Saturday, April 25, 2009

greener grass

It was a lovely day in Montreal - clear skies, trees in bloom and smog covering the Stade Olympique.  I swear, Montreal even smells better than Toronto!  Once of my neighbours decided to throw some shrimp on the barby so there's this wonderful BBQ scent in the air.  I've got a lovely breeze coming in the window; a cold Boreale apricot beer would top this off nicely.  Since I'm on an inch-loss mission, I must stick to water.

About last night... I finally understand what it must have been like for all those fools I dated in the past to look me in the eye and say let's just be friends.  I had plans to hang out with Emile last night after his shift ended around 11:30.  I had it in mind to check out the new restaurant that replaced the $8.95 buffet at Sherbrooke & St-Denis but Emile wanted me to go to his place for a bit.  I said fine as long as there's no monkey business.  Talk about lost in translation.

Emile's apartment is a studio pequeno.  I'd say it's about 200-300 square feet at best.  There was only one light that came through the kitchen.  I could tell this was the flat of a man who just doesn't give a blank about his living arrangements.  I think my favourite part was the Rainbow Brite sheet that covered his futon.  That's right, you read correctly.  

The man with a plan made some food and shared it with me.  We watched a bit of an old Bond flick on TVA then he showed me some pictures of his travels.  While I was looking at these photos, a feeling of sheer ickyness washed over me.  I knew I was not attracted to this guy in any semblance of fashion.  Sigh.  Plus all the pics were of him standing in front of somewhere important.  I told Emile that when I travel, it's very rare you find me in the shot because I don't like taking pictures.  Let's move on.

We're sitting on the couch and Emile does the old stretched-arm-around-the-shoulder routine (very Degrassi, I might add) then BAM!  He moves in for the kill.  It took me a bit by surprise then I told him to stop.  He asked me what was wrong and somehow I told him in English & busted French  that I was just not that into him and I would like us to remain friends.  

His response?  Emile then asks to see my ass.  I said absolutely not.  Then he asked to see my knee surgery scars.  I said fine and he got an eyeful of cellulite.  He was kind enough to walk me home and I made sure he understood where I stand.  I think he got it... I think.   The one thing that really bothers me about Emile is his height.  I am a bona-fide heightist!  Ever since Matthew I cannot for the life of me date a guy who's my height.  I remember my fling with Kieran last time I went to England... he went to find himself on top of a mountain. And yes, he too was short.  

So this is what it's like to be on the other side.  I've always been on the receiving end of the F-bomb but finally I got a chance to experience it for myself.  I feel okay about it because at the end of the day, I refuse to settle.  Still, I believe Emile is in my life for a reason, even if it's just to be a friend.  All the same, my one is out there.  I'll find him one day.

p.s.  I lost 1.5" last week!  I own this!