Since my first kiss in 1997 at the age of 14, I’ve certainly had some romantic ups and downs (okay, mostly downs until very recently). Some of my misadventures are, in my opinion, pretty hilarious, and while others could be considered downright tragic, I’ve learned to laugh about them too.
Given that lately I don’t have much to say about my romantic life other than, “I’m still super happy!” I thought I’d commence a series looking back through some of my old flames and sharing stories that could be considered entertaining (or at least entertainingly tragic).
Throughout my high school years I was very active in the drama club. Each year saw me in a minimum of two productions, one of which was always a grand musical that culminated in a run of shows at the largest theatrical venue in our small city. It was always a big deal. In grade 11 our drama teacher selected Grease as our musical production for that year. (It’s always a good choice to have high school students perform a musical in which the biggest moral seems to be that you’ll keep your boyfriend if you put out.)
I landed in the role of Patty Simcox, which is pretty funny considering that the year before I’d been cast as a MAN in State Fair [Sidebar: shitty musical], and Patty is the epitome of girly. Our cast, as per tradition, was all students of our high school. At least this was the case until some undisclosed event that got the kid playing Roger kicked out of the cast. Roger needs someone who is decently strong vocally, and I guess the director felt that none of the supporting cast had the pipes to replace the ejected Roger. They went searching elsewhere for a replacement and found Tim. Tim was in his second year of university, meaning he was automatically cast as the smoldering older man in my eyes.
Tim and I hit it off right away; he was hilarious. He and I were inseparable at rehearsals, and soon enough he asked me out on a proper date (if you count wings at a pizza place a proper date). I was thrilled to be going out with an older man and very nervous that I’d screw this up. The night of the big date came along and we were to go out after dinner. That night my mom cooked fish sticks, and Tim showed up at my house early. [For those of you playing the home game, please note that he loves musical theatre and shows up to things not only on time, but early.] Due to his earliness, I didn’t get a chance to change prior to our evening out. I’d wanted to change because, as I’m sure you’re well aware, the smell of fish gets into everything when you’re cooking it.
Tim and I jumped in his car and headed to the local Boston Pizza. I was extremely aware of my proximity to him on the car ride, as well as the fact that my potentially poisson-y smelling self was marinating the small space with my stench.
When we got to the restaurant and were seated, I looked at Tim and very seriously said, “Do I smell like fish?”
Tim burst out laughing and in half a millisecond I realized the connotations behind what I’d just said. I turned bright red said, “You can just take me home now if you want.”
He declined my offer to dump me back at home, and we ended up having a great time. He was (and is to this day) a great listener with one of the best biting senses of humor I’ve ever encountered. We ended up dating for around 6 months. During that time my mother cautioned me that he seemed a little “flamboyant”, and my grandfather described him as “not overly masculine,” but these descriptors didn’t deter me in continuing to exist in the relationship.
We’d listen to Pink and park out in the country to make out for hours. During one of our car make out sessions he managed to shoot cum into his own eye. (It’s not worth going into how we came to that outcome – pun intended). Apparently, it stings.
At the end of the school year I landed a bursary to go to Québec for a six week long intensive French course. Tim and I vowed to remain an item, but after I left I didn’t hear from him once for the duration of the six weeks.
When I returned to ButtFuckNowherePrairieTown, I went to Tim’s apartment and confronted him, “What he hell happened to you? I take it this is over?”
He looked sheepish and said, “Why don’t you come in for a second? I would like to talk to you about some things I’ve been thinking about while you were away.”
I came in and felt a wash of fear over what the heck was about to come out of his mouth. As far as I was aware, he’d spotted a ton of seriously crazy shit about me and was about to enlighten me as to how I was completely undateable and would therefore die alone.
The conversation was, in fact, not centered around me (shocking). Tim had seen Coyote Ugly while I was gone and realized that he wasn’t interested in banging any of the stunning supermodels in the film. He was, in fact, much more interested in banging the dude. Suddenly, it all made sense. The love of musicals, the good listening, the punctuality, the fact he’d go shopping with me, the comments about the lack of masculinity. Tim was gay.
And Tim is still gay. Today he writes amazing plays, acts, and manages a Starbucks. We’re incredibly close friends, and every now and then he teases me about smelling like fish, and I tease him cumming in his own eye.