Teen Angst
Last night, Lucas drove me home after a late dinner of fondue and mussels with Erik. It was about 12:30 when we left BeirMarket, and by 1 a.m. we had arrived on my brother's street. He put the car in park and turned in his seat to face me.
Okay, so I'll admit it. I was slightly... nervously excited. I have a teeny tiny crush on Lucas that is probably as much a function of wanting a rebound to help me move past Andrew as it is an actual attraction to Lucas. (I mean, he's not necessarily attractive by conventional standards. He's too tall and too skinny. But he's extremely smart, charismatic, confident, and opinionated. His conversation is always mentally stimulating.) We had been sparring all night on various topics and we had both accused each other of being the most argumentative person we'd ever met. (For me, this counts as flirtation. Sadly.) And it was a nice, balmy night. Moonlight, okay, streetlamp light, filtered down through the rustling leaves of the tree overhead. The mood was right.
At least for me. Apparently the mood was right for Lucas too - to start a debate with me about the merits of Canadian constitutional law and American constitutional law when it comes to hate speech and the protection of minority groups. We talked about this for over an hour. Granted, it was a very interesting conversation and I definitely learned a lot about the Canadian constitution, the Canadian Human Rights Commission, and the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal. But good lord! It was late! It was dark! We'd had a nice night! What does a girl have to do in this godforsaken country to get a kiss?
Eh, who am I kidding. If he actually tried to kiss me I probably would have freaked out. And to be honest, about one hour into the whole U.S. v. Canada constitutional conversation I didn't really want to be kissed anymore. I was really getting sleepy. And I also knew my brother and Julie were due to come home from their trip to Pennsylvania any minute. And indeed, at around 2 a.m., my brother and Julie drove past Lucas's car to pull into the driveway. I immediately panicked. I was stupidly smoking a cigarette, which I thrust at Lucas with a "Here, hold this!" I then rolled up my window and slunk down in my seat. Lucas was bewildered and then amused as I explained to him that my brother and Julie would kill me if they knew I smoked. He scoffed at me that they knew already ("Nonsmokers can smell a smoker miles away!") and then asked, "Anyway, what are you, in grade school? Why are you afraid of them?" To which I explained that I wasn't afraid, but I didn't want to upset them or disrespect them by blatantly doing things that I know they wouldn't like, especially when they were being so generous as to let me live with them for the summer. Lucas, who is 33, then asked how old my brother was. When I told Lucas my brother was thirty he was really amused.
Anyway, so then I didn't want to go in the house because 1) I was hoping if I went in much later they wouldn't think I was the person outside in the car and 2) I wanted to "air out" and not smell like smoke. (Note to self: Smoking is gross! You have to "air out"! Quit already!) This was fine with Lucas, since he still had plenty to say about constitutional jurisprudence. So he offered to drive me to Tim Horton's so I could wash my hands and get some gum. He also laughingly offered to buy me air freshener so that I could douse myself with it.
By the time we got back to my brother's house it was almost three and it was time to face the music. I crept up to the front door like a fifteen-year old trying to figure out a way to sneak into her house when it was past her curfew and she had been drinking. I made it into my room and thought it was safe but my brother charged in and demanded to know what on earth had I been doing sitting in a car outside with some guy. Now I really felt like a silly kid. So, I did what any silly kid would do. I lied. "What car?" I asked innocently, rounding my eyes. "You weren't outside in that Ford Escort?" he demanded. "Who, me? I just got here." He looked at me suspiciously but then just sighed irritably and stomped off. I mean, seriously. I AM 26 years old.
Okay, so I'll admit it. I was slightly... nervously excited. I have a teeny tiny crush on Lucas that is probably as much a function of wanting a rebound to help me move past Andrew as it is an actual attraction to Lucas. (I mean, he's not necessarily attractive by conventional standards. He's too tall and too skinny. But he's extremely smart, charismatic, confident, and opinionated. His conversation is always mentally stimulating.) We had been sparring all night on various topics and we had both accused each other of being the most argumentative person we'd ever met. (For me, this counts as flirtation. Sadly.) And it was a nice, balmy night. Moonlight, okay, streetlamp light, filtered down through the rustling leaves of the tree overhead. The mood was right.
At least for me. Apparently the mood was right for Lucas too - to start a debate with me about the merits of Canadian constitutional law and American constitutional law when it comes to hate speech and the protection of minority groups. We talked about this for over an hour. Granted, it was a very interesting conversation and I definitely learned a lot about the Canadian constitution, the Canadian Human Rights Commission, and the Canadian Human Rights Tribunal. But good lord! It was late! It was dark! We'd had a nice night! What does a girl have to do in this godforsaken country to get a kiss?
Eh, who am I kidding. If he actually tried to kiss me I probably would have freaked out. And to be honest, about one hour into the whole U.S. v. Canada constitutional conversation I didn't really want to be kissed anymore. I was really getting sleepy. And I also knew my brother and Julie were due to come home from their trip to Pennsylvania any minute. And indeed, at around 2 a.m., my brother and Julie drove past Lucas's car to pull into the driveway. I immediately panicked. I was stupidly smoking a cigarette, which I thrust at Lucas with a "Here, hold this!" I then rolled up my window and slunk down in my seat. Lucas was bewildered and then amused as I explained to him that my brother and Julie would kill me if they knew I smoked. He scoffed at me that they knew already ("Nonsmokers can smell a smoker miles away!") and then asked, "Anyway, what are you, in grade school? Why are you afraid of them?" To which I explained that I wasn't afraid, but I didn't want to upset them or disrespect them by blatantly doing things that I know they wouldn't like, especially when they were being so generous as to let me live with them for the summer. Lucas, who is 33, then asked how old my brother was. When I told Lucas my brother was thirty he was really amused.
Anyway, so then I didn't want to go in the house because 1) I was hoping if I went in much later they wouldn't think I was the person outside in the car and 2) I wanted to "air out" and not smell like smoke. (Note to self: Smoking is gross! You have to "air out"! Quit already!) This was fine with Lucas, since he still had plenty to say about constitutional jurisprudence. So he offered to drive me to Tim Horton's so I could wash my hands and get some gum. He also laughingly offered to buy me air freshener so that I could douse myself with it.
By the time we got back to my brother's house it was almost three and it was time to face the music. I crept up to the front door like a fifteen-year old trying to figure out a way to sneak into her house when it was past her curfew and she had been drinking. I made it into my room and thought it was safe but my brother charged in and demanded to know what on earth had I been doing sitting in a car outside with some guy. Now I really felt like a silly kid. So, I did what any silly kid would do. I lied. "What car?" I asked innocently, rounding my eyes. "You weren't outside in that Ford Escort?" he demanded. "Who, me? I just got here." He looked at me suspiciously but then just sighed irritably and stomped off. I mean, seriously. I AM 26 years old.
* * *
Yesterday as I was walking downtown, an eight-year-old Middle Eastern boy ran up to me and slapped me a high-five. I think it was because I was wearing my red "South Korea's Got Seoul" t-shirt. Lucas told me Bloor Street was madness after the South Korea - France game. Apparently the Koreans were parading up and down the street, waving flags, cheering, and generally creating a ruckus. We have such team spirit. I loved how the commentators kept remarking on how loud the Korean fans were during the game. At one point one of the commentators said, "Wow - I think the Koreans have actually stopped singing. Woops, there they go again!" I'm so proud.
* * *
Austin, the guy who works at Solferino, the gelateria I go to study every day, is pretty cute and loves movie soundtracks. Sometimes he plays the soundtracks to all the James Bond movies, other times he might play old Western movie soundtracks. Today, the soundtrack was for Soylent Green. Today, he didn't let me pay for anything. My affogato al cafe, my regular coffee, and my two bottles of water were on the house. It was so nice of him. So when I went outside and this homeless girl who looked about my age asked me for change, I gave her all the change I had. I'm patting myself on the back.
posted by J. at 11:56 PM
2 Comments:
Man + Ford Escort = Dreamboat
Haha.
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