7.18.2006

headin south

The thing I anticipate feeling, when I expect to spend time with a person and then don’t, is a sense of loss about that person. But the sense of loss I felt on my last day in Quebec was more a loss of adventure, of experience and joy, and of dorky historical trips and speculation about visits to Dubai.

And some of that has to do with Frenchie, because I did like him. I liked our mutual misanthropy and our meandering Wikipedia excursions, his impromptu slide shows looted from the web, his storytelling and his character sketches. I liked that we watched the Vanilla Ice movie, start to finish, because who does that? I liked that back in March he orchestrated three weeks of us living together, though we were practically strangers. It was such a bad idea on paper but he believed in it. And I’m convinced that sometimes that’s all it takes.

That was what I thought we were doing this time, too: willing suspension of disbelief that two people who hardly know each other can fake a big summer adventure and voila, they actually have one. And at the end maybe they move to Vancouver and fake a whole fabulous life, but probably they kiss goodbye and have a really good story involving folk music and fondue.

But instead it never took off. And despite his well-meaning if deeply insulting explanations of why that happened, I think the real reason is he just stopped believing it could work. As soon as I sensed that, I got into self-protection mode. And people protecting themselves are never very cute or likable. So that started to look like the cause.

And it makes me disappointed, because the original plan had some real potential. And angry because after I did so much to get out here he not only didn’t meet me half way, but fled promptly and resolutely. But what it doesn’t make me, fortunately, is heartbroken. He fucked up my summer and bruised my ego, but it’s just not that kind of loss.

Today I biked down Route 77 past forests and crop fields and horse pastures to the rocky shore of Maine, and walked to the beach with the sharp asphalt scorching my summerfeet, and swam in the cold murky Atlantic. And then Jon mixed mojitos with fresh muddled mint and Jones sang and I made squash fritters, and there’s no room for loss here at all.

3 Comments:

At 12:53 PM, Blogger Mademoiselle Caroline said...

A big kiss from Québec.
I'm sorry things turned out like this. I'm sorry I didn't get to give you a big-breasted, round-bellied hug ;o)
xoxo

 
At 4:10 PM, Blogger Waan said...

Ah yes, the cinematic mastepiece Cooler Than Ice ... "Drop the zero and get with the hero." Malt liquor shot out of my nose when Vanilla said that.

Sorry about Quebec. Frustating for sure, but at least you took a chance...

 
At 9:47 PM, Blogger tortaluga said...

oh hooray! one friend with a baby belly and one friend with a beer belly. well, as beer belly as you get when you have 0% body fat. anyway, thanks. :)

 

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