Sunday, September 14, 2008

Hacked, Sloshed, Repentant, Exhausted

If you're not ready for a sizeable tale, I'll simply give you a quick summary and you'll move along:

Slim's account got hacked into on Thursday, I got completely wasted on Friday, I felt utterly miserable and ashamed about it on Saturday, and Slim was an angel Sunday. And Monday. But then he became an asshole on Tuesday and Wednesday.

Actually, Slim was an angel the whole week through (except Tuesday and Wednesday of this week), but I'm trying to reduce my sense of guilt by reducing how much more amazing he was than I.

Before I begin telling you about Thursday, you have to know that it was Iva's birthday on Friday, and that, as usual, I had prepared a card for her. I had, however, changed my formula to include messages from all of our common friends, and the others had jumped in with so much enthusiasm that I was glad. The only one by Thursday night who still had his message to send was Slim.

So, of course, having not seen him online all evening, I jumped on the occasion the moment he sparked a conversation with me...

Slim: Okay!
Me: For the love of god. Do you have the message for Iva? D:
Slim: I LOVE IVAAA
Me: .... You want me to write that? Because I will.
Slim: yes lol
Slim: I always wanted to tell her that I LOVE HER
Me: You don't know what you're getting into. I swear I will.
Slim: Go for it.
Me: ... No, seriously?
Slim: yeah
Slim: GOD she's so pretty

I knew by then that Slim was not in his usual state of mind. For all that he HAD proclaimed to be interested in Iva, he'd denied with clarity and reason for the past four months that he just couldn't see any sparks. Not to mention, it was obvious to me that he was excited in ways that just weren't... Slim.

Me: Are you drunk atm? Because... um, you sound like a fifth-grader on crack.
Me: Slim?
Slim: frog?
Me: Okay.
Slim: I like turtles
Me: I'm going to step away now and pretend this encounter never happened.
Me: And whoever this is I'm talking to, you're charming. No, really.

Yeah, I knew by now that I wasn't talking to 'my' Slim. I figured it was a bad prank, either on Rick or Guy's parts...

Slim: lol im kidding , so wats up
Me: Not much. Le BeG était MORT aujourd'hui. ("The Staples was DEAD today." -- read: no customers)
Me: Slim est-ce que ça va? ("Slim, are you alright?")
Slim: speak american plz
Slim: what is that french?
Me: Look, I'm really tired and I want to get this done. Please.

I figured that whoever the prankster was, they'd just let Slim on so that I could get this overwith.

Slim: hm kay
Slim: i dont get it
Me: I don't understand. What is up with you??
Slim: i love you

Yeah, not my Slim. Not my Slim.

Goddammit, I hate heart-attacks.

Me: Right. Okay.
Me: I bet this is Erich or something. A prank.
Slim: lulz
Me: Jesus Christ.
Me: Slim, please.
Slim: where do you live
Slim: I dont know you at all
Slim: WAT DOYOU WANT FROM MEEEEE

So now I'm getting sick of the stupid prank. I snap.

Me: Look, if you're going to be this idiotic, I'd rather just go to bed. I'm tired and I've had a long day and I'm in a really weird mood that I'd rather not aggravate. Please.
Slim: okokok
Slim: but
Slim: realy
Slim: wat do you want
Me: Le message pour Iva.
Slim: wat MESSAGE!>??! damit
Me: FOR HER FUCKING CARD, GOD FUCKING DAMMIT.
Slim: WOW
Me: THE ONE WHERE YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO WISH HER HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
Slim: calm down
Slim: oh sh-
Slim: ah yeah
Slim: gawd
Slim: hem
Slim: wait lemme think
Me: Look, I'm sorry, okay. I didn't mean to use caps... much.
Slim: its ok its ok
Slim: tell her...
Slim: IDK I HACKED THAT ACCOUNT AND I DONT FUCKING CARE
Slim: YOU DOOFUS

At this point, I'm pondering that perhaps the hacking story is true. So I start texting Slim.

And Melanie also starts speaking to me.

Mel: CM, are you talking to Slim?!
Me: A guy stole his account.
Mel: Goddammit.
Me: Stop talking to him, I'm calling Slim.
Mel: Okay, good. I hate people that dumb.

Meanwhile,

Hack: GO TO BED AND GO FUCK YOUR SELF YOU DIPSHIT
Hack: oh lawd i hacked a frenchy

I finally contact Slim. He's away from home, at Rick's place, except he confirms he's not on MSN at all, and so he takes the news with incredulity. He assures me he'd check things out, and I turn back to my computer, phone in hand, and decide that, since I'm dealing with an actual hacker, I might as well have fun.

Me: So if I speak to you in French, you won't understand shit?
Me: Hahahaha. Sweet.
Hack: lol frog
Me: Je présume que grenouille fait référence à notre francophonie, ce qui, en fait, est une croyance erronée, puisque nous ne sommes pas français, ni le possesseur de ce compte volé, ni moi-même. ("I presume that the frog refers to our French origins, which, in fact, is an erroneous belief, seeing as we are not French, neither the owner of this stolen account nor myself.")
Hack: je peu parler francais ("I can speak in French.")
Me: Nice. In that case, you'll realise what I just told you. And you'll cease with the frog thing.
Hack: ok mais c juste drole ("Okay, but it's just funny.")
Me: Bof. Pas plus que ça. ("Meh. Not that much.")
Hack: pour moi ("For me.")
Me: Ah, je vois. ("Ah, I see.")

Hack: paske g tout ses accounts (" 'Cause I have all his accounts.")

Here, Slim starts to cuss because I just relayed this information to him. He consults Rick and Ban for suggestions on how to tackle the intruder. Meanwhile, I do my best to find out more.

Me: Pourquoi, exactement? Ça te sert à quoi? ("Why, exactly? What use does it have for you?")
Hack: rien mais je vais prendre son steam pour voir si ya du bon stuff ("Nothing, but I'm going to take his Steam to see if he's got good stuff.")

Which is when the hacker gets forcefully disconnected. I watched as Slim's account flickered on and off, alternating between the name Slim had set up at Rick's place and the one our hacker had changed it to.

Me: lol
Hack: wut

He gets disconnected again.

Me: LOL

He connects again.

Hack: WHAT
Me: LOL!

And then, the flickering stops.

Hack: ya plus de danger maintenant ("No threat anymore.")
Hack: JAI CHANGER LE PASS ("I changed his password.")

Slim, on the phone, can't understand why he can't log in anymore. I relay this new information to him, as well as the information about his Steam account. Slim quickly decides the money invested in his Steam account is worth more than his free email account. With a new cuss, he races to change his Steam account to a new email address. But for this, he needs to create one. So I try to stall the hacker.

Me: Pourquoi? ("Why?")
Hack: cuz im leet
Me: Do you enjoy this?
Hack: nop
Me: Do you even know him?
Hack: nop
Me: Then... why?
Hack: im evil thats why

Here he managed to get into Slim's Steam account and look at his purchases. Slim was finalizing his new email address.

Hack: lol he's a gamer
Me: Yeah, we all are.
Hack: cool
Hack: would you be my friend
Me: Sure. Where you from?
Hack: I LOL'D
Hack: in fact i'm from montreal
Hack: i have a list of 9000 emails
Hack: pis c juste une coincidence ke jai pogner un email de montreal ("And it's just a coincidence that I got an email from Montreal.")
Hack: so, yeah
Me: But why are you taking his Steam stuff?
Hack: wanna play 1.6
Me: Let me get this straight.
Me: You can hack into people's accounts, but instead of using those skills to get your own Steam, you take others'?
Me: That doesn't make much sense...

Here, Slim assures me his Steam account was tranferred and that it is safe. So I start probing for more, even as Ban also speaks to the hacker, using different methods. At this point, Slim logs in with his new address.

Slim2: Hey.
Me: Hey.
Slim2: That's the real me btw.
Slim2: My Steam and Facebook are safe.
Me: I know, I'm comforted... but please change your font color and shit 'cause otherwise I'm confused. The other guy has the standard default text, like you right now.
Me: God, the asshole said so many things that just weren't you. I thought you were drunk at first.
Slim2: Whenever you have the chance, tell people to re-ad me. But don't write my account in your name 'cause he'll see it.
Me: Obviously. I'm not an idiot. 9.9
Slim2: And I can make a lot of changes 'cause I'm on old MSN.
Me: Cool. Um... is there anything happening?
Me: 'Cause the asshole is just sitting there.
Slim2: He's talking to Ban and he's trying to send him a list of all the hacked e-mails he has, but we don't want to dl just in case it's bad.
Me: Good.
Slim2: He has hacked over 9000 accounts, and apparently he's 17.
Slim2: And the biggest loser on Earth.
Me: Hahaha
Slim2: I'll ask Dan at Staples about this.
Me: Yeah, but I doubt he'll do much.
Slim2: Worth a shot.
Me: I guess.

Meanwhile:

Me: What else can you see? Of Slim's stuff?
Hack: i dont care
Hack: that he watch porn daily
Me: Okay. And...?
Hack: He bangs. lol

I know Slim's aversion for Internet porn, so I discard this information as useless.

Me: Charming. That's it? That's the extent of your reach?
Hack: probably
Me: Huh. I guess that's interesting.
Hack: anyway ... Want his passwords?
Hack:

Ban dit: yo how was that chick last night u drove home
SPAM THIS ADDRESS dit: dammmm she was so good
SPAM THIS ADDRESS dit : she wanted it in the ass
Ban dit :lol aiight dude wut are u trying to prove here


Me: So you have access to all his online stuff?
Me: Wait lol You have MSN in French?

This is a reference to the fact that his copy-pasted conversations included the verb 'dit', which is French for 'says'.

Me: Hahahaha
Hack: wat?
Hack: why
Hack: no
Hack: ahh yeah

Slim2:I told ya CM.
Me: That your week would be ruined because you were too happy?
Slim2: Yeah, remember the other day, I was telling you how happy I was...
Slim2: And I knew something bad would happen to bring me down?
Slim2: There. I'm cursed.
Me: I think that there's a lesson here, but I prefer not to think about it in case it makes you suicidal. Slim, please, don't let this ruin your good mood. I beg you.

Me: Are you ever going to give him his account back, once you're done?
Me: 'Cause I don't think he really minds much, but it's inconvenient for the rest of us lol
Hack: im tired i have school tomorow so bai

I leave him alone for a while, speaking on the phone with Slim about whatever Ban has gathered. Notably his age.

Me: So, you're seventeen?
Hack: Ya bitch!
Me: Impressive. I thought it was way past your bedtime by now?
Hack: lawl
Me: :P I try to be amusing when I can. It's what old people do.
Hack: im so 1337 stfu
Me: Hahaha and you l33tspeak. I remember the good ole times...
Hack: y34h
Hack:


Ban dit : listen we have like our childhood in that account it would be awesome if u could give it back master
SPAM THIS ADDRESS dit : Ohmagawd
Ban dit : svp mon seigneur ("Please my lord")

Hack: lol what a retarded

I tell Ban to stop, because he's making fun of them and begging is not only degrading, it's also useless. I plan to use alternate methods.

Slim2: We don't care if he's laughing at Ban.
Slim2: And no, I'm not that sad; I was scared for my Steam account mostly.
Slim2: But I still have it.
Me: Yeah, it's just that this is the kind of thing that will obsess you.

Me: Bah, he's a good guy. Honestly, though, you didn't answer my previous question. WILL you return the account? Or do you not know how?

Yeah, that insult was deliberate.

Hack: ITS OVER NINE THOUSAND
Me: So you DON'T know how. Okay, I'll be sure to tell him to set up a new account, then.
Hack: 'kay
Hack: good idea
Hack: GTFO MA INTERWEBZ
Me: Am I supposed to take this as a warning that you'll remove me from his contact list?

I was hoping he wouldn't, because while I had him talking, he was still catchable.

Hack: no
Hack: u such a newfag

To make sure, I use some reverse psychology.

Me: I'm just asking, because you'd actually be doing me a favour.
Hack: no
Hack: why do you keep me then YOU ENJOY IT LIKE ALITTLE BITCH
Me: In a way, yeah. It's highly entertaining to talk with you.
Hack: THANK YOU
Hack: i apreciate
Me: I mean only to be truthful.

Now that I had him, I was going to keep him until he went insane. I couldn't get Slim's address back, but I could at least make the hacker regret EVER opening a conversation with me. And I'd be so nice about it, too.

Me: So is this how you spend your evenings? What do you study in school?
Me: I assume you're in cegep.
Me: I was in arts.
Hack: lol youll not believe me but im studying in technique en batiment (basically, that's like a high school specialized diploma in building development and construction)
Me: Really? So you're doing a technique. Nice. We need more of those.
Me: And you like it?
Hack: yes
Hack: ill be rich
Hack: more than you loolololol

Me: Gah, the snarky little twerp. He's studying technique en bâtiment in cegep.
Slim2: Ok, I'm out; I'll log back in, in 15 mins.

He was headed home, where he'd have a broader access to his accounts. So I keep the hacker online. Ban logs out, defeated. I'm alone to fight the hacker.

Me: Hahaha probably. But whatever, you do what you love and all.
Hack: hmhmm
Me: Aw, Ban left.
Me: I'm sad now.
Hack: baww
Me: So what are you up to atm? I'm bored.
Me: Tell me.

He foolishly took too much time to reply. I unleashed my wrath.

Me: Don't make me sing Disney songs to you, dude.
Me: I know a lot of them.
Me: Talk to me.
Hack: wat
Me: How about this one: "Well Ali Baba had them forty thieves, Scheherezade had a thousand tales..."
Hack: what the...
Me: "Master you're in luck 'cause up your sleeve you got a brand of magic that never fails"
Hack: oh lawd
Me: It's Friend Like Me from Aladdin.
Me: Awesome, right?
Hack: hemm .yea?
Me: I know. And I know plenty more.
Me: Like, "It's the ciiiiiiiircle of liiiiiife and it moves us aaaaaall!"
Hack: tu me fait penser a une de mes amies ("You make me think of one of my friends.")
Me: PEUT-ÊTRE QUE C'EST MOI! ("MAYBE IT'S ME!")
Me: HAHAHAHA
Hack: non elle parle pas francais ("No, she doesn't speak French.")
Me: Ah, dommage. ("Ah, too bad.")
Hack: et elle vie en virginia ("And she lives in Virginia.")
Hack: so
Me: "Be... our... guest, be our guest, put our service to the test, tie your napkin round your neck chérie and we'll provide the rest."
Me: J'aime ça, je peux te chanter des chansons de Disney et tu me cries pas après. ("I like this, I can sing you Disney songs and you don't scream at me.")
Hack: rofl
Me: Moi j'ai une amie au Texas. Elle parle pas beaucoup français. Elle me niaise en disant 'mercy buckets". ("I have a friend in Texas. She doesn't speak much French. She teases me by saying 'mercy buckets'.")
Me: C'est d'un charmant à plus finir. ("It's of a never-ending charm.")
Hack: lmao
Hack: bin moi elle dit tabarnak pis calisse ("Well, mine swears a lot.")
Me: So anyway, je connais aussi la Petite Sirène. ("So anyway, I also know the Little Mermaid.")
Me: Et la Belle au Bois Dormant. ("And Sleeping Beauty.")
Me: Choisis en une, je vais voir si je la connais. ("Choose one, I'll see if I know it.")
Hack: je sais pas ("I don't know.")
Hack: roy lion ("Lion King.")
Me: Quoi? Tu connais pas tes classiques de Disney---ah, c'est mieux. ("What? You don't know your Disney classics-- ah, that's better.")
Me: Hm... voyons voir. ("Hm... let's see.")
Me: "Oh I just can't WAIT to be king!"
Hack: voir ke tu ten rapelle ("Figures you'd remember.")
Me: Ben oui. Je connais aussi the Hunchback of Notre-Dame. ("Well yeah. I also know the Hunchback of Notre-Dame.")
Me: "What I'd give, what I'd dare, just to live one day out there!!!!"
Hack: AHAHAH ALOOLOL
Hack: sa sa ma fait rire irl ("That, that made me laugh in real life.")
Me: Bon, tu vois? C'est ça, la magie de Disney. ("Well, you see? That's Disney magic.")
Hack: lul
Me: Tu devrais re-regarder ça. ("You should re-watch them movies.")
Me: C'est franchement bon. ("It's jolly good.")
Hack: mouin en VHS ("Yeah, in VHS.")
Me: Ben oui. Quoique moi je les télécharge. ("Well yes. Although I download them.")
Hack: ouin too ("Me too.")
Me: Parce que notre VHS est pété. C'est triste. ("Because our VHS machine is broken. It's sad.")
Hack: oh
Me: Oui, je sais. ("Yeah, I know.")
Hack: coudon tu me parle doncbin ("Say, you talk to me a lot.")
Me: (Ben, vu que tu comptes pas me deleter, je me le permets!) À moment donné, il a mangé notre VHS de Free Willy. ("(Well, since you're not going to delete me, I allow myself!) At one point, it ate our Free Willy VHS.")
Me: J'ai eu le coeur brisé. ("My heart shattered.")
Hack: lol ki sa ("lol Who?")
Me: Notre lecteur VHS. Essaie de suivre, là, je te raconte un dur chapitre de ma vie, dude. Toi, t'as déjà vécu un moment difficile comme ça? Ça frappe, hein? ("Our VHS machine. Try to follow, please, I'm telling you about a rough chapter in my life, dude. You, have you ever lived a difficult moment like that? It's hard, huh?")
Hack: oh oui c'est des momments triste ki sont dure a en parler ("Oh, yeah, they're sad moments I find hard to talk about.")
Me: Chill, chill. Moi je comprends ça. ("Chill, chill, I understand that.")

At this point, Hack logged out, and back in.

Me: Tiens, tu m'as soit bloqué, soit t'es vraiment offline. ("Well, you either blocked me, you're either really offline.")

Me: Ça, ça m'attriste. ("Now that saddens me.")
Slim: CM it's me I can take it back.
Slim: I'm struggling

He's forcefully logged out, but comes back in again.

Slim: Proof its me:
Slim: Staples tomorrow.
Me: DUDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Slim: Noon to nine.
Me: :D :D :D :D :D I can tell it's you.

Log out then back in.

Slim: But he keeps logging me off.
Me: The font is different.
Slim: I have to change my password.

Here, the unexpected occurs. An unknown email address tries to add me to their contacts.

Me: He's trying to add me to his own personal list.
Slim: Obviously, don't.
Slim: Is it "citizen-m-x" who's trying to add you?
Me: Yes. But I blocked him.
Slim: 'Kay. Remember this account name. I'm logging as my other name.
Me: Alright.
Slim: Wait 2 sec.
Me: Ok.

Slim then forcefully gets kicked.

Hack: hey
Me: Hey, it's you again! What's up?

But the struggle continues. Slim returns.

Slim: The only way I can still log in this account is because the passcode is recorded on my PC, so whatever the passcode is, I have it...
Slim: Can I call you?
Me: Wait, on my cell.
Slim: Ok, I'm calling.

Slim then leaves, and the hacker returns.

Hack: finaly
Me: Hello again!
Hack: lol
Me: So. More singing?
Hack: HELLE no plzzzzz
Me: But my voice is so charming!
Hack: yea sure taime tu mieu francais ou englais? ("Do you like French or English more?")
Me: Les deux! Chuis bilingue à 100%! :D ("Both! I'm 100% bilingual!")
Me: Toi? ("You?")
Hack: francais ("French.")
Me: Ah. Alors je te mets mal à l'aise quand je parle anglais? ("Ah. So I make you uncomfortable when I speak in English?")
Hack: non c'est juste que jaime mieu sa sa definis mieu se kon dit ("No, I just find that French defines what we say better.")
Me: Bof, quand t'as le vocabulaire, ça marche quand même. ("Bah, when you have the vocabulary, it works just fine.")
Me: AH! Je saigne! J'me suis accrochée!!! ("AH! I'm bleeding! I scraped myself!")

Note: This is a lie, because the last thing I want is to get into a heated language argument with him.

Hack: je sais pas je trouve sa mieu ("I dunno, I think it's better.")
Hack: wat
Me: J'ai une piqûre de moustique sur le poignet. Des fois ça saigne. :( ("I have a mosquito bite on my wrist. Sometimes it bleeds.")

Note: This is true.

Me: Mais pleure pas pour moi, j'vais être ok. ("But don't cry for me. I'll be okay.")
Hack: c'est trop dure je craque! ("It's too hard, I'm done for!")
Hack: HUHUHU (*sobbing*)
Me: Je sais!!! Moi aussi je trouve ça triste! Prends un kleenex, ça va passer, je te le promets. Je suis fière de toi. En masse. ("I know!!! I also find it sad! Take a kleenex, it'll pass, I promise. I'm so proud of you. Really.")
Hack: tas laire de kelkun ke jai deja vu sa photo mais je suis pa sure ("Your picture looks like someone of whom I've seen the face somewhere... But I'm not sure.")
Me: Je sais pas, là. C'est une photo de moi au pays des grenouilles. C'est chill. ("Dunno, but it's a picture of me in frog-land. It's chill.")

On the phone, Slim and I are discussing the best way to force the guy out of Slim's account and into his own, where Slim can talk to him. Slim had used his secondary address to add the hacker's true email, and was waiting to ambush him for explanations. I assure him I've got it covered, and carefully lay out bait with a few well-placed lies.

Me: Hey, t'as essayé de me adder? ("Hey, you tried to add me?")
Hack: non? ("No?")

He's lying, and I know it, but if he fakes it, then I choose to play into his hand.

Hack: ki ta adder ("Who added you?")
Hack: c kel msn ("What's the MSN address?")
Me: Je sais plus, je connaissais fuckall l'adresse, mais là yé offline. ("I dunno, I didn't recognize it, but right now he's offline.")
Me: Je crois...... ("I think......")
Hack: lol ouais je ment je tes adder ("Yeah, I lied, I added you.")
Hack: tas laire sociable faque ("You seem sociable, so.")
Me: Ah merci. Mais là tant qu'à yêtre, j'peux tu juste avoir ton screenname à c't'adresse là? Ça me disturbe quand c'est juste l'adresse courriel qui est affichée. D: ("Ah, thanks. But since we're at it, could I just have your screenname for that address? It disturbs me when it's just the email displayed.")

I'm forcing the guy to log in, and I cross my fingers in the hopes that it'll work and he'll fall for the ploy.

On the phone, a few seconds pass, and Slim says, "He's in! I've got him!"

But the hacker hasn't left Slim's true email account. So we presume he's got two Messengers running tandem. Still, I gloat.

Me: Ahah, moi aussi je mens. ("Ahah, I lied too.")
Me: Je t'ai pas addé. ("I didn't add you.")
Me: J'suis sociable, pas stupide. :P ("I'm sociable, not stupid.")
Hack: lotre ma adder en tuka ("The other guy added me, in any case.")

And I give him at taste of his own medicine.

Me: Qui ça? ("Whom?")
Hack: slim
Me: Sérieux?? LOL Comment ya fait??n ("Seriously?? LOL How did he do it??")
Hack: ben tu ya surement donner duh ("Well, you obviously gave it to him, duh.")
Me: ...???? Non, fuckall!
Hack: lfmao
Me: C'est ça qui me fait rire!!!!! Yo, c'est chill. Attends, je l'appelle. ("That's what makes me laugh! Yo, that's chill. Wait, I'm calling him.")
Me: Hahaha he likes you!!!
Hack: wutt
Me: Wow, sérieux, c'est trop drôle cette situation. Si on m'avait dit que je jaserais avec le hacker du compte d'un de mes amis pis que ça serait aussi le fun... lol!!!! ("Wow, seriously, this situation is too funny. If someone had told me that I'd be chatting with the hacker of one of my friends' accounts and that it'd be this fun... lol!")
Hack: rofl yep
Me: Non, mais Slim je crois qu'yé impressionné. ("No, but I think Slim's impressed.")
Hack: lol
Me: Yé genre, wtf c'est nice ("He's like, wtf it's nice.")

This is a lie.

Hack: heinnnn ("Huuuuh?")
Me: Quoi? Ça te surprend? ("What, you're surprised?")
Hack: un peu lol ("A little, lol")
Me: Ah. :P
Hack: i didnt done dat before and its fun
Me: Ben c'est quand même cool, là. Genre, ça doit pas arriver souvent que tu te fais sérénader avec des chansons de Disney. ("Well, it's pretty cool, there. Like, it mustn't happen often that you get serenaded with Disney songs.")
Hack: mouin.. jesaye deviter le plus souvent posssible ("Yeah, I avoid that as often as possible.")
Me: Pourquoi? Je croyais qu'on était d'accord que Disney, yé chill. ("Why? I thought we agreed Disney was chill.")
Hack: ouinouin okok
Me: Meeeerci. Là fait moi pas te le rappeler une autre fois. ("Thaaaaaank you. Now don't make me remind you another time.")
Hack: lol
Me: "Look at this stuff, isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think my collection's complete? Wouldn't you think I'm the girl, the girl who has everything?"
Me: Ah la petite sirène... ("Ah, the Little Mermaid.")
Hack: asti lol
Me: Je connais aussi la Belle et la Bête en anglais ET en français. ("I also know the Beauty and the Beast in English AND French.")
Me: Je peux te faire un comparatif, si tu veux. ("I can give you a comparison, if you want.")
Hack: ok ouin ("Okay, yeah.")
Me: "Histoire éternelle... qu'on ne croit jamais! De deux inconnus qu'un geste imprévu rapproche en secret... Et soudain se pose sur leurs coeurs en fête un papillon rose, un rien pas grand-chose, une fleur offerte!" ("Eternal story... which we never believe! Of two strangers that an unexpected gesture brought together in secret... And suddenly lands on their joyful hearts a pink butterfly, a litte nothing, an offered flower!")
Hack: oh sh- remember dat
Me: "Tale as old as time, true as it can be... Barely even friends, then somebody bends unexpectedly. Just a little change, small to say the least, both a little scared, neither one prepared, beauty and the beast!" etc.
Me: J'adore celui-là. C'est mon préféré! :D ("I love that one. It's my favourite!")
Hack: hayoye ("Damn.")
Me: Hihi ("Heehee")
Hack: non mais ta kel age ("Wow, but how old are you?")
Me: Eh bien, mon jeune chenapan, il se trouve que je suis plus âgée que toi. ("Well, my young rascal, it so happens that I'm older than you.")
Hack: hooo
Me: Oui oui!
Hack: ok bin je figure ke tas genre 20 kelkechose ("Okay, well I figure you're like twenty or something.")
Me: Oui, exactement. J'ai vingt-sept ans et j'attends mon premier enfant. ("Yes, exactly. I'm twenty-seven and I'm expecting my first child.")
Me: Je me suis replongée dans Disney pour mieux accueillir l'enfant en gestation. ("I re-immersed myself into Disney to better welcome the gestating infant.")
Hack: holy shit ta 27 ans ("Holy shit you're twenty-seven!")
Hack: OLOLOLOLOLOL
Hack: jaurais tout vue ("I'll have seen everything.")
Me: Oui, sauf un homme qui mange sa propre tête. ("Yes, except a man eating his own head.")
Hack: heh
Me: Non, en fait, t'as pas vu les nombreux films pornos dans lesquels j'ai tourné. ("No, actually, you didn't see the numerous porn films in which I acted.")
Me: Mais c'est compréhensible, t'as pas encore l'âge. ("But that's understandable, you're not old enough yet.")
Hack: r u kidding me?
Me: Non.
Hack: heu ("Huh.")
Me: Pourquoi je me dégraderais? Je fais pas des blagues sur ce genre de chose. J'avais besoin d'argent. ("Why would I debase myself? I don't do jokes about this kind of thing. I needed money.")
Hack: c koi sa sti tu me chante des chansons de disney pis la tu me dit ke ta jouer dans plein de films porn ("What the fuck is that? You sing me Disney songs and then you tell me you played in plenty of porn films.")
Me: Quoi, parce qu'une actrice porno peut pas être UN PEU normale? ("What, 'cause a porn actress can't be a LITTLE normal?")
Hack: mais jen doute pas... ("But I don't doubt it...")
Hack: bin je sais pas la ("Well, I don't know.")
Hack: dans kel films lol ("Which movies?")

Here I asked Slim for suggestions. He didn't even hesitate.

Me: Collégienne en chaleur 8 ("College Girl in Heat 8")
Me: Mais tu risques pas de le trouver sur Google; c'était vraiment amateur comme prod. ("But you probably won't find it on Google; it was really an amateur prod.")
Hack: yuk
Me: Ben oui, pourquoi tu penses que j'suis enceinte à c't'heure? ("Well, yeah, why do you think I'm pregnant now?")
Hack: pense tu vraiment jva croire sa ("Do you really think I'd believe that?")
Me: Check, je mentirais pas, ok? Quand je mens, je le dis. Preuve à l'appui plus haut. J'suis pas capable de garder mon mensonge très longtemps. ("Look, I wouldn't lie, okay? When I lie, I say so. Proof above. I can't keep a lie very long.")
Me: Je sais pas, ça doit être ma mère qui me l'a appris. ("I dunno, must have been my mother who taught me.")
Me: Toi, ta mère a t'a jamais dit de pas mentir? ("Didn't your mother ever teach you not to lie?")

Yeah, that was deliberate.

Hack: non
Hack: arete de me troller komme une fagget ("Stop trolling me like a faggot.")
Me: Quoi, maintenant tu veux plus me parler? C'est comique, quand même. Ça te dérangeait pas que je chante des chansons de Disney? Je peux continuer, si tu veux. ("What, now you don't want to speak to me? That's amusing. It didn't bother you that I sang Disney songs? I can keep going if you want.")
Hack: nah its ok
Me: Bon, alors, je vais continuer à parler. ("Well, then, I'll keep talking.")
Me: Comme l'autre jour, j'ai vu un écureuil ninja. ("Like, the other day, I saw a ninja squirrel.") No joke.

Seriously, there's no joke here.

Hack: sti ("Fuck.")
Me: Ya sérieusement évité de se faire écraser par le train en sautant un double-backflip par dessus les rails. C'était fucking intense!! ("He seriously avoided getting crushed by the train by doing a double backflip over the rails. It was fucking intense!!")
Me: Alors je l'ai surnommé l'écureuil ninja. ("So I nicknamed it the ninja squirrel.")
Hack: shit ta 27 and pis tes demem jen revien po lol ("Shit, you're twenty-seven and you're this way; I can't believe it.")
Me: Ah, oui, tsé quand j'ai dit que j'étais pas capable de garder un mensonge très longtemps? ("Oh, yeah, you know when I said I can't keep a lie very long?")
Me: Ben j'ai passé ma limite: j'ai pas vingt-sept. ("Well, I passed my limit: I'm not twenty-seven.")
Me: En fait j'ai quinze. ("In fact, I'm fifteen.")
Hack: wahwahwah
Me: Non, je crois que je file pour avoir vingt-trois. ("No, I think I'm up for being twenty-three.")
Hack: sa parasait ("It showed.")
Me: Je sais pas. J'arrive pas à me décider. ("I don't know. I can't make up my mind.")
Hack: non la ta 15 pi c'est vrai ("No, you're fifteen, and this time it's true.")
Me: Ok, alors, on va y aller pour quinze. ("Okay, fine, so we'll go for fifteen.")
Me: Bon. Alors qu'est-ce que je faisais quand j'avais quinze ans, déjà? ("So. What did I do back when I was fifteen, again?")
Me: Est-ce que c'était l'âge des animés japonais? Je m'en rappelle plus. ("Was it the age of japanese anime? I don't remember anymore.")
Hack: hayoye tu metourdis ("Damn, you're dizzying me.")
Me: J'pense qu'à cet âge-là je mangeais beaucoup de nutella. ("I think at that age I ate a lot of nutella.")
Hack: ROFL
Me: J'avais des angoisses intenses. ("I had intense anxiety attacks.")
Hack: hein ("Huh?")
Me: Pis le chocolat, tu savais que ça encourageait la libération d'endorphines qui sont, en fait, l'hormone du plaisir? Ça fait que ça me relaxait. ("And the chocolate, you know it encouraged the release of endorphins, which are, in fact, pleasure hormones? So it relaxed me.")
Me: C'était très thérapeutique. ("It was very therapeutical.")
Hack: ah ouin cool ("Oh yeah, cool.")
Me: Ouais, sérieux. ("Yeah, seriously.")
Me: C'est pour ça que le chocolat est offert aux femmes de nos jours; ça les met de meilleure humeur pour le sexe. ("That's why chocolate is offered to women these days; it puts them in a better mood for sex.")
Me: Dans Collégienne 8 je mimais l'orgasme en mangeant du chocolat de la main de mon sexy prof de gym. ("In College Girl 8 I mimed an orgasm by eating chocolate out of my sexy gym teacher's hand.")
Hack: oh sh-
Me: Ouais, cette scène là était vraiment nice. J'ai eu des bons commentaires à son sujet. ("Yeah, that scene was really nice. I got many good comments about it.")

As I write this, I'm laughing to tears on the phone with Slim, and Slim can't help but chuckle, in spite of the shitty situation.

Me: Surtout au sujet du plan en contre-plongée où on voit que je porte pas de culotte sous ma jupe. ("Especially the tilt-up where you see I'm not wearing panties under my skirt.")
Hack: speak donc alemend ("Speak German.")

What? I'm confused, but I gamely improvise.

Me: Das is schmeterling! Das isten grossenmuter.
Me: Yo, chuis surprise. ("Yo, I'm surprised.")
Me: Comment t'as deviné que mon père était allemand?? ("How did you guess my father was German??")

Another lie, not that anyone cares by now. I'm obviously confusing him.

Hack: wierp op dat jij Duits wegens jouw achternaam sprak. ^^
Hack: jouw achternaam

I don't know German, so there's no way for me to decide or react to what he wrote.

Me: ouain, ok, t'es meilleur que moi. ("Yeah, okay, you're better than me.")
Hack: a merde ("Ah, shit.")
Me: Bof, c'est pas de ma faute. ("Bah, it's not my fault.")
Me: J'ai pas vraiment eu à l'apprendre. ("I didn't really need to learn it.")
Hack: cest koi le rapport de la cravate ("What the deal with the neck tie?")
Me: Yen a pas, dude.....? La cravate a été inventée par les Croates. ("There's none, dude...? Neck ties were invented by Croatians.")
Hack: lol
Me: T'as pas écouté Vrak TV dans le temps qu'yavait des capsules éducatives? ("Didn't you watch Vrak-TV back in the days of educative breaks?")
Me: Ou c'était avant ton temps? ("Or was it before your time?")
Hack: non avant cetais canalfamille ("No, before Vrak-TV there was the Family Channel.")
Hack: dumb
Me: Oui, je m'en rappelle! Moi j'aimais les zigotos. ("Yeah, I remember! I loved the Weirdos.")
Me: C'était trop nice comme émission! ("It was too nice, as a show!")
Hack: les bananes enpijamas ("Bananas in Pyjamas.")
Me: Booof c'était un peu con. J'aimais mieux voir des kids se foutre tout entiers dans une mare de glu. ("Bah, it was a little stupid. I preferred to watch kids throw themselves whole into a pond of slime.")
Hack: AH OUIN SA ("OH YEAH, THAT!")
Me: Sérieux!!!!
Hack: stai koi donc le nom ("What was the name...?")
Me: Les zigotos, j'te dis. ("The Weirdos, I tell you.")
Me: C'était la mare à la grenouille. ("The slime was the Frog Pond.")
Hack: avec ala marmite? ("With the cauldron?")
Me: Oui.
Hack: ah ouin sti sa sa torchai ("Hell yeah, damn, that owned.")
Me: Je sais. Moi j'écoutais ça religieusement. ("I know. I watched it religiously.")
Hack: ouin ("Yeah.")
Hack: ou sinon chaire de poule ("That, or Goosebumps.")
Me: Yo, ça, ça me faisait peur. ("Yo, that scared me.")
Hack: ouin en sal ("Yeah, honestly.")
Me: J'aimais pas les trucs d'horreur, pis j'aime toujours pas ça. ("I didn't like horror shows, and I still don't.")
Hack: same
Me: Moi j'ai eu des cauchemars intenses à propos de l'épisode avec le matelas plein de vers de terres. ("I had intense nightmares because of the episode with the mattress full of worms.")
Hack: ah ouin le pere ki devien vegetale jmen rapel ("Oh, yeah, the dad who turns plant, I remember it.")
Me: Ouais, ça me faisait peur. ("Yeah, that scared me.")
Hack: ou sinon les epouvantaille ("Or the scarecrows.")
Me: Je sais plus c'est lequel. Mais celui du parc d'attraction possédé ça me faisait vraiment badtripper. ("I don't remember that one. But the one with the possessed funpark really gave me a bad trip.")
Hack: ouin sa me dit dekoi ("Yeah, that sounds familiar...")
Me: Yavais comme trois épisodes de suite sur ce même parc-là, genre. J'me rappelle plus des détails, mais ça me foutait la chienne que le monde pouvait plus sortir. ("There were like three follow-up episodes for that same park. I don't remember the details, but it gave me the creeps that nobody could get out.")
Hack: AH OUI SAAAA ("OH YEAH THAAAT!")
Hack: avec la ptite vieille ("With the little old lady.")
Me: OUI EXACTEMENT
Hack: pis la piscine avec dla boucanne ("And the pool with the smoke?")
Me: Oui, mais à moment donné yavait pas un boutte où y se faisaient poursuivre par des zombie, genre? Pis là la famille captive DEVIENT ZOMBIE?? Yo j'ai la chienne des zombies. ("Yes, but then at one point wasn't there a part where they were getting pursued by zombies? And then the captive family BECOMES ZOMBIE? Yo, zombies scare me.")
Hack: ahahah
Me: Mais j'aime Resident Evil. ("But I like Resident Evil.")
Hack: jai un guide contre les zombie en pdf ("I have a PDF guide against zombies.")
Me: SWEET
Me: Tu l'as trouvé où? ("Where did you find it?")
Hack: men rapel plus c mon ami ki me la sent ("I don't remember, it's my friend who sent it to me.")
Me: Ah, dommage. ("Ah, shame.")
Hack: bin je lai encore si tu veu ke je te le send ("Well, I still have it. If you want it I can send it to you.")

Like I'm dumb enough to say yes?

Me: Je sais pas, j'ai des problèmes recently avec mes transfers de fichiers. ("I dunno, I have problems recently with file transfers.")
Me: Sur MSN, je veux dire. ("In MSN, I mean.")
Hack: ok debor ("Okay, then.")
Me: J'vais sûrement comme, upgrader ma version. Mais j'ai jamais le temps. ("I'll probably, like, upgrade my version. But I never have the time.")
Hack: mouin ("Yeah.")
Me: Ah, fuck MSN. Si c'était pas des conversations drôles qui m'arrivent occasionnellement. Comme aujourd'hui. ("If it weren't for the funny conversations that occasionally happen, like today...")
Hack: j'aime mieu skype ("I prefer Skype.")
Me: ... Me semble que c'est MSN que t'utilises, là? ("Isn't MSN what you're using right now?")
Hack: oui cest sa mais jaime mieu skype. skype c po des accounts hotmail ("Yeah, that's right, but I prefer Skype. Skype isn't Hotmail addresses.")
Me: Ben c'est ça que je me disais. ("That's what I figured.")
Me: Anywayz, moi je vais y aller. Je travaille demain. ("Anywayz, I'll be off. I work tomorrow.")
Hack: fukken same
Me: Yeah. So peut-être qu'on se reparle lol! ("So maybe we'll talk again!")
Hack: surement ("Probably.")
Me: Chill chill.
Hack: kbai
Me: kbye

I logged off, and on the phone, Slim suddenly says, "CM! The guy thinks you're cool!"

"Really?" I laugh, and turn my computer off. Slim is reading the hacker's comments about me out loud.

" 'She's chill, your friend.' Uh... I replied with 'I know, man' and a wink." He types as he speaks, " 'She... is... freaking... awesome...' "

I laugh. Slim amuses me. "Well, look, I think I'll really be going to sleep, so--"

"Wait! OH MY GOD."

"What??"

Slim's voice is in shock. "He just gave me the new password. He gave up my address. ... He says it's only because we're both really cool."

So. What do you know. Slim got his address back, and we both went to bed, confused, amused, and pleased.

Friday night, though, was another story.

We finished our shift around ten, and my brother, his girlfriend, Slim and I were to head on up to Moe's for a night of tomfoolery.

Yeah, sure, my brother is underage, but nobody cares.

That said, Slim owed me money, so he decided he'd pay me back by sharing a pitcher with me. Except he owed me 15$, and since the pitchers cost 11$, he still owed me 4$, which is incidentally the cost of one tequila shot.

And Liz paid me a second tequila shot.

So after three glasses of beer and two tequila shots, Slim and I were both happily (REALLY happily) drunk. But (this part is hazy, so forgive me if it's weird) at some point Slim, Liz, Iva and Maria left me alone inside. Like, they just told me to wait for them right there and walked outside (I couldn't follow because I still had half a glass in my hand).

So I finished the glass, left it on a counter, and walked out, some fifteen minutes later, feeling dejected and alone.

I couldn't find them,and I was so drunk that I could hardly walk straight, let alone support my own weight. So I crumbled onto a sidewalk border and just tried to reason with myself, berating myself for looking like the slobs I always figured I'd never, EVER be.

I don't know how much time passed, but at some point Liz ran towards me. At some point I'd started tearing (yeah, I don't even know why), and she saw me, and when I saw Slim sprint towards me and reach out both hands to grab mine, I don't know. I started sobbing. I mean, seriously. This guy was SPRINTING TOWARDS ME because he was worried.

So I freak out.

And I mean, I really freaked out. Like, intensely. I had no spine left, I was rolling on the ground, crying and having trouble to breathe.

Lyx: Yeowch.

Liz was unable to do anything, I think, because one minute she was there, and the next she was gone, and in her place was Slim's lap.

So I tried not to fall face forward into that.

But he was so sweet, Lyx, I feel even more horrible. He was soothing, telling me it was okay, and holding my shoulders as I freaked out ("What's going on with me? What's wrong with me??"). He even took out his cell phone and put on my favourite song to make me smile.

Lyx: (He's a better friend than me; I probably would have just slapped you and told you to snap out of it.)

(I would have deserved it. I'm not done telling you about his kindness, so brace yourself.)

I was so touched that I stopped sobbing and just began to cry softly. But I wasn't as scared anymore. It was like I was fighting a bad trip. He let me cry against his shoulder for a while, then said, firmly, "We're going for a walk."

I couldn't stand. He pulled me to my feet and held my hand and shoulder as we walked. I was apologizing the whole time. I said, "I'm SO SORRY Slim EVERYTIME I ruin your evenings! I'm so sorry!!"

And instead of saying, "Whatever" or "I'm getting used to it," as he should have, he said, "I don't mind, CM. Just keep walking. Breathe in. Stop crying. What would Bertrand say?"

Bertrand is our Staples manager.

Which, of course, made me laugh.

I said, "But you always end up taking care of me! That sucks! I'm sorry I swear to god I didn't mean to!"

And he said, "It's alright. I have a hero complex. I not only need to, but I also ENJOY helping damsels in distress. Here, sit."

He made me lean against a cement block, and held me upstraight because I kept crumbling under my own weight.

"No, CM, no falling. You are not allowed to let go of me, okay? You MUST HOLD ON TO ME AT ALL TIMES."

I pulled him forward and said, "Slim, why are you doing this?"

By now he was smiling. "What? Helping you? I'm a good friend. It's what I do."

"But you don't have to. I don't deserve it. When have I helped you this way?"

He didn't reply to that. He just said, "I have No More Heroes songs on my cell! Wanna hear it?"

I said, "I love you."

He didn't reply. I don't know if he heard me. I didn't say it very loud.

Lyx: Wait. Back up. Did you say it in such a way that it could be interpreted to be of different meanings?

No.

Lyx: Were you like, "I love you, man" or was it like "I loveith thou"

I said, clearly, "I love you."

Or it was clear to me. But I was so drunk, I don't think he heard me. Except... he's said "I love you" to me a couple of times now. Always in teasing contexts, like, when he insults me and I glare at him, he blows a kiss and says, 'I love you' fondly. So I don't know. Maybe he didn't get it.

I wanted to scream it, but I felt so sick and weak that I couldn't.

So I choked back this frustration that just swelled in me and walked away, towards the park where we always hang out.

He said, "Where are you going? Don't leave. You're in no state to walk."

I wanted to go into the park, but he pulled me back and said, "No park tonight, CM. It's WAY too wet. It just rained."

I was crying again. I pulled away and said, "I thought you were supposed to meet Anthony for food."

He frowned and said, "So?"

"So, shouldn't you get going?"

"And leave you here? Are you stupid?"

"I'm fine."

"Like hell."

"I'm okay, Slim. Please, I've already ruined your night enough, you don't have to stay."

He said, "I'm not going anywhere."

"But Anthony's waiting for--"

"FUCK ANTHONY, dammit!"

I refused to look at him. I just wandered towards the bleachers. He followed me. I said, "This is unfair."

He asked, "What's unfair?"

"That you're so kind to me. For no reason."

"I'm not that nice. I'm just being a good person."

"You don't realise, do you?"

"What?"

"How amazing you are. How much you deserve. I've never met a man as wonderful as you."

Lyx: And?

A long silence, I think, then I said, "I always wonder if I'm going to be one of those people who look back on things and say, 'I should've' instead of 'I shouldn't have'.

He asked me what I meant.

I said, "I'm afraid of regrets."

"What kind?"

"Not telling someone that I love him."

"You're in love?"

I laughed. "Yes, I am."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"I don't know. You never told me anything before."

I looked at him and leaned in. He was sitting on the bleacher under mine and leaning against mine with his face turned up to me and looking so wonderful. I leaned in, and looked him in the eyes. It's one of the only things I remember clearly.

I don't know if we said anything, but I knew, in my gut, that I wouldn't be able to do it.

Lyx: Guh!

And not because it would have felt wrong, or anything, but I was so drunk that he would either laugh it off or I'd barf in his mouth or something.

Basically, he took care of me and the next morning, he told me that I should not feel bad about the way I was the night before, that if it was so important to me, he'd say he forgives me, even though there's nothing to forgive and that he wanted me to laugh about it, not feel ashamed.

And now I'm just depressed about my lack of gut, and my stupid drunkeness. Never again. EVER.

Because I have weird bruises on my knees now from last Friday that I DO NOT RECALL GETTING.

Except, of course, that I woke up on Monday morning with the unexpected distinct memory of having a HUGE CLOSE-UP of Slim's boxers. The ones with the adjectives... That he was, I believe, wearing Friday night.

I know. Weird bruises on my knees? A surprisingly vivid image of Slim's jeans-less crotch? Yeah, I was kind of freaking out.

I asked him, "Slim."

He looked up from the camera we were practicing on with Gabriel, Jeremy and Patricia (the latter two are our movie-making teammates this session, and they're really cool), and asked, deadpan, "What."

"I had this horrible recollection."

"Be specific."

"Friday night."

Here, Gabriel perks up. He works at Moe's and heard plenty of hilarious stories about Friday. Like how Maria got driven home by one of the doormen, and how AA barfed in the parking lot, and how Ban woke up in the bed of a girl he didn't know at all (she'd taken pity on him the night before because he didn't have a way home, but nothing happened).

"What about it?"

"Do you, um... remember anything?"

"Yeah. But it's hazy. I was so drunk."

"And you drove anyway." This time, I'm deadpan.

"Yeah, whatever, I was sober by then. What do you want to know?"

"I had this sort of memory of being on my knees in the grass behind Moe's and you coming up to me without pants."

At this, Jeremy and Patricia pause, turning to look at my scared face and Slim's impassive one.

"Yeah, when I went for a whizz," Slim says. "I dunno. I was so drunk I thought it'd be funny after that if I walked around with my jeans around my ankles. And then I came up to you and gloated."

"Did I grab your foot?"

"Yeah, weirdo. Of all places for you to put your hands when a guy comes up to you with his junk hanging out."

I freak out. "YOU HAD YOUR DICK IN MY FACE?"

Here, Slim bursts out laughing. "NO! Hahahahaha gotcha. Come on, I have more taste than that. But yeah, you commented on my boxers―"

"The adjectives."

"The adjectives, yeah."

"I think you said something about me knowing too much of your underwear."

"I might've. I was drunk too, but I handle my alcohol better than you."

Sad but true.

I'll spare you the details of my week, but in all, I haven't slept a full night since Sunday night. I wake up at 6:45AM, arrive downtown at 8:30AM and leave it at 10:00PM at night, reaching home at 11:15PM. During the whole time, I'm either in class or filming. And sometimes I even skip meals, I'm so busy.

Slim, Gabriel and I are so exhausted that our nerves are weakening and making us far more irritable than usual. Slim, in particular, has taken these past two days to saying rather hurtful things to me, to the point where, last night (Tuesday), I had to retreat into the side-room to calm my nerves and steady my anger and hurt before going back to filming.

I haven't forgiven him for it yet. I'd been teasing him, as usual, and he replied with his usual insult, to which I tisked and said, "You shouldn't talk like that to your best friend."

He snorted. "That's pure chance, you know. You're only my best friend because Dague isn't around as much as you. If he were there, I'm sorry, but..."

The stab was unexpected. I covered it up hastily by saying, "Bah, you don't deserve me."

And he looked up from Jeremy's plans, at me, with a smirk and said, "That's not what you were saying Friday night."

In a flash, I recall my panic attack, my crying like a baby and repeating 'I don't deserve a friend like you! I don't deserve to be treated so kindly by you.'

I was so shocked and hurt by the memory he ridiculed by that statement, that cruel way of humiliating me, I actually felt as though he'd punched the air out of my lungs. I glared at him and said, coldly, "That was out of line." He laughed, not realising that I was serious. I stared at him some more and added, "Slim, that was―"

"I owned you."

"You know what, fuck you."

"Are you leaving? Have a nice evening!"

I was actually walking out the door. "I am not talking to you anymore. That was exceptionally cruel, even for you."

"Okay, good. See ya."

I want to reply, but he's still laughing. I leave the room and try to take calming breaths. My eyes are stinging. My heart is beating miles an hour. I'm flushed with rage and hurt.

I haven't forgotten. Today, he still wasn't relenting. I refused to speak to him for an hour, after which Gabriel took care of making us speak, although I refused to talk anything but business with him, until ten PM rolled around and we were done gathering the equipment.

We were arguing again, and he was going to win until I said, "You know, you really did hurt me last night."

"What? What did I say?"

"About―"

"Oh, damn, about Dague? Hahaha that was a good one."

I'm serious. "I don't mind exchanging insults, Slim, but that one actually stung. You really hurt me yesterday."

"You know it was just an insult like all the others."

"No, it wasn't. I don't care, I was hurt. Don't ever say things like that again. You attacked something that means too much to me. To use that weakness is not fair. It's cruel."

He stopped insulting me from that moment on.

We'll see if he remembers, for tomorrow, and Friday... and Saturday and Sunday when the filming continues.

Love,
CM

P.S. Have received awards for UFOs! Will upload them when sleep doesn't evade me. Will also remember to post one last fanfiction oneshot as thanks for your votes.

Friday, September 05, 2008

Correspondence

So Slim got the job. I wasn't surprised, really. The moment he was introduced he made a good impression, and I assume he must have been a magnificent man to interview because he was hired after a single one (my brother had three, and I had two). He was hired yesterday, on the spot, basically.

After Slim left, Christian, who, in the end, hadn't been the one to interview him (rather the man in charge of the electronics section), looked at me and asked, lightly, "So, is he your boyfriend?"

I laughed, ignoring the curious looks from the other employees ―they're all super-friendly, but they have a gift for staring a person down― and said, "Oh, no, we're just really good friends."

"Then why are your cheeks so red?"

I answered the truth: "Because it's stifling hot in here."

At this, all the other employees agreed, and I was off the hook. I'd promised Slim fondly (in front of them, no less) that I would meet him on MSN later that night, after my shift.

What I didn't expect was for my shift to finish freaking late because of the Back to School rush, which made us stay in the store until ungodly hours. On top of that, my mother picked my brother and I up, and agreed to take Lord Llama downtown for a concert at the TNT nightclub, because one of the bands playing were personal acquaintances. So I came home at quarter to midnight.

Obviously, Slim was no longer online. He started work early this morning, and would want the sleep.

Feeling terrible, I sent him an email:

From: CM
To: Slim
Subject: Sorry!

I finished freaking late tonight; I didn't expect it. Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow at work. My shift is 12h-21h, so we'll probably overlap. Hope you enjoy your first few hours without me. :p

But really, I'm sorry, we finished at quarter to eleven. It was stupid. I'd have textedyou but you don't have a working cell phone plan. So blah. I'm not so sorry after all.

No, seriously, you need a good mobile plan, because this simply isn't livable. No-t liva-ble.


He didn't reply that night, obviously, but I hoped he'd at least get the message before going to work.

Apparently not. I came in this morning and he was already in his uniform, answering a customer's questions about some piece of hardware. I could tell he was WAY more interested in this than in men's fashion like back at Sears, so I was happy. I didn't bug him, until we came face to face.

And he reproached, "Hey, I waited for you last night. But you never came!"

So I defended myself: "I finished at eleven and got home forty five minutes later! I sent an email of apology, okay?"

He seemed doubtful. I assured him it was true. He relented.

And we went back to our usual banter throughout the day, delighting, apparently, the customers and employees.

"You're a terrible employee," he suddenly called out to me, a short time before his shift was over, "and as the newest manager, I am firing you!"

I turned a cynical eye on him, and he leaned on the shelf to gaze down at me with a smirk.

"I was just promoted."

"You still don't know where the duo-tangs are."

"Err..."

"Aisle 1, and you're lame."

"Whatever, I'm like, a six-hours-old employee! But as manager, I order you to pack your stuff and leave."

"No."

"No?"

"No." I repeat.

"I'll punch you."

"Like hell. I'll knife you."

"No you won't."

"But I could!" I say, showing him my tiny Xacto retractable knife, the one I use to open boxes. He pretended to be terrified and to leave. This went on until he left, and by then I just had fun with the other employees. I was glad, because there was one of them I don't like, and he wasn't there today.

You see, there's this employee I'll call Zack, who's an even more recent addition to the Staples team than I am. That's roughly a week. He's tall, black, and ―unlike the other black men employed by the store, whom are totally chill to hang out with― a truly scary weirdo. I suspect he's shown up at work stone more than once; and he seems to find my body absolutely touch-worthy.

If you see what I mean.

Now, I don't mind the occasional friendly beat on the arm, or the shoulder pat, or whatnot.

But please. This guy takes 'accidental brushing up' to a whole new level. He also pinches me teasingly so hard that I once bruised, and ruffles my hair so that I have to fix it every fifteen minutes.

"I should pretend to be gay," Slim had said, annoyed by the description of the man's antics, "and give him a taste of his own medicine."

"What, you'd rub up against him and all?" I'd asked, amused.

Slim had laughed. "Yeah, it'd probably teach him a lesson. It's that or―"

At this, we both sing-songed at the same time: "We kill him!" causing us to start laughing cheerfully, as we do when we realise the awkwardness of guessing the end of each other's sentences.

Anyhow. I came home after my early-ending shift, and, though it was only ten, did not see Slim online. I had told him to be on until midnight at least, to give me a chance, but he wasn't.

Although he HAD replied to my email.

From: Slim
To: CM
Subject: Re: Sorry!

YOU BITCH FROM HELL, IT'S NOW THAT YOU TELL ME, GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA TO WHICH EXTENT I PUT SUBLIME EFFORTS IN WAITING FOR YOU!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!! I BANISH YOU FROM MY CIRCLE OF FRIENDS ARRARARARARRARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

...Never will you be able to take me seriously.

bisouS xox


And by the way, 'bisou' means 'kiss'. And adding an 's' in French indicates the plural.

Yeah, I know, I nearly suffered cardiac arrest, considering that, every time before, I'd been the one to initiate kisses, and he always mocked them, adding a ridiculous 'MWAH' to them, as though he wasn't sure how to take them.

I was stunned.

So I replied:

From: CM
To: Slim
Subject: Re:Re: Sorry!

You're a dirty bitch yourself to not be online TONIGHT, YOU EVIL SON-OF-A-BITCH. I SPEND A FULL ASSHOLISH DAY (BECAUSE YOU WERE LESS THAN FORTY METRES AWAY AT WORK ALL THE TIME DURING MOST OF MY SHIFT), WHICH, FOR ONCE, FINISHES AT A REASONABLE HOUR, AND YOU'RE NOT EVEN THERE. AH WELL, FUCK, WE'LL SEE WHICH OF US MAKES THE MOST EFFORTS IN THIS RELATIONSHIP (???!!!)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You're right. I don't take either of us seriously.

I work noon to five tomorrow. You're invited to supper at our place too, if you want. See you then.


And we'll see, I guess?

Love,
CM

P.S. Those kissing lips are not a mistake, by the way. I totally put that in. Hah!

Wednesday, September 03, 2008

University Rocks!

Yours truly has begun taking classes at what some call "institutions of higher learning". I prefer to refer to such an institution as Happy Happy Land.

Because for once, I feel like I'm actually learning something (as opposed to college, which was a massive waste of my time).

I started yesterday. I had class in the afternoon, at two, but to actually GET there, I have to leave around noon. The bus leaves at my street corner around 12:10, and goes down to the nearest boulevard where I have to get off and grab a 12:20 bus that heads straight to the train station, where I climb aboard the 13:10 train, arriving at the Central station roughly at 13:35, at which point I walk the underground city until the metro station, climbing aboard the orange line heading to Montmorency, and step off at Berri-UQAM, at which point I am virtually inside the university (except in its deep bowels, so I have to climb a few stairs).

I had pretty much planned all this out the night before, preparing myself mentally for it, and also congratulating myself for being so organized.

So when Slim sparked up a conversation online, I was kind of surprised.

Slim: Hoy, you there?
Me: Yep. How are you?
Slim: Good. 'n' you?
Me: You did good, choosing not to go to the PiknicElectronik today.

Because Drew, Fred and Ban had dragged me to this outdoor rave where they play trance music and get stoned.

I didn't know about the stoner part, nor did I suspect my gaydar would freak out so much the moment I stepped onto the premises. But seriously, the ratio of straight to gay people there was of 1 to 3, and there was so much cigarette and drug smoke I could hardly breathe. Not to mention the horrifying sight of half-naked people dancing, their jiggling tans scaring the living daylights out of me.

I love Montreal, really. But sometimes it scares me.

Me: It was crap. I'll tell you more later on, in person. Blegh.
Me: Other than the pot-smelling clothes, though, I'm good.
Slim: lol!
Slim: Yeah, I was just wondering if you wanted a lift to go to the train station tomorrow.

!!!

Me: Um, well, I'd be a dumbass to say no, so I'll say 'sure'. I just hope you don't consider it an obligation.
Slim: Don't worry.

It's a detour to fetch me, so he's being really nice!

And so we coordinated our schedules and agreed that he'd meet me at 12:30 the next day (yesterday, basically), so we'd have time to take the train.

The ride over was uneventful, except we were both in splendid moods and excited to start school again. He said that his main preoccupation these days was to get another job. Leftover daycamp money, he claims, doesn't pay the car as well as he had hoped, and he needs a steadier income, especially now that the car is his full responsibility (because his sister got her own car).

I laughingly suggested he get a job at Staples with me, as we had back in the day when we worked at Sears. He commented that, for all the good I say of it, it's almost a tempting idea.

Yeah, I know. I said, "Whoa, sweetheart, think carefully. We have the SAME university schedule. We'd have the SAME availability schedule. We'd work the SAME shifts. We'd see each other ALL THE TIME. Won't you get sick of seeing me?"

Because as much as I love the guy, and I'm sure he loves me (though not the same way... that I know of), I'm not dupe enough to believe we'll always be happy to see each other, especially if, on top of spending twelve hours a day together, four days a week, at school, we see each other every other waking hour at work (and that's not counting all the parties we're invited to).

"Well, it's normal that we might get a little tired of one another," Slim concedes a little morosely. "But I need a job, and besides, even if I do get sick of you, it's not like you don't get sick of me sometimes." I'm about to say that no, I don't really, but he cuts me off before a sound can escape me, and his eyes crinkle as he says, "Don't say anything."

Well, alright. I can't mistake the smile in his eyes. "Okay, whatever. I'm actually so sick of you I'd kick you in front of an oncoming train."

He gives me a doubting smirk. "We both know you wouldn't."

We argued back and forth like this until we reached our class. By this time we had agreed that I'd slip a word in to my manager about him, to see if they were still hiring.

We slid into some of the front row seats of the auditorium because the whole amphitheatre was nearly full, and sat through two and a half hours of explanations about Cinematographic Language (roughly the same class as what we had in college, so it should be kinda easy). As we rose to exit the room, we spotted Gabriel. He'd been sitting at the back of the theatre all that time.

I hadn't known Gabriel shared classes with us. He hadn't managed to get his schedule done along with us, so he got the remaining default classes and I'd assumed we'd hardly ever see him.

But apparently I was wrong. As we compared schedules, it turned out he had three classes in common with us.

We said goodbye, though, because Slim wanted to drop quickly into the army surplus shops before we headed home. I had a shift at work that evening and we couldn't underestimate the travel time. So we headed on to St-Laurent street, shop-hopped until we found was he was looking for.

He wanted a full-body camouflage suit, like the one in Call of Duty 4.

And we found one.

The man in the shop saw our excitement and came over to warn us that such suits were rapidly selling out, that he only had three left, that they were really popular with hunters, that if we took too much time to decide, he might not have any for us, so if we wanted, we could put a deposit on it.

As soon as I managed to get a word in, I asked, "How much is it?"

The man shrugged. "A hundred and twenty."

Which, you know, GACK.

"Whoa," Slim said. "A hundred and twenty for a Halloween costume?"

"But a mighty awesome Halloween costume," I quipped. The salesman laughed hoarsely.

"She's right," he said. "Best in the business."

"Wait," I said, turning back to the man. "Um, with tax, how much does it come to?"

Because in Quebec, we have ~15% tax, remember, that isn't applied to the actual price until you get to the cash.

"I'll make it 125$," the man shrugged.

Slim still looked horrified. "Well," he said, turning the pack over in his hands, "if I get this, I will most definitely need a job."

"No biggie, you're easy to sell. Come on, I'll help you find a job."

He stared down at me flatly, but I saw his corner smile. "You are such a bad influence, inciting me to spend my money on stuff like this."

"Hey," I said, "YOU're the one who wanted this."

He laughs out loud. "I know!" But then, he thoughtfully weighs his options. If he buys it now, without the guarantee of a paycheck, he's risking a big loss. If he waits, it could run out of stock. He juggles the idea of a deposit, but then decides against it. He prefers to pay it all in one go.

"Come on," I say, because I know all he wants is encouragement and confidence, "it'll be totally worth your while."

At this point, a young shop-worker who had been watching Slim and I discuss the whole issue burst into a snicker. He waggled his brows at Slim and said, with insinuation lacing his voice as subtly as all of Anthony's catcalls, "It'll be worth your while." With a nod at me.

I try not to flush. I say, with an awkward laugh, as Slim ignores the guy's comment with only a tight-lipped smile, "I didn't mean it like that. I mean... I'm not his girlfriend or anything."

The guy backed off. I was kind of relieved. I mean... really.

Finally, Slim pulled out his debit card and handed it to the salesman. "Here."

"Wait," I said, "you're actually buying?"

He turned an amused smile to me as the salesman hurried to slide the card in. "What? Changed your mind? Geez, talk about indecision. You try to undermine me no matter what I do."

"No, I'm not saying it like that," I laugh. "I'm just impressed."

"You have to help me find a job, that's all."

With that, he finished paying, then we hurried off back to the metro, then the train.

"I just spent a hundred and twenty-five dollars on a Halloween costume," Slim says, both amused and freaked-out, as we sit in the train. "I am the― Oh, hey!"

I look away from his impossibly long lashes ―seriously, what is up with that? If we ever had kids, with our long lashes combined, our kids would have to trim them or something― and look over the seats at a familiar face.

"Maria!" We both exclaim, as our ex-camerawoman peers at us with a grin.

"I thought I heard Slim's voice," she says, amused.

"I'm loud," he shrugs.

"So how was your day?" She asks.

We explain what we've done, she explains how her initiations are going. She had to dress up as the T-Rex from Toy Story and sing lewd songs at the top of her lungs in various public places. We get off the train, and the three of us walk and talk until we reach Slim's car. Slim offers her a lift home, seeing as she's on the way. As soon as she's dropped off, I ask him whether he's going to drive me all the way home too. He merely turned a flat look at me, and asked, "Well, if you want, I can drop you off on some random street corner."

"Um, I'll take that as a―"

"I should kick you out of the car for asking such a stupid question."

"You wouldn't."

"How do you know?"

"You're too nice."

His glare melts into ruefulness. "Yeah, that's true," he mumbles.

"Well, you're welcome to stay for supper, if you want," I say.

"Oh. Um, sure. If it's no trouble, I guess."

"Not at all."

It wasn't. Mom and Dad like Slim, so we had a hilarious supper, followed by my hurrying off to work. I promised I'd get back to him about the job.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," I say as he heads to his car to back out of our driveway.

"No... Tonight," he shrugs, frowning. "On MSN."

I laugh. "If you insist."

"I do."

"But I might finish my work shift exceptionally late. Like midnight or something."

"I'll be online until the wee hours, probably."

"Even though we have to get up early for school tomorrow morning?"

"Yeah, whatever. I'll be there, just meet me."

"Awww," I say, taking on a silly, teasing voice, "You'll be waiting for meee..."

He smirks. "Yeah, exactly. I'll be waiting for you however long it takes."

"Okay then, I'll talk to you later. See you."

"See ya."

My work shift was crazy, but it ended around ten, which was an improvement over my expectations, so when I actually logged onto MSN that evening, I was cheerful...

Me: Good news. 1. I finished earlier than I could EVER have expected. 2. You probably have an interview at Staples on Thursday.

Because I did slip a word in, and inquired to my boss about whether they were still hiring, even though the Back to School was nearly over.

Christian claimed they were always hiring if they were quality people.

I said that Slim was pretty much as top quality as my brother and I, that he was familiar with electronics, good with customers, reliable, cheerful, intelligent, a quick learner, and enthusiastic. I also mentioned that whatever my brother and I do with computers, he also does.

Christian seemed impressed. So far, all the employees he hired from our recommendations are good ones. So he said, "Okay, tell him to find me this week with his CV. Me, personally."

Presumably for an interview on the spot, as he'd done for me. And that was that.

Slim: Oh... I thought you were going to say you're gonna pay for my camo suit.
Slim: But I guess that's still pretty good news! :D
Slim: Haha Just kidding. :p
Me: You're dumb. But yeah, Christian wants to see you Thursday.
Slim: YAY! I'm happy!
Me: Yup. So you'll come with me. I have a shift at two Thursday. I'll introduce you.
Slim: Excellent. Do I bring my CV?
Me: Yes. And you dress up nicely. None of that hobo rags bullshit. :p
Slim: Har-har.
Me: And now that you know, I'll take a shower and go to bed. I take it I'll see you on the train tomorrow morning?
Slim: Yup. Me and the sis are taking the eight o'clock one.
Me: Okay, chill. See you on the dock.
Slim: Alright.

This morning, I saw him waiting for me patiently on the docks, as he'd promised. We climbed aboard the train and reached his sister. We walked into UQAM, then split up with her, and headed upstairs to sit at one of the tables on the balconies overlooking the grand open area (and yes, that IS a church façade; the Judith-Jasmin pavillion is but one of the many Montreal buildings re-using religious buildings as foundation). We waited a while before heading into our Screenwriting class, where, thank God, we will be actually writing. Constantly.

This, by the way, fills yours truly with no end of happiness. Slim too, to my surprise. He claims he has plenty of ideas.

... Yeah, I know, I should have pulled him into an elevator and shagged his brains out. Life sucks.

We walked out into the sun-filled St-Denis street, looking for a quick meal. Slim doesn't want to spend too much anymore, in light of the his whole spending-like-a-badly-influenced-person. Opting at last for a quick bite at Mickey D's, we then spent the next half hour ambling up and down St-Denis, which is pretty much the liveliest street of the Quartier Latin, until I texted Gabriel, asking for his location.

He was at a local brewhouse that doubles as a restaurant during the day. Slim laughed and claimed he wasn't surprised. We reached Gabriel, who was on the roof terrace, and sat with him and one of his friends, in the hot sun, enjoying the city's easy-going but upbeat vibe, exchanging silly comments and stories, until it was time for Gabriel, Slim and I to head back to class.

In the afternoon, we had Cinema Corpus, in which we basically watch and analyse movies, and take a lot of fancy notes about complex concepts, such as a thing called 'diégèse' (in English, 'diegesis', although this term wrongfully also encompasses the Greek term 'diégésis' that doesn't refer to quite the same thing... I know, it's confusing), which is basically the sequences of events (story, what is told) that are later told in a tale (how it's told). Its definition contains the World, the Pseudo-World, the Construction, and the Double-Construction, along with many sub-explanations. I was having a grand time, learning these concepts.

That said, Slim, Gabriel and I were so busy taking notes, we almost ignored it when a guy wearing a beret (yeah, I know, I know, it's what we get for studying arts) suddenly raised his hand and started commenting on what the teacher was saying in a really obnoxious and long-winded way.

I really hate people who do that. People who just interrupt a class to add something to the teacher's material, not because they want an explanation, but just to show off their knowledge to others. I mean, come on. We don't care.

"Beret Boy," Gabriel grumbled from next to me. "He's so easy to hate."

"If we timed him, I think he came to roughly three full minutes of uninterrupted talk for nothing," I reply, barely above a murmur.

"We need to bother him."

"Throw him your shoe," Slim breathed.

Gabriel and I had to stifle our sudden snorts of laughter, earning ourselves a cheerful look from the teacher, who was so far down in the auditorium he had to use a microphone for us to hear him properly.

We walked out of the class and back into the sunlit street, bitching against Beret Boy, and agreeing we should have found something classy to say to stump him.

"Okay," Gabriel suddenly says, "but can you just clear this up for me, CM? So the three laws of logic are applicable to the diégèse?"

"No," I correct him. "The subdivisions are like this. You have the all-encompassing diegesis, in which are the four main concepts: World, Pseudo-World, Construction and Double-construction. The World is the manner in which the diegesis is realistic, because it obeys our rationale's three laws of logic, making it coherent to the viewer's mind. But it's also a Pseudo-World, in that it is entirely fictional. This is because it's a Construction of the producer, and even more, a Double-Construction because the message sent has to be interpreted by the viewer, so it's doubly distorted."

"Nice summary," Slim comments.

"Thanks," I laugh as we enter the metro station.

Gabriel frowns as we quickly jog down the steps. "So... the diegesis is a paradox, then."

I think about it, then, "Yes."

A second of silence as we step through the turnstiles with our cards. Then, Gabriel starts laughing.

"What?"

"It's just," he says, "that's what we should have said, loud enough for Beret Boy to hear, at the end of the class. 'So, the diegesis is basically a paradox', 'Yep', and leave. Totally destroys his useless interventions."

We start laughing like three madpeople, imagining the delightful victory. Slim and I travel in the metro with Gabriel for a few stations, until we reach Central, and head out. He was the next stop down, so we promised to see him tomorrow, and left.

On the train, though, is where all my good mood found its reason to be.

Slim sat across from me, and we talked idly for a moment, play-arguing as usual, until fatigue hit me like a wave and I felt the need to just close my eyes and rest.

When I opened them again, Slim met my gaze almost immediately. I became suddenly very self-conscious, mostly because I had left him alone to his thoughts for some fifteen minutes. He didn't seem to care, but the moment he saw I was back to attention, he said, "Hey, you heard that Dague and his girlfriend were back together, right?"

"Yeah, you told me. You said you'd gone to Dague's place, all ready to cheer him up, and they were already back together."

"Yeah, actually, Dague told me I'd been wrong. Apparently, when I came in, they were breaking things off for good, and since I so cheerfully assumed they were back together―" Slim laughs sheepishly, "―they didn't dare break it off in front of me. Dague told me they'd been severely arguing before I showed up, but since I was so cheerful for them, it kind of put the argument on hold, and, when I left, they were in such a better mood that they were actually happy to get back together. So Dague told me I'm the reason they're still together."

I can't help but say, "Aww! That's so cute!"

Slim laughs. "Yeah, I'm pretty much a magician. I make things alright for everyone."

In a flash, I remember the last time we went to Moe's. I feel mute.

"But seriously," Slim mumbles, "it's like I learned a lot from my previous relationships. I dunno, I feel like I can understand Dague, and still provide him with the advice he needs, as a third party. Because when you're in a relationship, forget it. You can't be objective to save your life. So what you need is a good friend, someone to talk to. Someone you trust for their common sense and honesty, and genuine care." Here, his eyes flick up to me. I know he's thinking, as I am, about his break-up with Katie last winter, and how I stood by him the whole time.

"Yeah," I mumble. "Although I can't quite sympathize with the feelings, I can understand and recognize the behaviours. Observation and all."

"It's not the same," Slim says, "but yeah, behavioural understanding isn't negligible either. The way people act is visible, even if their inner battles aren't apparent."

I nod slowly. Slim takes a deep breath. From here, the hot white-gold sunlight is hitting his face in oblique, hitting his lashes and making him look healthy. It outlines the column of his neck, and I notice his shirt collar is pulled a little to one side, revealing his undershirt. Ever since he cut his hair, he's so ridiculously handsome. And his eyes are looking straight at me, awake and thoughtful.

"Actually," he begins, slowly, almost carefully, "I think that... as relationships go... there's only one kind that's sure to work... for a lasting period of time, if not a whole life."

I look at him expectantly, assuming he's going to be a little depressingly cynical and comment about friendships being more satisfying than love.

But instead: "I think that... when two people are very good friends― when they've been friends for a long, long time, like years... and then something happens between them― like, ignites― and they get together. I think..." He's serious-looking, thoughtful, but he's looking at me all along, "...I think that's really the only possible way a relationship can last forever."

Oh. My. God. This is not happening. It can't be.

I have to make sure.

"I thought you said that the only way to have a good relationship was to date someone you discovered as you went along, that knowing them by heart wasn't fun."

Contradictions, Slim. Please, don't hurt me again.

He seems surprised I'd remind him of this. He seems thoughtful, then says, "Okay, I amend. Dating someone new is fun. Loving someone you've known for a long time is... I don't know. I guess it's like, you know this person so well that you can't risk hurting them as much, and you can be yourself, and... I don't know, you feel―"

"Safe," I murmur, in time with him.

"―safe. Yes, that's it..." He smiles softly. "Like, safe to love them, and know you're in good hands, and know you're loved in return, because how else would they have stuck with you through high and low?"

I'm not sure how I replied to this, my brain was in such a state of shock.

Okay, screw Ban. He tried, and failed to reason with me. I can't convince myself to stop loving Slim. I just can't. How can I? Could you, if you were in my place? Could anyone, given this situation, do anything but feel the most overwhelming urge to love and be loved in return?

I was smiling all the way home.

Love,
CM

P.S. Okay, yes, I promised a oneshot in case I won the UFO Awards. Fine. I'll try and see what I can come up with, even though I am so short on time and on ideas. D: But alright, you'll get the memo once I upload something.