the start of last year."

"I guess we needed each other."

"I guess we're just like-minded."

"Pretty much― hey, look, PB is there. He's coming our way."

"Oh god. Do I look like a living wreck?" I wiped my face, but I've stopped crying.

"No, you look fine..."

"You don't sound sure. You know, you're supposed to say I'm beautiful."

"That's dumb. You look like you stopped crying, that's what. But don't worry, PB won't notice."

He's right. Nobody noticed. We went home ―although right before I left, the bouncer from earlier accosted me and asked me to be there the next Friday. I said I'd think about it. He said he'd be shattered if I didn't come. I said I couldn't do much about it, except I could give him a hug. He pointed at Slim and asked whether my boyfriend would mind. I said I didn't have a boyfriend, and hugged him. He kissed both my cheeks twice. I decided that was scary (he's HUGE) and left.

I slept five hours, then woke up on time to join Slim at our old college for the conference. It went well, and Slim then went to inquire about the job with Pierre. Things didn't look as good, though; apparently another guy with more credentials had shown up, and the school was obliged to hire him instead of Slim, to the technicians' disappointment. Still, Slim took it in stride and told them to keep him in mind for the future.

I worked that afternoon, the next Tuesday, and took Wednesday off because Slim and I had to attend a conference at the UQAM to receive our student ID, our agendas, and fetch our public transit cards. After a long day the tribulations of which I shall spare you the details, we came home, and I rested. I'd been sleeping semi-normal nights, now, but I was still exhausted all the time.

I worked Thursday and Friday. Because I work at Staples, the Back to School rush is exhausting. We pull ten-and-a-half-hour shifts (which, by the way, I'm pretty sure are illegal), and I never finished a work day before ten at night.

So, after a week of over forty hours, they decided to make me finish early yesterday (Friday), for which I was really grateful.

It was on coming home that I got a message from Michelle who wanted to go out. So I encouraged a few others to join us. Eventually, the only ones who showed up were Slim, Rick, Ban, Mitch and Isa. Guy had promised to come, but, as usual, hadn't give a sign of life. Fred was going downtown for the night, Drew was too lazy to get out, and all the others were at Moe's.

But I was sick of Moe's, and honestly, it was nice to just talk. Michelle was being really annoying, though, switching between innuendos about Slim and I, then suggesting I should go for Gabe. Ban dragged Slim away for a bit, for god-knows-what, but they indicated nothing on their return, except that it was suspicious how at one point every single person at the table vanished, leaving Slim and I alone.

He told me he was excited to start the new school year, that the girls he had seen at the UQAM were cute. I said I didn't have high hopes myself.

Michelle then returned, asking about Slim's ideal girl. I already knew; I told her Slim liked girls with little frames (i.e. not me). Michelle sighed dramatically, and argued it wasn't fair that every guy liked girls with little frames, that tall guys with tiny girls look realy awkward, that it wasn't fair that the rest of us would be left all alone. I ignored it, because the last I need is to sound even more melodramatic.

Even though it IS unfair.

We finished the evening early; everyone looked really tired. So I went home, slept, then came here this morning to start typing, because I feel like a wretch for not keeping you updated.

Hopefully, though, my schedule will lighten up now that school starts, so trust me, I look forward to it.

Love,
CM

Waiting for Friday Night

Gabe is interested in me. I've gathered as much over the past two weeks.

If I had known that one evening of harmless flirting (in my case, it's more like friendlier but not sexier) would make him such an easy guy to pocket...

Well, it does turn out that whenever I let myself flirt, guys flock to me. Which is why I hadn't allowed myself that fun practice since Bass in 2006. But anyhow, Gabe is interested.

I know because he picks up all the bait I laid out for Slim.

By bait, I mean funny YouTube links about pirates, because Slim and I both love pirates and I know that, as soon as Slim returns from Dague's chalet, he'll be amused and he won't resist talking about it with me.

But Gabe picked it up instead, first on Facebook:

Gabe: DO WHAT YOU WANT CAUSE A PIRATE IS FREE!!! YOU ARE A PIRATE!!!!!!!!!

To which I replied: "YOU ARE A PIRATE! LLLAAAAAND HO!!!!!! I fully intend to purchase hot pink pants and a striped shirt."

... Then on MSN.

Gabe: I want a beard that looks like it was trimmed with a laser.
Me: Huh, no, your priority should be the really intense corsair voice that shows he's been around the world.
Gabe: Yes! The voice of a man who lives by the salty sea air!
Me: And who engineered many surprise boardings.
Gabe: Why, oh WHY, aren't I a pirate?? It's what I'll be asking myself every night in tears, now.
Me: Dammit, don't you understand?? You ARE a pirate.
Gabe: Non. Not yet. :(
Me: Mais oui, if you like to sail the sea, you are a pirate.
Gabe: I HAVE NO SHIP! WHAT'S A MANLY PIRATE VOICE WITHOUT A SHIP??
Me: So? He's got a fake ship on wheels with suspicious puppets! BUT HE'S STILL A PIRATE.
Gabe: Yeah... OUI!!! I AM A PIRATE!!!!!! MWAHAHAHAHA
Me: YES.
Gabe: YAAAAAARRRRRR
Me: YAR HAR HAR Being a pirate is alright with me, YOU ARE A PIRATE
Gabe: Wow, la vie est belle. ("Life is beautiful.")
Me: All of a sudden, huh?
Gabe: Sick, I was emo not two minutes ago.
Me: Piracy does that.
Gabe: Hey, if you're not doing anything tonight... Kels wants to come watch a movie at my place. There might be a few others, too.
Me: Your place where?
Gabe: My mom's place in Vaudreuil. No one's home.
Me: Right, well, I guess it depends on Kels. If she wants to lift me, I mean.
Gabe: I'm fetching her. I'll come get you.
Me: Seriously? That's really generous!!
Gabe: lol Mais oui.
Me: So... what movie?
Gabe: We'll see later... What mood are you in, movie-wise?
Me: Bah, as long as it's not intense gore... I'm pretty open.
Gabe: Damn.
Me: I know you were just planning a Saw marathon.
Gabe: I guess we'll have to look into the Inuit musicals...
Me: Unusual, I'm sure we can find a classical tragedy in Inuktitut.
Gabe: With a twenty-minute throat-song at the start to get us in the mood.
Me: And the whole thing ends with a heart-rending scene about the village's mascot seal's death.
Gabe: Por quéééééé
Me: "Please, do not cry, Son of the North! We shall honour him as one of our ancestors. Now take a good bite of his grease. He was not named Blubber in vain."
Gabe: LOL!
Gabe: Okay, I'm off to fetch Kels; I'll call you later.
Me: Okay! Thanks again! You're really chill.
Gabe: I'm like OMG kool.
Me: More like HOMGWTFHAX.
Gabe: LOL
Gabe: Well, actually, I like driving while blasting Nickelback.
Me: Okay. Well, then, I'll see you later.
Gabe: À taaannntôôôôôôôt...!! ("Laaaaaateeeeer")

Gabe. Slim. Gabe. Slim.

Argh.

He and Kels fetched me; we chose Monty Python's Life of Brian to watch, and joined Ban and Diane (a cheerful Asian chick that everyone likes), quietly entering Gabe's mother's place.

At twenty-three, Gabe already has his own apartment downtown, but he hardly lives there, because he studies at the college near us.

It was a quiet evening, but pleasant enough; we watched the movie, then Ban droves us all home.

I can tell Kels likes Gabe a lot more than she lets on; so I guess at this point I'll just let things go in a friendly and not overly engaging tone...

Even if it is pleasant to be appreciated by a cute guy...

Love,
CM

Summer's Almost Over and I Am So Poor

Going out is expensive. Very expensive. After a while, my funds are kind of depleting. (Cue horror-filled expression.) I wish I could say that it was always worth every penny, but since cocktail drinks cost way more to buy than they do to produce, obviously I'm still getting ripped off.

Anyhow, I've come to terms with my status as a poor person.

Which didn't keep me from paying 50$ last evening for Kitty's goodbye party.

Seriously. Fifty bucks. That's four pitchers, right there. And all I got yesterday was a mixed salad, goat cheese tomato pasta, an apple pie slice and one Turquoise blue.

And thank god Josie didn't ask me to pitch in for the 600$ present. Instead, she and Kitty's boyfriend split. It's a good thing he paid for it, because it's pretty much his only use. Kitty has a tendency to go for bad boys, and this one is pretty much an asshole who treats her with about as much respect as he would to a puppy. Kitty doesn't realise she deserves much better than a guy whose only redeeming quality is his large wallet. He did NOTHING to prepare this goodbye party, except pay for Kitty's meal. Josie, Eva and I, on the other hand, busted our asses.

Because Kitty's leaving to study marine biology in Rimouski, some 600 kilometers away. While this breaks our hearts, we're relieved for her, because at least she won't have as many occasions to get used by the asshole boyfriend (who is probably planning his future squeezes for when she's away already).

Kitty isn't the only one who's leaving us. PB is, too. He's off to study publicity in Québec city, and as psyched as we are for his awesome prospects, we're sad to see him go. He was a large part of our group spirit, and some of us have known him for fourteen years (read: since preschool). To see him prepare his departure is like watching a brother leave.

We know we'll see him again, of course, but it won't be as frequently, and it just won't be the same.

Daycamps are almost over. Some of those who work as counsellors are already out. With every passing day, we can sense the increasing speed at which summer is coming to an end.

My brother is heading back to college next week. Most of my friends who haven't finished it yet too. So Rick, Mitch, Drew, Fred, Guy, Ban, AA, Anthony, Liz will also get busy. Iva has finished college, but she's heading off into the east of Montreal to study audio prosthetics, and we might not see her as much anymore.

Of my friends, we're actually a small number starting university this year. This is only because we're among the few who have aced all our classes in the past two years, and have none to finish in order to obtain our college diploma. Amy, Gabriel, Eva, Josie, Kels, Maria, Gabie, Slim and I are the only ones whom I know for sure will be spending regular time downtown Montreal at either the University of Montreal or the Université du Québec à Montréal.

That is to say that my group of friends has been narrowed down rather drastically: Eva, Josie, Kels and Gabie aren't attending the same university as I am. In fact, they'll be on the rich side of Mount Royal; Slim, Gabriel, Amy and I will be in the city-centre.

And of those four, the only one I'll be seeing on a (very) regular basis is Slim.

It always boils down to that, doesn't it?

This week Slim is at Dague's chalet somewhere up north, without electricity or a phone line. Go figure. Dague's whole family has pretty much adopted Slim, though, so I know he's having a lot of fun, even without news of him.

And if you were wondering how I'm faring since Tuesday, I can give you a little update, because a lot of you seemed really concerned.

First off, this isn't the first time I've been disappointed; those who were here since the start can probably remember Josie's cruel words back in February 2007, all of Slim's romances since then nonwithstanding. Being close to Slim is kind of a guarantee that things cannot be simple.

Secondly, I haven't seen Gabe since that time, but aside from my decision not to mess with him until I get things sorted out, it's come to my attention that Kels is interested in him. Seeing as Kels is my friend before Gabe, I don't intend to cross her in any way. I've got my own things to deal with without harming her.

And finally, I've forgiven Slim, for various reasons that I will highlight in a little bit.

Wednesday was a quiet day, spent moping a little and trying to make things alright, and reasoning with myself. I spent it talking with Lyx and Scop, and trying to ignore Mom as she tried to explain that Slim did not, in fact, mean to hurt me (she was there when Slim refused to go to the movies with me).

Yeah, I know. Mom turned traitor on me or something. But it's hard to ignore her when she adamantly declares that Slim would never want to hurt me, that he didn't mean it as an insult, that he preferred to talk with me rather than pay to see a movie he doesn't really want to see on principle (he's got odd principles, but I won't get into that).

But I wanted to mope, so I moped.

Thursday, though, I was already feeling a lot better. Ban called me mid-afternoon to ask me whether I wanted a ticket for a late showing of Tropic Thunder, to which I acquiesced happily. Ban was buying the tickets in advance, just in case, and I gathered that Rick, his girlfriend Steph, Amy, her friend Dany, Ban, Drew and Kels would be there.

I was still kind of sulking Slim, but I was softening by the day and the more time passed, the more I realised ―in part thanks to your comments to my previous post― that he had probably answered my queries to the best of his neutrality, and that he had not meant, in fact, to hurt my feelings. He just didn't want to engage them at all, because, as I came to understand, it's a risky territory.

And he'd looked so earnest when he'd left me, Tuesday, and he'd mentioned that if we went to the movies this week with the others, he'd like to come.

So when Ban fetched me in his beat-up car, nicknamed Olga, of all things, I asked, as casually as I could, "Did you call Slim for tonight?"

Which was when Ban said that he'd tried, without results.

I said, "He's out of cell minutes, though. Did you try―"

"No, I didn't try his house. Wanna do it? I'm picking Kels up too and we're heading to Drew's for a while."

"Okay." I let Ban deal with driving and dialled Slim's home phone number.

His father answered. I asked, "Um, hi, it's CM."

"I recognized the voice," Slim's father says warmly.

"Yeah," I smile. "Awesome. Um... is Slim there?"

"No, actually. He's out... I don't know where. He never really tells me much."

I'm disappointed. "Oh. Do you know when he's supposed to come home?"

"No idea. As I said, he's out until god-knows-when. I think it's because they have a closing-day at camp, so he might be there. And he might stay until late."

"Oh. Okay, well, then... um, if he ever gives a sign of life, could you tell him to call me? Or Drew or Ban or Kelsey, actually. We're going to see Tropic Thunder tonight and I think he wanted to come."

"Sure. I'll try to let him know."

"The movie's at 9:30, so anytime before that is cool, I guess."

"Alright, CM."

"Thank you, Mr. D.," I say, cheerfully. "You're great."

"No problem."

We hung up, and I gave up on Slim. He'd probably be too tired.

In fact, he didn't call that night, as far as I knew. My cell phone got no missed calls, and no one else got any news. I wasn't even sure that he was still alive. I ignored my disappointment and enjoyed everyone's company instead, for what it was worth. We filled a row in the theatre, and got a few good laughs from the movie.

Ban drove me home. I was in a somewhat depressed mood, and Ban, who was in the same mood because of his recent break-up, decided to notice, the ass.

"Just tell me," Ban said. "Every time my sisters had to unload, I was their man."

"I can't, Ban. You know the people involved."

"So? Think that changes anything?" He made a tisking noise, then said, "It's Slim, right?"

Why deny it? "Yeah."

"Did something happen?"

"Not really, when you think about it." I tell him about my frustration over Slim's attitude on Tuesday, and how I was unexpectedly hurt by his refusal to go to the movies with just me.

Ban interrupts me. "So do you feel bad about reacting so much?"

"Not really," I say. "I'm glad I reacted, actually, because otherwise that would have been just another thing to contend with internally."

"Right. But can I just ask for one thing set straight?"

"What?"

"What exactly do you want to be with him? Just friends?"

"Ban―"

"No, no, hear me out. Because if you want to be just friends with him, you need to tell him that straight up. And then he won't freak out. CM, he's a guy. We guys don't work well with subtlety. You need to tell him that straight up, he's just your friend and you don't mean anything more."

"... He knows that's―"

"CM. Did you TELL him?"

"Well, we kind of agreed multiple times, actually."

Ban pursed his lips, and turned onto our common street. "CM, can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I think the reason you can't seem to be honest with Slim is that you are extremely confused."

I'm stunned. "I'm sorry?"

Ban stops in front of my house. "Confused. You don't seem to know what you want. So of course you're giving out extremely freaky signals."

I blink. That had never even occurred to me. That I could be confused. But he's right.

As much as I professed myself to be in love with Slim, the fact remained that I wasn't as heartbroken over his reaction as I was insulted. I've never connected with a guy as I connect with him, before. Being close to him is comforting, and being his friend is fun, but does that mean that I would get something better from being his girlfriend? I can still hug him, I can hang out with him on a regular basis, and there's no worry about being loved or accepted or rejected... Slim likes me as I am already.

Ban and I discussed this. Ban merely asked me, "CM. You just have to ask yourself one question: is it worth losing a permanent friend like Slim to gain a boyfriend like Slim, as temporary an advantage as that can be?"

The surprising answer was... "No. No, it isn't."

Because it isn't. I have so much to lose, and not much to gain. As conflicted as my heart was, the rest of me just knew it wasn't worth worrying about. He cares more about me than he did about his exes, and I love him dearly...

"I mean, you're closer to Slim than anyone ever expected you to become. It's a strong bond and something that not a lot of people can claim to have," Ban says. "And I don't think that you have a lot of friendships as meaningful."

Was it possible...? Was I in love with Slim just because I didn't have anything else? No, that wasn't quite it. I thought it over. "At the risk of sounding coarse," I said absently, "the only plus of being Slim's girlfriend would be the physical satisfaction. Everything spiritual is otherwise already there."

"Understatement," Ban smiles.

"I think I just feel safer with him, is all. If he were my first..." I shrug. "I don't know, I trust him more than anyone. I'd feel more comfortable if he were my first than if anyone else tried to fill in."

"That's normal," Ban says. "But in the long run, what's the best thing?"

"I know, I know." I wasn't happy, but somehow, Ban had helped me distance myself and take a critical look at my situation. If I were to do an internal vote, my confusion would be obvious:

Body: YES please he is pretty!
Head: NO, thanks, in the long run staying friends is wiser.
Heart: Um, those are valid points... Err...

And in the end, the mind wins, because the body is a fickle thing, and the mind is usually right. As for the heart, I'm not going to force things anymore. It was upset on Tuesday, and we'll see in time where it settles itself again.

After saying goodbye to Ban, and threatening him with murder if he EVER spoke to anyone about the talk we had, I went home.

(By the way, I did keep my promise to Slim throughout the talk. I never said, at any moment in the conversation, that I felt anything more than complete confusion regarding Slim, and that doesn't really qualify as admitting love in the least.)

Mom was still up. She asked about the movie, and I told her happily that it was good, and worth watching with friends.

It was only on Friday morning that I found out that Slim HAD called the night before.

"Yeah," Mom said, "I forgot to tell you. He called around nine and asked to talk to you." She paused to recollect a little absently. "He sounded really excited, too. But I told him you were already gone. He asked if you had the cell phone, and I said that you did, but you were likely already in the theatre, so that it was probably too late. He was really disappointed."

I feel bad for him, but then, he HAD known that there was a movie night planned either on Wednesday or Thursday.

Later Friday I logged onto MSN. He wasn't there until seven in the evening, at which point the following conversation occurred:

Me: I feel like going out tonight. Do you feel like going out?
Slim: No, I'm leaving early tomorrow morning for Dague's chalet.
Me: Bah. D: So how long are you going to be away? People mourned your absence yesterday.
Slim: Until jeudi prochain ('next Thursday').
Me: !!! Seriously??
Slim: Yeah.
Me: Oh. Wow, I guess.

A pause. I've given up on him. He hates me―

Slim: ZOMG I didn't tell you the amazing news! I called yesterday but you were out!
Me: What?
Slim: Pierre called me!

Pierre, if you recall, was our main college cinema teacher. He taught us about screenplays, filming and editing. He was also the most badass teacher we could ever get. PB, Gabie, Slim and I loved him. We always squeal his name when we talk about him, like "PIIIIIIIEEEERRE!!!"

Yeah, we're dorks.

Me: !!!!!
Slim: And he offered me a job at the college as assistant technician!!!!
Me: WHAAAAT
Me: OMG OMG OMG
Me: OH MY GOD

My excitement isn't feigned. I'm seriously in shock and AMAZINGLY PSYCHED!!!

Slim: YES!!!
Me: !!!!!!!
Slim: I would replace the mean dude.
Me: YEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS
Slim: It's not sure yet, but I have a good chance.
Me: OH MY GOD!!!!!!!
Slim: I KNOW!!!!
Me: I am SO PSYCHED FOR YOU!
Slim: The guy said he wouldn't be able to do it this year like three weeks ago and they were looking for someone and René and Pierre ont tout de suite pensé à moi!!! ("René and Pierre immediately thought of me!!!")
Slim: I was so stunned!!!!!
Me: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Me: I'M SO FREAKING HAPPY FOR YOU!! 8D WOW!!!
Me: Still, it IS true you'd do a better job than the other guy did. YOU, at least, know the program and equipment from having actually worked with them.
Me: By the way, we tried calling you like, all evening yesterday. Where were you?
Slim: Camp closing. There was so much to do; I stayed until eight.
Slim: Speaking of which, Rick and Guy were supposed to be there to help, but they weren't.
Me: Ah, poop.
Slim: But who gives a fuck when I might work with PIERRE.
Me: Seriously.
Slim: It's crazy !!!
Me: I KNOW!!!!
Slim: Remember taking like a workshop with René on editing?
Slim: Well I'd be doing it now.
Me: Hahaha yeah!!!!
Me: Okay, seriously, where are the BIG FONTS when I need to shout? This is ridiculous.
Slim: ITS AMAZING I WANT THAT!!!
Me: BIG FONTS??
Slim: no, the job.
Me: Right. lol
Slim: But yeah, the BIG FONTS too!!!
Me: OKAY. WELL, I CAN GUESS WHY.
Slim: Btw, are you doing the film production thing?

He's talking about the email our cinema teacher Marie-Josée sent us last week, asking a few old students whether we'd like to come back to the college to explain to the second-year students what film production is like, in order to incite them to get organized and proactive. We'd enjoyed the same thing last year, and it's true having old students explain the strain and stress is more impressive than being told about it by teachers.

And okay, it's for those of us who like doing oral presentations about things we love, like we do.

Me: I want to... Wanna come with me?
Slim: Yeah! I can go only the 25th, though.
Me: Bah, I'm free all the time, so it's chill. Do you want me to reply for both of us?
Slim: Well, I'll tell MJ about the two of us for Monday at 9:30.
Me: Ok, if you want to do it, it's cool, too. :P
Slim: We'll meet the weekend before and we'll organize something so that it's not improvised.
Me: Sickass. Yes.
Me: DUDE. I can re-edit our making of into a clip of 1-2 minutes lol
Slim: If you can do it!!!
Me: Um, obviously. I have nothing better to do with my time anyway hahaha.
Me: Oh, btw, the 27th there are meetings at UQAM for the student IDs and all. So can you keep that day free?
Slim: Yeah, for sure.
Me: Okay now, I'm totally psyched for plenty of things. Great. I won't be able to sleep because of the happy high. Gah.
Slim: Gah!?
Me: Yes, gah is my expression of darn-now-I-can't-sleep-because-I'm-happy. But maybe you imagine that it's NOT EXPRESSIVE ENOUGH
Slim: I can sense the BRAWNDO tone.
Me: TOO ENERGETIC FOR NORMAL SPORTS!

And so it was that I forgave Slim, because, in Juno's words, he's the cheese to my macaroni.

And then, last night was Kitty's goodbye party. I already know that most of the people who were there are going to be there at Kels' party next weekend. It's the Summer End, a tradition to end the party season, and just about every single person I like is going to be there. It'll be awesome.

Anyway, I have a wonderful school year coming up, what with university and all. So, alright, I confess, things are good. Not great, but definitely good.

Love,
CM

A blow to my ego

So Slim doesn't want me. Not that way.

We were supposed to see the Dark Knight tonight. Except when he heard that it'd be just the two of us, he categorically refused to go. We'd just finished having supper with Mom and my brother.

I was so hurt, I kept my smile, opened the front door and said, "In that case, feel free to go. There is no reason for you to be here anymore."

He looked so shocked by my move, he scrambled for a lame, "No, no, since I'm here we might as well do something. Go for a walk or whatever."

I took him to my park. The park I go to when I feel in need of comfort.

I managed to weasel many things out without even telling him I loved him. I didn't have to.

His signals are about as conflicting as they get. He urges me to kill Gabe as I wonder about whether I should keep accepting Gabe's overtures, then suggests I see where my flirtation with the man goes. He maintains that his personality most fits with Iva's (I THOUGHT HE WAS OVER HER) then claims that, in spite of that, he isn't really interested in her. He says he's interested in none of his acquaintances. He says that he wouldn't want to date someone he already knows by heart. He says that we should both give up on relationships, because we are doomed.

I swear:

"Slim, what if I fall in love with you one day?"
"You're pretty much screwed."

"You and I, we never did have a flirtation period."
"Nope."

"Slim, which one of your acquaintances would you see yourself dating?"
"None of them. Iva suits me best, but there's no heat."

"You'd pretty much be the perfect boyfriend, man."
"I know. So I gotta be real selective. Basically, I'm never going to find a girl."

"You need a low-maintenance girl, someone with whom things just happen, without having to make too much effort."
"Obviously."
"Kind of the way our relationship goes."
"Have you noticed that four-leaf clover only grows in small patches?"

"You better give up, Slim, because face it: the only girl with whom you share a proper connection with is me."
"For now."

"What are you looking for, anyway? I'm really looking for a best friend, but with the added benefit of making-out."
"Kind of like us, except with sex."
"Yeah."
"Yeah, it's pretty much impossible to find, sorry to break it to you."

"What do you think of Josie?"
"She's my back-up plan. If neither of us is married at 40, we're getting married."

And the worst:

"I can't date Gabe! I don't know him well enough!"
"That's stupid! The only fun part of dating is when you're still learning to know the person! It's no fun if you already know them by heart. What are you going to talk about? I mean, talk about getting a routine!"

Along with a few lines of:

"Friendships and couples are two COMPLETELY different things. I'm not the same guy to a girl friend and a girlfriend."

So. How nice.

When he left, I was surprisingly unable to summon any feelings of loathing or annoyance or sadness.

But now, I just feel... alone.

Even though he smiled at me and said we'd see each other tomorrow with the gang, and walked out the door cheerfully and with a bounce in his step, like nothing was wrong. No kiss, no hug. Nothing.

There's a buzzing in my ears. I can't do this. How am I supposed to mourn a relationship that never was? How am I supposed to get over him? I've tried so many times before, without any success.

Oh god, I'm crying now. I feel so stupid for crying. How could I even expect things to go well? No decent guy has ever looked at me the way I want them to, why would this be any different?

Why can't friends become more? Why is that so wrong?

Mom says the only reason I haven't made a move on him yet is that I enjoy being in limbo.

But trust me, uncertainty has brought me nothing but trouble, anguish and heartache. I want him so much, I can hardly think straight. I don't just want him physically, the way he does Renee and Iva. I want him with all my mind and heart, the way I'd love a prospective husband: with the capacity to love him, with his flaws, not in spite of them.

What is so wrong with me that he doesn't want me? All this time, I was so sure that he liked me, at last, and now all I can find to fill my head is doubt and loneliness. I was so happy lately, so confident, so in love... I suppose I might have misinterpreted everything. Everything!

"You know, it's hard to read you. You give conflicting signals by being friendly to everyone."
"I know. Sucks."

"Dude, I'm a relationship girl. I couldn't just flirt with and fuck Gabe."
"I know, and you shouldn't settle for anything less than the best."

"You should be more open about who you're interested in."
"Bah. Any girl who was ever interested in me has been proven to be a complete idiot."
"That's a nice thing to say about me. Thanks."
"Well, you don't count. You're not really a girl."

"So." We're back home. "What now?"
"Let's have sex."
"Good idea."
"Right." He laughs. "Like that would ever happen."

I am so hurt right now, I think I'm in shock.

Love,
CM

Making My Life Difficult

The date is 10/08/08.

I called Slim at 11:34AM. I had just rolled out of bed and was stumbling around in a semi-haze, but seeing as we'd agreed the night before, while BLATANTLY NOT MAKING OUT in his car (trust me, the lack of making-out was felt kilometers around as a shockwave that lasted multiple minutes), I was supposed to call him at 11:00, 11:30 at the latest.

So I dialled and waited. In a croak, I asked Slim's father if I could talk to his son. The man was kind enough to give me a pause long enough for me to cough and attempt to clear my throat. I was back in my room by now, with the phone, and feeling totally shitty.

"Urgh?" Slim's voice groaned on the line.

"Good morning sunshine," I croaked, and collapsed back on my bed, facedown.

"Hurglgh."

"I woke you up, didn't I?"

"You woke me up," he grunts, and I hear him shifting under his comforter, which I know is extremely soft. Because... well, I know.

"Huh... Huh, I don't even remember why I'm calling."

And it's true. I sit up with difficulty and wrack my sleepy brain, feeling like leftover macaroni.

Slowly, things piece themselves together again.

FLASHBACK 09/08/08

Slim is on MSN, and not replying. I'm bugging him because he told me he needed to go downtown give his CV to Archambault music store, and I need to figure out the train/bus/metro passes for next term, and the only place for information is downtown, presumably at the Berri-UQAM station.

HE was the one who had asked me, "Hey, I need to go downtown next week, wanna come with me?"

And I said, "Duh."

To which he had laughed and said, "I don't know why I even asked. Of course you do."

So we just needed to figure the whole thing out.

Of course, when Slim doesn't reply to instant messages, I get angry, and then I get paranoid, and then I get depressed. Angry because he's wasting my time, paranoid because he could be annoyed at ME for bugging him, and depressed because EVERYTHING is going WRONG.

Obviously, I'm slightly melodramatic.

Me: You busy?

Ten minutes later...

Me: I'll take that as a 'yes'.

Two hours later...

Me: Anyhow, if you're still interested in going downtown with me tomorrow, just give me a call or something. I'm going anyway, but some company would be nice. :)

No reply.

Two hours later, a sudden message pops up (I'd logged off and back on by now, having given up on Slim and wanting to end OUR WHOLE FRIENDSHIP BECAUSE HE OBVIOUSLY HATES ME):

Slim: CM, R U there?

Okay, I should have sulked. Instead, I went:

Me: Yup.
Slim: We're going to Isa's tonight, wanna come?
Me: Sure! I don't know where she lives, though.

Because I don't want to presume that he'll give me a lift, even though he now has a car to himself and all. And a new haircut that drives me completely up the wall (to quote Lyx, who saw a picture: "HOW ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO RESIST HIM NOW?!??!!"), because he is mindblowingly gorgeous now.

Slim: I'm working on this at the very moment.
Me: Oh. Okay.

I noticed that Mitch was online, so I presumed Slim was asking Mitch, who is Isa's boyfriend. I didn't bug him myself.

Five minutes later...

Slim: All right, I have a location.
Me: Target in range Y/N?
Slim: Negative. She lives far away, near Iva's.
Me: Really? Oh. :s
Slim: I can lift you.
Me: Are you sure??
Slim: Yes, I have the car. Always, now.
Me: Well, yes, but do you WANT to? That's the new question we'll be asking now.
Slim: Sh-ure.
Me: Okay! Thank you!!! So... when should I expect you?
Slim: Meh, I'm leaving in fifteen minutes. Gotta stop at the bank for a withdrawal, then I'll be at your place.
Me: Alright. Better get dressed then. :p

He was there half an hour later, ringing at the door rather than calling me with his cell. People calling from their car when they're parked in your driveway to say they're there is a little ridiculous. I mean, really.

I opened the door and melted all over again.

He is so, so pretty now, standing there in the porchlight. I had trouble meeting his eyes.

"Give me a second," I say, "I'll just grab the cell and say bye."

"Okay."

I expect him to amble back to his car to wait, but when I return he's still standing there patiently, observing my every move. I slip on my running shoes, grab my bag, and follow him out the door.

"We have a long road tonight," he says, apparently delighted. Usually, anyone else whines about this.

But I'm kind of glad to be stuck in an aluminum box with a guy I could totally lock up into a small, secluded room to have my way with.

"Oooh," I say, to prevent from asking him to just park in a dark street so we can have a go at the next generation of children, "can I be your navigator??"

"Yes," he says, laughing, as we both sit in his car. "I even have a map." He pulls out a tiny scrap of paper and hands it to me with a snicker. "Here."

I eye it; it only contains a few scribbles. Having been Slim's friend for so long, I'm one of the few mortals who can decrypt it (sometimes I decrypt it because even the author can't anymore, that's how bad Slim's handwriting is).

"It's an address. 56... Adam?"

"Yup."

"That's not very... helpful."

"Don't worry," he says, buckling up, "I know where we're going anyway. You don't have to worry about anything."

He's right. He slips in a music compilation CD with soundtracks from movies, and for most of the ride, in between chatting (read: arguing about nothing important), he would put on an obscure track and say, "Identify the movie."

Seeing as most of them were classics, I figured them out fairly quickly, but he still managed to make me laugh by replaying the movie scenes (in the shitty French dubs) where the soundtracks played. He seemed in a beautifully cheerful mood, and I know why. He's done with daycamp, and only has one week of childcare to go.

Yeah, you read that right. He voluntarily signed up for the camp's childcare services. Meaning he watches the kids from 7:00AM to 9:00AM, then from 3:00PM to 6:00PM. It's pretty much the shittiest hours a guy can get, and he went for them anyway.

DO YOU SEE WHY I LOVE THIS GUY?

Anyhow, he wasn't lifting anyone else tonight. Just me. We found the place fairly easily, with minimal arguing (if you can call laughing 'arguing'), and greeted Isa happily.

She was having a fire in her backyard, and Ban, Michelle and Mitch were already there. I sprayed myself with bug-repellent, then chose one of the chairs in the circle between Ban and Mitch. There was one other chair next to me, and though most of the chairs around the fire were still free, Slim opted for the one neighbouring me, claiming that he wanted to keep talking with Ban.

It may seem stupid, but Slim is really bad at making up excuses, and when he's faking his tone and attitude change until they become way too casual and I-have-not-thought-this-through-like.

I'd know; he did the same thing with Renée back in the days.

Which so totally brings Rick's mysterious words to mind, about how Rick knew something about Slim that might interest me a lot.

Rather than gloat, I ignored Michelle's cynical raised brow (Michelle is cynical and bitchy about everything and everyone, so ignoring her is quite easy by now), and focused on catching up with Isa and Mitch.

PB showed up; so did Kels and Guy. It wasn't a large gathering, but it was certainly pleasant, and the night progressed slowly, with the guys play-fighting on the large trampoline in the backyard. Ban was talking about movies, and how drunk he was, and how his break-up was going (much better). PB and Mitch were fighting it out, Kels was humouring Ban, Michelle interrupted with a few sly comments, and Isa watched on with the quiet goodness that makes everyone love her for no rational reason.

Meanwhile, Slim and I were roasting marshmallows.

To be exact, he roasted the first two (we had large metal forks to work with, with place for two marshmallows on them).

I begged, "CANNA HAVE ONE?"

"No," he snapped with a glint in his eyes, "They're all mine."

"PLEASE?"

"NO."

He was making them turn to a crisp gold, with the patience and care of a professional. I urged him to make them catch fire, because they're so good when carbonized (and I derive simple pleasure from blowing the fire out), but he refused.

"No, you ignorant fool. I'm making them PERFECT. Anyone can burn a marshmallow, but not everyone can appreciate the golden beauty..."

He lifted the fork off the fire, and showed me the golden marshmallows.

"Which one do you want?"

I was surprised.

"Er... I dunno, I thought you―"

"Here, have this one. It's nicely cooked." He flipped the fork over so the treat in question was closer to my mouth. I reached out to try and pluck it from the spike, but Slim moved the fork away with a warning glare.

"Dude. Their centres are melted by now. You'll crush them, and stick your fingers."

I squinted at him. "Well, then what?"

He moved the fork towards my mouth again wordlessly. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

And lowered my mouth carefully to the big marshmallow, being careful not to touch the other one (they'd grown fatter in the heat, and were melting together). And I pulled it off with my lips and teeth, gently.

Slim watched me do this in silence, then said, as I let the marshmallow fill my mouth (okay, he was right: it WAS perfect), "See? THAT's how you roast a marshmallow." He then brought the other one to his own mouth and ate it right off the fork, like I had.

Kissing marshmallows. The ritual had made me so very aware of Slim's mouth, I actually grew flustered.

"Well," I said, warding off the heat (OF THE FIRE), "I want to burn mine. Can I borrow the fork?"

"You can get your own," Slim said, pointing to the only other fork nearby.

We battled with them, then decided food was more important.

So we roasted marshmallows most of the evening, and while Slim kept arguing that I was an idiot for burning them black, he always did shut up when came the time for me to sit back, watch the blue flame devour the sugar, and gently blow it out, then eat.

The kind of games he and I could play in a bedroom, I swear...

"So what are you guys doing tomorrow?" Ban inquires to the general crowd.

Most of them reply 'nothing', but Guy remarks he wants to go downtown, which is when Slim says, "Hey, CM and I are going downtown tomorrow as well."

I swear to god, an actual silence fell on the group as everyone turned to stare at Slim and I as we drank our coolers.

"What?" I ask, sincerely confused. I mean, it's not the first time Slim and I go downtown together...

"Like..." Michelle's look doesn't lie, and I'm stunned to see it replicated in PB, Ban, Kels and Mitch's faces.

She means, 'Like a date?'

I say, casually, but shooting Michelle a warning glare, "He needs to drop his CV off, and I need to check the transit passes. Nothing pleasant, but still necessary."

Everyone relaxed, then, but I could still feel residual tension until I asked Guy, "Hey, if you want you can come with us."

Guy looked reluctant, and the attention was diverted as he announced he was going with a girl, himself. But Slim and I were careful not to bring anything suspicious up again (and I noticed Slim did not hurry to insist on Guy's presence the next day).

I swear, the more time passes, and the more we get awkward signals from our friends.

Eventually, we got tired, and I noticed Slim signalling for us to get a move on. So we excused ourselves, said goodbye, and left.

He drove me home, and we were a flurry of words, unstoppable as usual. In fact, we had so much to say to each other that when he parked in my driveway, we just stopped the engine and kept talking in the dark, laughing and joking about horror stories and serial killers.

Until I said, "So... what are we doing tomorrow?"

And he said, "I don't know..." He was tired, I knew, and seemed like he'd want nothing more than sleep right where he was. "Actually, I'm just so tired, I can't even say I'll be up for it tomorrow."

This, in Slim vernacular, means, 'We should cancel the whole thing'. I know, I've seen it before, and I know Slim's body-language better than he knows it himself.

I am hit by a wave of disappointment, and decide I will no longer conceal it. "That means it's not going to happen, right?"

He doesn't let on that I'm wrong. "I don't know, CM, I'm just really tired right now."

I laugh, and I can't say it's devoid of fondness. "Oh, Slim, you're so easy to read. You're saying, 'We should reconsider it', when you mean to say, 'I don't want to anymore'."

He says, laughingly, "Yeah, you know, I won't get that job anyway, so what's the point?"

I slap his arm, annoyed. "Don't you dare say that! You'll never know until you try!"

He concedes this, but still looks exhausted. "You know, you should just call me tomorrow and I'll tell you then whether I'm up for it or not."

"God," I say, "Okay. I can see this. You're going to bail on me. I'm going to call you, Slim, but I already know what's going to happen. Either you're going to claim you're too tired, either you'll be tired all day and act whiny with me, neither of which appeals to me. So. We should reschedule. Unless you're calling the whole thing off."

He's laughing. "You sound pretty sure that you've got me figured out. Maybe I should prove you're wrong."

I give him a flat look. "But you won't, if I know you."

His face clears up, and he looks astonished and highly entertained. "You know, I've got YOU figured out. The only reason you're telling me this is to fire me up and MAKE me go with you tomorrow. You're trying to make me contradict you, so you're telling me EXACTLY what you DON'T want, in order to obtain what you DO want, because you know nothing makes me happier than to go against your expectations and predictions."

... Okay, he's a clever and all-knowing bastard. I hate mind-readers.

"Admit it," he gloats. "Just say it."

"Okay, yes," I concede, "you're right. I AM trying to manipulate you through contradiction."

"HAH. Knew it. Now tell me what it is that you really want."

I'm fighting the urge to say, "You. I want you. I want to kiss you until you can't breathe, then pump you until you breathe too hard."

And the truth is, I really WANT to kiss him. It's like a physical ache inside me right that moment.

Instead, I say, "I want to go downtown."

"And you'd like me to go with you."

"Yes, I want to go downtown, and preferably, it'd be with you. I want to spend time with you."

Oops, oops, shut up before you go too far, CM.

"Okay," he says, leaning away from me. I then notice we were almost forehead to forehead as we argued. His tone is one of finality, one of detachment, the way people echo 'FINE' at the end of an argument where no one is the victor. But he's also satisfied, like he obtained what he wanted to know from me.

"But I know it's not going to happen," I add into the silence, which prompts a sudden outraged but absolutely amused glare from Slim.

"There you go again!" He exclaims, and I notice then that we really DO sound like an old couple at this point, the way everyone says we do. "You're just trying to manipulate me, admit it!"

I laugh and lean forward towards him, and he turns to squint at me indignantly. "Yes, Slim, I seek only to manipulate you into doing things that are entirely against your will." I sober up a little and add, "The truth is, I really want to go tomorrow, and I have this terrible, OMINOUS feeling―" Slim started chuckling at the word 'ominous', "―that it's not going to happen. And that kind of makes me sad."

He finally says, "Look, just call me at eleven tomorrow morning. Nothing earlier. Earlier than eleven is inhuman."

I had said the exact same thing to him earlier tonight. Now he's just appropriating my words for himself!

"Um, obviously. In fact, I may not be fully awake by then either."

He sighs. "Listen, if you give me time to wake up and get ready, I'll probably be more willing than I am now."

I am in love with this guy. This statement above? It seems like just another sentence, but it means A LOT.

It means he's caved in and is just trying to acquiesce with dignity. He's making a compromise. Good man. I love compromises. They work for me.

"Well, obviously. Um... I'll call you at eleven thirty."

He rolls his eyes. "Okay, sleepy-pants."

"And now, we are both off to sleep. Good night," I say, and lean forward again. "Thank you for the lift," I say, cheerfully, kissing his cheek with far more confidence now than the day before.

"Mwah," he mumbles as I retreat, in reply to the kiss itself, squinting at me darkly as he realises that I know his mind better than I ought to.

I shoot him a bright smile, and right before I close the door, I say, gleefully, "Sweet dreams!"

"Sweet dreams to you too," he says through the open window. He starts up the engine again and rears out of my driveway. In a few bounds, I'm through the door. I turn around and make a face at him, just for the heck. He simply waves back and rolls away.

Back to 10/08/08.

"Oh, I remember now," I suddenly croak. "It's about... um... about the... the thing... Are you up for it?"

"Not yet," he yawns.

"Obviously," I say. "I mean..." I lay back on my bed. "I still have to take a shower and eat breakfast and make myself presentable... Are we taking the train?"

"Five bucks a ticket is a lot," he mumbles. His voice is gravelly. Kind of sexy.

"Right... so... uh..." I pull my arms high over my head, tensing my legs to wake them up.

"Just... come to my place for one o'clock," he commands, like he's tired of thinking. I hear a rustle of fabric on the line, and a soft sigh and groan. He's stretching too, on his bed. I was hoping my own stretching wasn't audible, but apparently I was wrong.

"You're stretching," I sigh contentedly. "It does feel nice," I comment, feeling the circulation increase in my limbs, and the muscles tense delightfully.

On the line, he's audible, a mild groan of satisfaction coming through his breath. I can imagine him so clearly in my mind, stretching like a large cat, tangled in his blue comforter, his white tee riding up on his stomach, his wrists and ankles at straight angles with his limbs, his eyes screwed shut in contentment, his mouth pulled into a tight-lipped smile, his hair sticking up weirdly, his chest rising with every deep breath...

I know him. I just do. My body knows. I'm doing the same.

Finally, he releases the tension and says, into the phone, with a satisfied mumble, "So, yeah. See you later."

"Okay," I say, sighing. "I'll call you before I leave."

"Good," he mumbles, and we both hang up.

When I did come up to his home, both garage doors were open, and his parents and sister were there, cleaning the large area. Slim was there, chatting with his father, and as I stepped out of the car, both his mother and sister greeted me cheerfully.

The first thing they asked me, by the way, was, "CM! Tell us what you think of Slim's new haircut!!"

They all eyed me expectantly.

I said, happily, "I really think he's cute like that!"

From behind Slim, who was eyeing me with a look I can't really define because it carried little meaning, Slim's father motioned exaggeratedly 'He's HANDSOME. HAND-SOME. SAY IT.'

"We like that he's clean-cut now," his mother comments.

"Thanks, Mom," Slim replies, his tone sarcastic.

A short chat with his family, and suddenly they all made themselves scarce, save for Slim. I followed him downstairs so he could grab a drumset piece he wanted to replace (a visit to Steve's music store was in order), and as he swiftly worked the keys and screws, his fingers familiar with all motions, I couldn't help myself. I said, "You know, your parents are right. You really are handsome."

He looked up, his brow furrowed, as though he was wondering where I'd hidden the insult in my statement. But I was honest, and he didn't seem to know what to make of it. So he shrugged awkwardly, and looked back down at his working hands. "I don't know... I didn't really fix my hair today..."

His profile is just beautiful. "You look like a really good guy now."

"You mean I don't look like a hobo," he jokingly comments. He brings a greasy hand up and brushes his cheek absently. "Didn't shave this morning, though." He returns to his work until he finally looses the piece he was looking for. It's the connection between his double-pedals.

"What's wrong with it?" I ask.

"Missing a screw, and it squeaks. I tried Jigaloo but it just keeps squeaking. It's a really bad distraction."

"Huh."

He hands it to me, and wipes his smeared hands with a dirty cloth. "Can you carry it in your bag? I won't have my backpack with me today."

"Sure, provided you give me a plastic bag for it."

He waggles a finger as we leave his drum room, and finds me a plastic bag. "Exploitation," he teases.

"You know it."

"Come on," he says, guiding me back outside, cheerfully, "let's get moving."

It's a beautiful sunny day. We listen to Dream Theater on the way over, singing along to Ministry of Lost Souls at the top of our lungs, until he parks behind Taco Bell (no parking fee, and no questions), and we walk to the Côte-Vertu station, buying tickets and finding seats in the metro. I chose a window seat, but there were plenty of empty seats to choose from.

Slim chose the one next to me rather than the one across.

The ride all the way down was silent, but we started talking again the moment we stepped back out into the sunlight, across the street from Archambault Musique. I handed Slim his CV (which I'd been carrying as well) and he filled in an application form.

We then walked back out onto the street, and strolled down Ste-Catherine street, aka one of the busiest boulevards in Montreal, discussing university, zombies, and the dream Slim had the night before (involving vampire bats and getting eaten alive... yeah, I know), until I spotted an Omer DeSerres, the ultimate art supplies store.

I had been telling Slim that if he wanted to, he was allowed to punch me for making really stupid comments when drunk. He'd raised a brow, fisted his hand.

And then he lifted it to his mouth, kissed it gently, and shot me a grin. He didn't even pretend to hit me. He just let it go.

Flustered, I asked Slim whether we could go into the art store, and he humoured me.

I was looking for one of those soft-tip markers, and found the Faber Castel brand. I didn't have money for a twelve-pack (65$), so I chose three colours from the individual selection, one red, one green, and one blue.

I was hesitating between two blues, though, so I turned to Slim then and held them up. One of them was cyan, and the other was more cobalt. "Pick one."

He blinked. "What? Why?"

"I want a blue one. But I don't know which one I should choose."

"Which one do you like most?"

"Both. That's why I'm asking you."

"You shouldn't be asking me. I make bad decisions."

"Just pick one," I said, exasperated, as we both laughed.

"I don't really see the difference," he finally said. "I mean, they're both blue."

"But one of them," I said, "is more cobalt, and one of them is more cyan. Which one do I want?" I turned back to the stand and examined them again, critically.

I swear to God that at that moment Slim mumbled something under his breath along the lines of "You want to have sex with me?"

I know, I couldn't believe my ears either.

But when I turned back asking, "I'm sorry? I didn't catch that?" he played innocent.

Too innocent. He even said, "No, nothing. It's not important."

I stayed bewildered, trying to make sense of what was going on. Then again, he was probably joking, obviously. He doesn't know the effect he has on me, let alone that his suggesting this would actually make me insane. He wouldn't be serious.

As though to avert any further questioning, he pointed at the cobalt blue pen and said, "That one. It's not as pale, but it's brighter."

"Brighter," I agreed.

"Yeah," he then picked the pens from my hands and started giving them voices. " 'Hi, I'm cobalt blue, and I'm bright'; 'Hi, I'm cyan blue and I'm not assertive enough'. There." By now we were both laughing like madpeople, ignoring the indignant looks of onlooking self-proclaimed artists. "You get it, though? One of them is dark but bright, and the other is pale but meh, not quite sure what to make of himself." He rambled on and on. "He has issues in school and the other pens make fun of him, even though he's a good guy, you know."

"Okay," I laughed, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him towards the cash, "shut up now."

"It's a sad, sad story, you know," Slim went on, and we were both snickering like fools, our chuckles resonating in the whole store. "Pens like him don't get much psychological support. If you donate to the Help the Under-Appreciated Pens foundation, we can help him."

We now have tears of mirth in our eyes. I am in love with him. So in love.

"Do you think they sell drum keys here?"

I said, thoughtfully, "I doubt it."

He laughed loudly as an image came to his mind. "No, they sell art supplies, nothing musical, except they mysteriously have a stock of drum keys between the colouring pencils and plastic cut-outs. Just the drum keys. Nothing else. People see them and go 'what the fuck?' " I laugh. He adds, "And, for a limited time only, buy five drum keys and get YOUR VERY OWN signed Tama five-piece drum set!"

"How convenient," I laughed. He was still wiping away tears of laughter from before. We didn't even care that everyone eyed us oddly.

We exchanged more stupid comments on our way out and towards Steve's Music Store. There, Slim bought a new twin-action pedal, fixed the piece that was squeaking, and picked up new sticks, a couple of drum keys and screws. He spent some two hundred dollars.

"Let's go home now," he said as we walked out. "I don't want to carry all this forever." He's cheerful as hell.

"Okay, but can we stop by some McDonald's on the way back? I'm starving."

"Sure, but... Well, if you'd rather, you can have supper back at my place, if you want... Mom said you were welcome."

"Really? You're sure?"

"Of course. She likes you." He says this so matter-of-factly, as though the idea of anything else occurring to me is outlandish and ridiculous.

So we made our way back through subway, then by car. His parents were glad to have me over.

"Are you sure I can stay?" I ask. "Slim told me I was welcome."

"Of course you're welcome," his mother declares. "Supper will be ready in half an hour."

"Perfect," Slim said, "that gives us time to start one of the movies."

He means the movies he made with the kids at daycamp. He's quite proud of them, and while the kids themselves aren't excellent actors, they manage to make things that obviously amuse them greatly. Slim's work is hilarious, and at many moments during playback, I'd suddenly burst out laughing.

One gag in particular made me suddenly bark with laughter, and Slim eyed me in wonder.

"Dude," he said, "I was the only one who thought that was funny! I edited it and thought it was funny, but no one else laughed! Except you."

"Are you kidding me?" I said, snickering, "that was great! The timing was perfect!"

He seemed pleased that the gag didn't go unnoticed and that he wasn't alone to think it was funny. In fact, he seemed amazed that I, of all people, would be the only one to laugh at the same joke as him without being forewarned that the joke was coming up.

We had supper, until Slim made me try out Defend Your Castle for Wii. Which really amuses me.

But then it was getting late. I preferred to get ready for a night out with the others. Slim's work in the morning pretty much keeps him from going out late at night, but I wasn't going to miss out. So I called Mom and told Slim, who was then gathering stars in Mario64 that I was going to wait outside.

I was about to lean down and thank him for everything, but he suddenly paused the game and exited. "Enough of this. Tired."

And he followed me down the stairs and outside. I walked past his front porch and onto the lawn, around the little pond. He followed confusedly, watching as I sat on the sidewalk.

"Why so far out?" He asked.

"I felt like it."

And it's true, there weren't any further motives. He sat down next to me, and before I could say anything, he suddenly said, "I wanna open the pedal box." And darted towards his car, where he'd left the boxes of his purchases. He looked like a little boy on Christmas day when he returned, and sat next to me again.

I watched his hands work at the cardboard cheerfully, the motions excited but careful. He has nimble fingers, but his hands do seem strong. And big. I'd caught myself staring at them more than once during the day, like when he was holding the steering wheel. He has a dusting of light brown hair on the back of his hands, and strong but narrow wrists, attached to forearms so sinewy they make me light-headed. Hands like that could pretty much make me pass out.

"Look at this little baby," he said, excitedly, as he carefully unwrapped the metal pedal.

I looked at him instead. His eyes were bright and happy as he manipulated his newest purchase.

He is so, so handsome. I wanted to kiss him.

I didn't even look at what he was doing with the pedal. I just looked at his face, at his expressions, the way his brows would furrow a split-second then relax the next.

"I can't believe I got a twin-effects for so cheap," he was saying, happily.

"Yeah, you were lucky."

"I know!" He looked up and grinned broadly at me.

Still, every time a car turned the corner and passed us, he would sober up and ask, softly, "Is that your lift?" Like he didn't want me to leave.

All day, I had been carrying a sheet of paper with me, folded neatly into my jeans pocket, with a list on it. Fourteen Reasons We Should Get Together. It goes like this:

1. You make me lose my words, so I actually have to write them down. Like this. I’m pretty sure I’d regain my speech abilities if we got together. And you don’t want me to be useless in an argument, do you?

2. We connect. Nobody connects like that. It’s unnatural. Staying friends would seem like a waste when we’ve got this kind of connection.

3. I’m not a girly-girl, and you’re not a macho-man. Neither of us is what the other finds annoying.

4. You have really soft lips. And beautiful hands. And a nice ass. And you’re handsome. I can’t help thinking about… yeah.

5. It’s fickle, but you really do make my heart go FWOOMP inside my chest.

6. You want a girl who will make the first move. I want a guy who will let me do what I want. And I want to make the first move. It works, see?

7. You’re a relationship guy, and I’m a relationship girl.

8. We wouldn’t have to wage wars against each other’s empire. We’d just rule it together, and that way I’d have more than just Saturn.

9. You don’t like tomatoes. I don’t like peppers. We can unite against red vegetables.

10. Our tastes and opinions are so similar that we already know what the other’s thinking with a single glance. It’s freaky, but it’s way more awesome than anything any one of our friends has ever known.

11. I don’t, in fact, think about other guys wanting to date me but not daring to because you’re in the picture. To be exact, I don’t give a damn.

12. People asking, insinuating, wondering or insisting to know about us dating is getting a little old, and us actually dating would most definitely be new.

13. Michelle told me, open quote, “It'd be weird if you had a boyfriend, but it wouldn't be weird if it were Slim.” End quote. I mean, come on. This is Michelle we’re talking about.

And if you're not convinced already, here is my last resort:

14. I love you.

I considered taking it out then. I really did.

But fate hates me.

Mom's car turned the corner.

So Slim and I stood. He was still excitedly talking about the pedal, until he noticed Mom. He stopped smiling gradually, until eventually he looked disappointed. I turned to him.

"So," I said, as cheerily as possible, "um, we'll talk. I still want you to see the Dark Knight, and we should go on five-bucks Tuesday. So..." I reach out to touch his shoulder, and I see him lean forward, as though he's waiting for the usual kiss on the cheek...

But Mom is looking at us, and I just can't, because I'd never hear the end of it. Mom has been asking more and more questions lately, like, 'When is he going to ask you out, already?'

So my hand trails down his sleeve slowly until I let go, and I smile at him, and he moves back, looking a little disappointed (!!!). He smiles back, a little sheepishly, but the bright spark in his eyes isn't there.

God, life sucks.

I turn towards Mom, and he waves at her politely, putting the pedal box back into his car trunk with the rest. He'll probably take everything in later.

"He looks sad," Mom comments. "Every time I see him when come pick you up, he looks sad and tired."

I frown. "What are you talking about?"

"Was he okay with you today?"

"Yes, more than okay. He was cheerful all along."

"Well, he looks sad now."

"Must be because I'm leaving," I joke, and Mom says nothing.

Seriously, what? I look back at Slim, but he's already heading back into his house. Poop, no way to judge.

Anyhow, I asked Mom to take me straight to the local bar, where everyone else was meeting up. I waited half an hour for them to show up (it was early), but pretty much everyone came in: Kels, Ban, Michelle, Rick, Drew, Fred, Mitch, Isa, AA, Melanie, Maria, PB, and even Gabe and one of his friends.

Gabe, by the way, is so totally flirting with me these days. It's kind of hilarious... considering that if I weren't in love with Slim, Gabe would probably also be my type. He's different from Slim in many ways, but he's quite charming. He's got wit to keep up with me, humour to take my jokes to new level, and we have a few points in common (example: he hates the taste of alcohol, but drinks anyway, like I do).

It helps that he's quite handsome too, and muscled like a soccer player (I have a thing for soccer players). That said, he's not as tall as Slim, and I even think he's exactly my height... without heels.

So I can't wear heels around him or I dwarf him. That sucks. At least I could wear my highest heels with Slim and he was still taller than me (I know, I know, we established already that Slim is perfect, but come on!).

We hung out until 1:45AM, laughing and getting excited over our plans for the remainder of the summer. As usual, people asked me where Slim was (for once, I knew), and why he wasn't there (no one whined about the reason for his absence being dumb, this time).

I ignored Michelle when she asked me "Did you buy condoms?" Her insinuations are just tasteless sometimes.

Slim and Michelle have a sort of hypocritical acquaintance going on. Every time I'm with one of them, they bitch against the other; Michelle says Slim is too much of a baby and a whiner; Slim says Michelle is too much of an anal-retentive bitch. Deciding who's right and wrong therefore becomes a game of choosing between the egg and the hen. I let them talk, but I tend to agree with Slim more. At least HE doesn't bitch against people he has no reason to hate.

So I ignored Michelle's comments on Slim's attitude, of late, and chat with Gabe and the boys. We had a real good time.

Finally, Drew offered me a lift home, along with Ban (since Ban and I live two minutes away from each other, we're a package deal), but not before Rick made sure I was free to hang out with him and Slim later this week.

So I stumbled home, and went to bed, and this is why you get such a late update.

Love,
CM