Sunday, April 02, 2006

Human Off Switch

The "parkour demonstration" ended up being the first and largest parkour gathering this year. These things occur maybe twice annually with a turn out of almost 70 people from both Montreal Island and the surrounding areas. Three hours later - which included a conversation with suspicious-looking stadium security guards - I jotted down the contact information of some professional traceurs and set up a meeting with one who flirted with me in broken Chinese (which was actually quite endearing). This story just keeps going. I feel like I'm undercover chronicling the hidden world of conflict diamonds ... except I stick out like a sore thumb in my heels and pencil skirts and ask controversial questions like, "How do your parents feel about you getting hurt?"

NorIda, my camerawoman, as we were walking up another ramp: "Damnit! My equipment is so heavy. Why do they have to be running all the time?!"


Anyway, I guess I spoke too soon about Cedric. I have too much on my plate right now, juggling human acquisitions with those who can potentially man-handle me. Between school and opportunities to bulk up my CV and writing articles, I'm having way too much fun meeting interesting people to want to deal with scorned passions back home. It must be a winter blues thing because there's really nothing like spring to get the juices flowing and keep minds from moping.


My neighbour just staggered in drunk, asking me to turn off all the lights and sit with him on the couch. I fluttered around where he was cleaning up the mess I had made painting. It was, of course, an excuse to not go near him because I know what "sit down and relax" means. Any woman who has encountered this ploy knows what it means. Any woman who has had her ass "playfully" grabbed as she got up from her seat knows what "sit down and relax" means. And I ain't gonna define it for him.

Especially not when I feel a pang of interest for his friend, Cedric. There's no doubt that he also likes me, plying me with sweet nothings through my front door to get me to open it. I've forgotten how easy it is to express attraction when there are no manipulative games; how easy it is to be obvious when the opposite person is responsive, and what "good timing" really means. Things simply fall into place, neither giving nor taking, everything just "clicks". I don't think I've ever felt this kind of gentle yearning before. Maybe it's because I really am in a different place, mentally and emotionally, than I was years, if not months, ago.

His dad's from Africa and works for the World Bank (ominous, I know). His mother's French. He's a handsome mulatto who went to the Lycee Rochambeau in Washington, D.C.; lived in France; studied architecture; now in Montreal for political science. He's 20-years-old and has already completed three years of college. Assertive, but far from cocky, courteous, but lacking pretension, he was curious - yes, actually curious! - about me when we spoke. No one, besides girlfriends, has ever asked me about myself to the extent he demonstrated last night.

I like that he isn't crude. I like the way he averts his eyes whenever I catch him gazing at my body. I like the way he'd say, "Sorry for that. As you were saying ..." whenever someone disrupts our conversation. But I especially like his level of self-control among men who don't restrain their hands because they believe "inadvertent" is a word created by lawyers to get their clients off.

It's still too early to tell though. I've had nothing but shitty experiences with men my age (which should be more appropriately stretched to include those under 55). Also, I'm deciding between three potential ambassadors for my va-jay-jay. It makes my job that much more complicated than it needs to be. Whoever makes more of an effort wins, I suppose ... (Mentos! It's like I'm auditioning for the Love Connection: "Contestant number one: If I was a bonsai tree, how often would you trim me?")

As for my neighbour, he promised to return, assuring me he didn't want to deal with his friends and just needed a place to crash. 20 minutes later, I discover he had passed out in the process of proceeding. I locked the door and now here I am, writing on my blog ... (what a sad existence I lead).

Damnit! I have to meet a bunch of parkour guys tomorrow for a group demonstration. Even God got to rest on the seventh day (unless Sunday is the first day of the week, which would make Saturday the Sabbath. What day is it? Saturday or Sunday? I think it's Saturday because I read that Constantine ... Wait, why am I talking about this? I'm an atheist!).

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