Lovers in a Dangerous Time

Before I go and clean up a house that is in a dire need of cleaning up, I shall post about the weekend's events. But, I'm in quite the predicament. I mean, where do I start? Do I start where two people, both in moving vehicles, called Scott and I, and I quote, fucking fags? Both instances were seconds apart, no less. I was so embarrassed. I really didn't want to bring my boyfriend into a realm of ignorance, but that was indeed the case. No matter. Scott and I discussed the pointlessness of their comments. It's funny how people think that calling us what we are is some kind of insult. Damn us for holding hands. Or something. I couldn't help it that the remarks got under my skin and started break-dancing. I probably wouldn't have cared so much if I was on my own, but since Scott was there the remarks kind of hit me a tad harder than I should have allowed it.

As per usual, Scott was a friggin' sweetheart the entire weekend. He bought me dinner down town when he arrived on Friday, right before he almost passed away from starvation. After we made our way back to my somewhat humble home, we made plans to hit-up the Waterfront Festival with Brian, Claire, Erin, Julia and Feraz (Erin's boyfriend). Bars succumbed upon our arrival, Ice cream parlours dispensed ice cream, and an insane amount of laughs were had. At one of the bars we were at, Scott had his arms draped around me. One guy approached us and said,

"Are you guys, you know, out. Have guys you come out."

in such a way that he raised his voice after each sentence. I guess this was some sort of question, though not a question that deserves question marks. Scott and I were taken aback by this, and proceeded to say "yeah." What a retarded question to ask. No, we're not out. Please don't tell anyone that we were kissing, it could shock the nation. Oh, the scandal of it all! He then asked us how old we were before heading out of the bar.

That night I also ran into a monkey handful of friends, one of which tried to scare Scott. And I must say, she did a very good job.

Saturday my parents, and one of the two brothers I have left the premises for the rest of the weekend, leaving the house practically to ourselves. Matthew was left behind, but he kept to himself upstairs, allowing Scott and I to have... alone time. Yes, that should hold quite nicely. Not the Hoover Dam hold I'm looking for- more of a chewed-up piece of gum stuck to your shoe kind of hold.

That night Brian, Claire, Erin, Julia, Patricia and Feraz came over for my first "Sick Jam" of the summer. Poloroids were taken. Pizza was ordered. Oh, and not just any kind of pizza, the four-for-one kind of pizza. You know, the one offered by Pizza Hut. My god, whoever came up with that idea is a genius. Instead of four hens bickering about what should go on the pizza, we all got our own way with the four-for-one. /ad

After some time, everyone but Claire, Julia, Scott and I left the house to call it a night at around 2, 4 hours before we had to be up. Claire and Julia were staying over because Claire was nice enough to drive Scott to the bus terminal to catch the earliest bus possible on Sunday morning. If that wasn't the case, Scott would have had to go home Saturday night.

Sunday morning. We were up at the ass-crack of dawn, groggy as ever, speeding down the Gardiner after a delay at McDonald's, trying to get Scott to his bus on time. This was an adventure all on its own. The Gardiner decided to close itself down for some of the way (a liberty I clearly didn't grant), causing a traffic jam at 6:30 in the fucking morning! After a nail-biting car ride against time, Scott made it to his bus with about -5 seconds to spare. Yes, that's a negative sign in front of the number, meaning that the bus waited for Scott to buy his ticket. I felt so bad 'cuz, even though Scott didn't look it, I didn't want to make him extremely nervous for making his bus. Close call that was, but fun times regardless. We all laughed about it, and I'm sure Scott raised an eyebrow or two upon hearing some remarks coming from Julia and other drivers. Good times.

After Scott was safely on his bus, Claire, Julia and I went back to McDonald's, the one that caused us our first delay in the early morning travel plan, for breakfast. I probably should note that, before this, Claire, Julia and I sang "happy music" on the entire trip back from Toronto because Scott made his bus. Cool, we are not.

And that, my friends, is the close to wicked-bad weekend.




It's funny. Even after all this time spent with Scott, I still get a tad nervous about many things. These things range from "I hope I'm not acting like an idiot" to "I hope I look okay". Though this is far from an accurate spectrum, it'll have to do. *coughlosercough* And, mind you, I'm not saying this is a bad thing.