Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Canada - And a really cute blonde

"O Canada! Our home and native land!" sing Canadians, obviously.

A charming semi-detached conversion with countless bedrooms, full central heating and living space aplenty, although the neighbours are a pain in the arse. Canada is the second largest country in the world after Russia, despite having only half the population of Britain. I've heard Canada has warm underground shopping malls where locals are free to shop far away from Moose (Mooses?), free to say 'Aboot' instead of 'About', and free to drink Molsen whilst wearing big fluffy hats that cover their ears.



Canada seems blessed (?) with a large Scottish community, or at least has many citizens of Scottish descent, which has always puzzled me. Why, after all, go to all the trouble of leaving your cold, snowy homeland to emigrate somewhere colder and snowier?
But I digress.

I've only ever met two Canadians in the flesh, even if my second cousin (once removed) lives there (We've never met). The first Canuck I met was a guy with an American accent so I asked him where in the States he came from.
He told me to Fuck off.

The second was a lovely young lady called Roxanne. I met her on the last refuge of the desperate and shagless (a dating website) where I saw her picture and wondered what the hell she was doing on there. Roxanne was, and probably still is, stunning. Just my type; curvateous and pretty, with long dirty blonde locks that screamed - if hair could scream - Ooh, look at me!! I'm sexy and rebellious, and on top of someone feminine and cute.

I was smitten.
And I nearly had an aneurysm. When I checked out her profile and she returned the compliment and looked at mine, I fell into a deep coma. When I regained consciousness to write to her only to discover she'd written back, I went into cardiac arrest.

I had contracted bubonic plague (you get the idea) once we'd exchanged emails and phone numbers, and we soon arranged to meet. It was around this time that I expected everything to collapse into the usual pile of shit that occurs when you add a pipette of ME to a jug of LADY, but as the clock ticked inexorably toward that memorable first meeting, I had been changing. People at work noticed the corners of my mouth pointing upwards. Someone claimed to have heard me laugh. Others questioned why I'd ran into Russell Square chasing pigeons and frolicking in the fountain.

It was, ironically, Friday 13th, not quite three years ago from today. I'd got to the pub we'd arranged to meet in early enough to have a nerve-steadying drink and establish myself. I took a paper and waited. Ten minutes later, in walked an anxious, beautiful, eye-catching Roxanne. She looked slightly nervous which was great as I had by now become cool, calm, and devilishly witty. Once we got a table, the conversation never let up. We flirted. We played with our (own) hair. We stared at each other with wide eyes. Then she presented me with a rare vinyl 12" from those halcyon days of rave as I had, for some reason, mentioned losing my copy years earlier. I was over-awed. No-one had done anything like that for me before, and it was all being done by this quite beautiful, excitable (busty) woman. She even admitted that she had paid up for the full website functions because she'd seen that I'd written to her and she wanted to reply.

This really doesn't happen to me, ever.

As I walked her back to the tube, I was so happy that I didn't immediately look at a flyer that some guy handed to me until long after he'd disappeared. When I did glance down at the piece of paper in my hand, it read: 'KEEP BRITAIN WHITE.' I still thank the Lord that I didn't look at it while he was still there as I would've ruined the date with a string of expletives and possibly a fight (he was a small man).

I told everyone about Roxanne, including my Asian newsagent, a bus driver, the man who hangs around schoolyards, the surly guys who collect our rubbish.

A couple of days later, we went to the Natural History Museum, which I was told is the kind of thing you're supposed to do on dates (Museums across the world must be full to bursting with the newly acquainted.) But something had shifted. As Roxanne grew in confidence and volume, I began my slow, quiet retreat into myself, letting all that Awe mute me. Perhaps this was in part to Roxanne's quizzing me on what I did the day before.

Because the day before had been St Valentine's.

Something else that never happens to me, ever, is Two Dates At Once. I really liked Kat. Kat is a friend of a friend who I always found rather cute and had always wondered if she felt the same about me. So naturally, I did nothing to check. Until said mutual friend asked if I'd like to hook up with Kat.

So we did.

At exactly the same time I had just met the woman I would gladly die for. Or at least gladly get hurt a bit for.

Kat and I had a very pleasant meal in a Greek restaurant. I tried to be daring and ordered something that wasn't chicken-based, and ended up with a dish that was obstensibly nothing more than baked beans on a plate. And when I got back to hers, Kat gave me a blow-job that for some reason wasn't fulfilled (meaning I walked back to my flat like John Wayne.)

Perhaps I didn't reach the money shot as I ended up telling Kat that I'd uncharacteristically met someone who I really liked, and that was that. Roxanne was greatly amused when I told her this story (minus the oral sex) as she too admitted that she'd been on a date.

Oh goody. Still, this was a vastly more superior St Valentine's Day to the one I'd had two years earlier.

Can you guess where this is going???

Roxanne and I had a couple more dates. She was now running the show while I stood there and trembled. When one evening was at an end, she'd asked coyly if she could come back to mine after she'd returned from a spell in Iceland.
'Erm, yes, yes you can.'

I'd reached in for a goodbye kiss on her cheek as I still lacked confidence to advance to mouth. She went for my lips and I ended up kissing her eye.

So I went home. I tore down my curtains and put them in the washing machine, along with my crusty duvet, the mattress, and the rest of the bed. I removed everything from my room, hoovered and fumigated the bare space, and put everything back again. Then I went to a work conference in Birmingham, fucking Birmingham.

I was on the train back to Euston that evening, awaiting notification of where and when I was to meet my newfound Canadian love of my life. My phone pinged as a text had arrived. I read the message:

'I can't see you again. I'm sorry.'

'Is that Roxanne?' said my excitable work colleague next to me.
'Yeah.'
'And?'
'Meeting her later,' I lied, and pretended to go to sleep as annoyingly my eyes were now getting rather watery.

So that's Canada ~
Pros: Diverse. Exciting. Seems like fun.
Cons: Populated by evil cows. And my cousin Gary. Oh, and Fille, who'll probably want an honourable mention.

17 comments:

Shoshana said...

Ugh, what an ending - you do know how to build the stories up. The problem, of course, is that you told people about her - the more people you tell, the worse it always turns out, at least in my experience. Sorry :(

And btw, technically, my brother is Canadian and very proud of that fact.

The Nothing Man said...

I've heard this tale before, FB. It always makes me laugh...

But with you, in the good way, and not at you!

la fille mariée said...

Ummm. You've seen my my big fluffy hat, obviously. I'm actually wearing it right now. With nothing else, of course. But my ears are nice and warm.

And... ummm.... why did you list me under Cons? I'm clearly a Pro (don't go there). Unless the fact that I'm in Canada instead of the UK is a con to you? I'll go with that, so I won't have to slit my wrists.

O Canada! Terre de nos aieux. Yes... there's a French version, too.

luna said...

I'd have thought that the terre des aieux was France actually but never mind...

What can I say.
Make hay while the sun shine.
Always make a bed date on Valentine's day
Be ambitious and audacious:make two bed dates on Valentine's day(possible with Viagra)
Shut your mouth,not shoot your mouth and then shoot yourself in the foot.
Plot,plan and prepare.

What's your gig on next month's Valentine day (feb 14th)

fwengebola said...

Shosh ~ I quite like the fact your brother's technically Canadian. The technicality being that he was born there, I suppose. And don't worry. I fully intend to keep any future ladies a total secret, even from Large Northern Flatmate - until he spots a third person in the flat.
Nothing ~ Sometimes I wonder what the hell I haven't told people. Best to guess that everyone knows everything, I s'pose.
LFM ~ Gosh, you are a Con, although as an accident caused by the way my brain went when I wrote that (i.e. listing Canadians.)
And isn't 'Terre de nos aieux' Land of our eggs?
Ah, whatever.
Lune ~ Lay off the crack. And for Valentine's Day in just under two weeks, I shall be in my underpants in the living room, watching porn and eating Pringles.

la fille mariée said...

So, now I'm an accident of your brain? Fine. Just fuck off. And you didn't mention beavers. We're famous for them, for god's sake. And snow. You forgot the fucking snow (except for a brief mention in passing, as I recall). And we don't say "aboot"... such a fucking American thing to say about us. We say "about", they say "abahote" or something ridiculous like that.

Con. God. I'm the best thing to happen to Canada since... Naked News!

Okay, I feel better now. Anytime you want to be sworn at again by an exciting, diverse, fun Canadian, just let me know.

Fussy Bitch said...

in my underpants in the living room, watching porn and eating Pringles

If you think you can get away without inviting me to that you're sorely mistaken!

Also, you should know that I'm singing the Police song in my head and it's all your bloody fault.

Waynecoff said...

hi fweng, do you still have Kats number and you didn't say if she swallows, if thats a yes, would love to meet her.
Ps, did they fix the fountain in Russell Square yet?

luna said...

Valentine's day is like Xmas day and her birthday in one.You just CANNOT have a good excuse not to invite her.

P.s. I shall take the liberty to remind you to use Interflora in NY come this next feb14th.
I fear otherwise you'll go and get drunk and play pinball at the student union"s instead of covering your ass re.your ex/future GF.

Soul Seared Dreamer said...

Fucking hell that was a twist I was not expecting.

But on the bright side at least your place is clean!

fwengebola said...

LFM ~ Beavers! I forgot the sodding beavers! I could've had hours of fun with that one!
And the snow, etc.
I did mention pronunciation when I fist met Roxanne and she too said it was nonsense. So I asked her to say it properly, and she said 'Ok... Aboot, see?'
I didn't mention it again.
FB ~ If you want to join me in my underpants in the living room, watching porn and eating Pringles, then you're more than welcome. But it's vastly less erotic than it sounds. Especially as Large Northern Flatmate may be there in his pants eating doughnuts.
WC ~ Welcome back. Kat's number's long been a stranger to my mobile, and she didn't have to swallow so I don't know if she does that or not.
Dammit.

Oh dear.
Lune ~ Interflora? New York? Oh crap, I dunno. It's hardly a committed relationship at the moment, what with the distance and her new job and blah blah blah...
SSD ~ Yes. And welcome. Except this was nearly three years ago and this bedroom, in Willesden Green, is now being occupied by a South African.
Dammit again.

luna said...

Told you so,they are encroaching absolutely everywhere!

When did I hear that beavers were Canada's emblem of commerce,when the fur was sold all over the Continent and the States to hatmakers?
Then people switched to felt under Peta's pressure and Canada switched to the maple leaf,a bit flimsy to cover their parts in wintertime if you ask me but then it's ecological sustainable fashion.

fwengebola said...

Hmm, I'm pretty sure the Canadian flag was never one big beaver.

He he he.

la fille mariée said...

Oh grow up. Our beavers are of perfectly normal size.

fwengebola said...

Are any of them careful with money? You got any tight beavers up there?

luna said...

She has but it's more like,er,down there.

la fille mariée said...

Nice, Fweng and Luna. Very nice. And I hardly gave you an opening for those lines at all.

I don't convey sarcasm well in a comment box. There should be a sarcasm emoticon.