The Boys.

I've done some travelling lately and its welcomed.

I thought I would give myself a break after school and before work. Thought I'd take a greyhound somewhere just to break the routine, be different and enjoy all this space that is swimming around me constantly. So I did, and the boys I've met have been experiences like none other.

I think I'll remember the bridge between April and May 2007 as, "The Time of The Boy." Yes, I like that.

Ottawa meant too much time spent on a bus, but it was worth it, I think.

My time spent in Ottawa wasn't terribly overwhelming. I didn't see the Parliament buildings or the flamming fountain infront of them... There was no time spent in the casino (Their minature racetrack was very tempting though), and the only conversation of hockey was when I asked if it would have been appropriate to wear a Leaf's jersey in the city (Oddly enough the answer was: Only if you want to get stabbed with a hockey skate). I did have Poutine and I did laugh at the ridiculous state of Hull, but that was really all that happened.
Meeting Stephane was terribly calm. I was nervous while standing in the bus terminal, but after getting in his car, the butterflies had gone.
Stephane is an interesting man. He has the mentality and the motivation of a genius: He's the King of Procrastination. While living with Steph over my three days in Ottawa, the highlight of the trip was going to a bakery down the street from his house. It was the closest I've ever gotten to eating, "Real French" pastry and I relished the moment, even though it was terribly underwhelming and French Canadian.

The internet creates strange expectations.

I don't regret meeting Steph. What I do regret is investing so much time and interest in someone who isn't capable of returning the favour, even if its only halfassed. There's a special concern that I will always have for him, even if its not warranted. He's an amazing individual, he's just a selfcentered and emotionless one right now.

Meeting Scott wasn't so grand.
Ever since talking with Scott on the phone for the first time, the living piss had been scared out of me. I never had an intention of meeting him, but when he plucked my heart strings with the sad, sad tale consisting of, "You came all the way to Ottawa and you're not even going to make the time to meet me for five minutes?", I ended up allowing it - In a very public setting.
Scott only made two sexual refrences, commented negatively on my crocs only once, and attempted to run his finger along my back during the akward silences that were spent sitting on the bench in the bus station.
Scott was weird and while I have no emotional, physical or mental attraction to him, he claims that I have, "hit him like lightening", and for some reason maintains that he has a crush on me.
Scott also claims he's a genius. I unfortunately, don't believe him.

And then there was Ken.
Ken is my strange, little Hobbit man from Buffalo and I love him.
I didn't want to meet Ken either, but unlike Scott, he turned out to be the most well rounded individual I've met in quite some time.
We met at Tim Hortons, we talked about sketching. He showed me the pictures in his Ipod from the MOMA. We laughed and chortled over how we took the same pictures in the same places. I showed him glorious Fort Erie. He was underwhelmed.
A couple weeks later Ken asked me to come to Buffalo and he took me for an amazing tour of an amazing city. Ken has far too much knowledge packed away in that little head of his and he makes me laugh and if he would have me, I would date him in a second.
Ken's the type of guy that makes normal feel good. There's so much to him that's inspiring and interesting, but he's calm and grounded and entirely too humble. To put it frankly, he knows how to treat the ladies.

He's a good soul.

Driving to Kitchener is oddly enough, only scary when I think about it now.
Being on the highway that late at night, with no idea where I was, or where I was going, in my grandmother's Saturn, was a bad fucking idea. Yeah sure, I'm fucking insane.
Meeting Mark was one of those, "This is going to be a fun story to tell my children one day". Its the closest I'll ever get to being a free spirit; its the closest I'll get to doing copious amounts of pot. Its one of those things that will keep me from regretting my youth.
Mark is one of those guys that will always make you feel comfortable no matter who you are, what you're about, or how you look. He's there for the sake of being there and he enjoys every second of making the time for you and that's what makes him so fucking awesome.
Mark's a lucky sonofabitch though. Someone (whom at the ripe age of twenty-three), has yet to step into reality. We spent a good part of the night walking on the golf course across from his house. There was a point where I just wanted to lay on the short grass and look at the stars for the whole night, but it was cold and he made promises of hot chocolate.
Mark was a guy that I could have got caught up in. But he would have been an escape for me, and that's all he could have ever been.

He should be flattered.