New Boy

FULL MOON FEVER HAS STRUCK ME HARD.

I have met a new boy to make my heart beat closer and faster to death. I don't care though. He is a fantastic boy. I must admit, I haven't been this smitten since well Loverboy - but that is a bad comparison. We will just forget about that for now, ok?

I think I will call him Dreamweaver - since I did nothing but dream of him last night. Which is a sign in itself as I seldom dream of boys I like.

I think I should take a step back - because it sounds like I am in love or something ridiculous like that. And that is not the case.

Dreamweaver is a friend of a friend. I love this friend and his sausage parties and his friends. They are called sausage parties on account that 80 percent of the guests at his parties are boys. And about half of those boys are not currently dating anyone special.

It is a virtually untapped market of boys. The guys who manage to hook up with girls, are always meeting friends of friends. These are not the boys who run into women at bars, clubs or the libraries. These boys play sports with all the other guys, and have house parties all the time. My friend has been getting me on the the invite lists for years - and I thank his so much for this. There are the Highlight of the Toronto house party scene. Well for me they are.

Now I call him a new boy. But I have known him for years by now. I just never thought there was anything worth exploring with him. I never got the vibe off of him.... You know. The conversations were great - but there wasn't a spark. There once was an incident ( two parties ago) where he seemed very interested in what I had to say. It was almost creepy for me - perhaps that I am not so used to this much attention from a significantly pretty straight man. I made the mistake of talking to our mutual friend and asking what is with the weird guy. I was reamed out for being so judgmental and perhaps he just wants to get to know me better - because I am so great. Of course I didn't believe this reasoning at all. Boys don't know how other boys can be.
But being the progressive female that I am, I did heed my friends words. I spent some time at the last party with Dreamweaver and discovered he and I can have some great conversations. We even seem to like similar things. How progressive indeed.

Fast forward to the mutual friends birthday party. Not a house party. For some reason, he chooses to celebrate his birthday, every year, at a Firkin. Not so bad. Really. Pool was free. Whatever.

So Dreamweaver was mildly attentive for most of the evening... Then he became intensely attentive, once my token fag date and another friend abandon me for the gay ghetto. We played some pool... At this stage - I must advise you that there was a lot of drinking going on at these festivities. I got a little too tipsy. And didn't notice until it was too late - just how tipsy I was. I had some pool issues of the worst kind, I even had to correct some bad footing and save myself from an embarrassing spill in the pool room of this Firkin. (That would have been Firkin sad. And Firkin embarrassing.) Therefore I will warn you that the rest of this issue is based partially in reality and partially in a shady, hazy mind.

He and I settle into some pool - and on account of my poor skills ( and vodka induced hand-to-eye coordination), he kept showing me on how to follow through on my shots. This means being in close proximity to my person. Moving my fingers into positions, and being so close I could smell his soft smoky breath. Of course, the problem wasn't my dexterity , but a girl goes along with this sort of attention from a boy with some sexy sexy ways about him.

We spent the rest of the night together, smoking and playing pool. There was not awkward moments. There was plenty of eye contact and smiles. Even a long, playfully argumentative chat on punk rock and the dead milkmen. I really started to look at this Dreamweaver and envision us together. His hands on me, holding me.

I don't always add these cavets of my dream world as some things are sacred and too private to publish on this page. Regardless of the fact that no one ever reads them. So please take the following paragraphs seriously into consideration. Don't judge me for being a lost little girl.

As I sit here listening to old school Canadian EMO originators bands - I want this Dreamweaver to be someone special in my world. I sense a calm in him that makes me want to do more in the world. Just so long as he will hold me in his arms and kiss my hair.

I know that really a lot of this feeling is coming from the double vodka sodas I was injecting at a feverish pace. Beyond the inebriation - I know there is more. I just haven't had the time to gage more.

He left the bar with me and walked up the street with me. I thought this was going well, then at the corner he stopped and hugged me. A farewell hug only. We did establish that we would be seeing each other for the next two weekends. ( Hallowe'en party season is upon us). Then he was gone. I didn't see if he looked back, I was still wondering why he was gone so quickly.

Maybe I am imagining nothing instead of this great chemistry. We will see.

P.S. Bookworm was there. I have now seen the error of my ways in him. I see him for what he is.... And that is not the boy for me ... Not even for a little while. I did take pleasure in him noticing me with Dreamweaver though. I liked how he was attempting to be touchy with me - and I didn't respond at all. Small victory for me. Trust me - not the big picture.

Maybe my full moon dreams will be filled with love with the Dreamweaver. Here's hoping.