Just when I was ready to text my boyfriend, he called. And like a moth to a flame, my frail wings fluttered, my lust panted, straight into his black hole.
Incarcerated, incinerated was my heart (and my decision making-process), perhaps my conscious...
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Vancouver.
I ran through Stanley park, as usual but when I got to Granville Island, the reminders of her left me barren, like the empty shells abandoned by the ocean waves. My heart smooth, destitute and unmoving, began to let her go.
"Men don't cry, at least not this much. Buddy, you've got to pull it together 'ya know. Dude, jump back on that horse. Get out there." At least now, my response was grateful, not that silent but deadly glare thrown at my best friend months ago.
"Maverick. You got this. Let's box up her things and bring them downtown to the thrift store."
We spent his days off whipping my place into shape. Grieving was a bitch but the hard part was picking up the broken pieces and giving them home. Hers was in heaven. I remember when my mom spoke at dad's memorial. She said, "I won't be selfish, anymore. I love you enough to let you go on to your next life, your next love." I didn't know where she got the strength to do it. But that's what I wanted. Sorta...
Hastings Brewery House,
I have a thing for micro-brewed beer. I blog it and in return, well, it gives me purpose. The bonus is there are many of us. We formed a community... and I taste a lot of free beer. Bonus! My mundane job gives me cash but my blogging has made me a Vancouver Superstar with an invisible superhero cape.
I didn't expect to feel that urge, that need to touch such soft skin again. But I did. I bounced on the side for my peeps. Sure, I'm fit and broad, not all muscle tho. Most guys bounce for the girls, like guaranteed tail, that was me in the past. Now, I just want to hang with my friends but not be stuck in a bar all night long. Outdoors, yeah. Not sure why but I need to be in the forest, by the ocean or a lake.
I met a girl. She seemed nice, clean cut and curvy. She lingered around me and I obliged and opened the door and brought her through the entrance into the brew house. Trust me, when there's a hot girl, my bud (the dog) wags his tail and pounces on the poor kitten. She smiled and went off enjoying her night.
Then she returned, with friends.
And she returned again. I found myself picking up extra shifts, hoping I would see her. She was a tiny distraction from the tattoo on my heart.
We never connected though and that bothered me. So, I took a risk. I sat behind the bar, cleaning the taps and the counter tops, just doing my thing. She looked my way a few times, enough that I was convinced she wanted me. That eye contact tho, right?
Gambling on everything, I walked over to the pull tab machines-- hanging all lonely on the wall by the john. My tip money ... I could blow that shit. So I sunk it all and won nothing.
Maybe if I walk by her again, she might look my way as I grabbed my tip jar from below the cash register. Nope. Fuck.
Back to the machine. I stuck a twenty in. My cash popped back out of the bill receiver. What the hell? I pulled the bill out and smoothed it making sure each corner was flat and ready to go. And it spat it out again. I couldn't even do that right. Pissed, I walked off.
