Blogosaurus Vex

May 3rd, 2008

December of 2003: I was living in the Marpole neighbourhood of Vancouver, but only barely.  I’d given notice that I was going to move out of my little bachelor suite on Heather St, so I could move back to my dad’s house in Chilliwack where rent would be cheaper.  I.e. free.  My adventure in the city had become something of a flop – I had a job, but not enough money to actually do anything, so I spent most of my time alone and counting my pennies to make sure I could cover all the bills or attending dates halfheartedly with men I met.  Plus, I had recently lost my car when a guy in a stolen vehicle pulled a U-turn in front of me and both cars were written off.  I needed a new car, more flexibility with money, and an emotional recharge.

Moving home was, of course, a fiasco.  I love my dad but at this time he was still drinking and that means that the emotional recharge I fantasized just didn’t materialize.  Which anyone on earth other than me could have predicted.  But that’s the power of the wish for you.  I was at a low place, and commuting from Chilliwack to Richmond every day to work (an hour and fifteen minutes each way) became the best part of my day.  I was alone with music and the drive and it was a calm bridge between my boring job and my anxious home life.  Most of the money I saved on rent I spent on gas so I still couldn’t go out much.  I hadn’t fully cleaned out my apartment either, and was still working slowly on that.

Then my friends Puck and Ambrosia invited me over for a sort of party – some movie watching and loafing at their place.  And oh yes, an old friend is going to be there, he’s visiting from back east.  I went because they are always fun to hang out with and lived across the tracks from my dad’s place and I could get there easily.

That’s where I met my husband.  There was this little guy at Puck’s house, no more than an inch taller than me I’d guess, and with a dark intensity.  Short beard, close-cut dark hair, incredibly dark brown eyes.  And, if I recall correctly, wearing a South Part t-shirt.  He took an interest in me immediately, and began asking me about who I was, what I was all about.  This was my first experience of being in his interpersonal intensity, and I liked it.  This is one of the distinct things about him: he’s got a little fire inside him that comes out in a blinkless stare and a singular sense of focus when you’re talking to him.  He zeroes in on his target and that’s it – you’re pinned.  I started to think about what it might be to be pinned otherwise by him.

That night we watched the movie Pitch Black, but who cares about that, because my foot was touching his thigh during the entire movie and I was much more interested in that half centimetre area of contact than the screen.  By the end of the night I had a pretty big crush but nothing more – no phone number, no email address, no idea of how long he’d be in town.  All I knew was that he was in school in Halifax and at some point would be going back there.

How was I going to see this man again?

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