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Mr. Canada’s Visit Part 4: Pamplona & The Moon

January 26, 2017

I announced on facebook that Mr. Canada would be available for viewing at Pamplona that night.

We walked over and the gang trickled in. Eric, Larry, Amy and I can’t remember who else.

Despite some pretty heavy smack talk before his visit, he and Amy refrained from having a debate about the rapey-ness of the song, “Baby it’s Cold Outside.”

It turns out, Mr. Canada can’t hold his liquor very well and doesn’t drink often. And he gets pretty silly and even more obnoxious when he does drink. After one cocktail, drunk Mr. Canada was in full form.

I’m not accustomed to being the one who has to keep things in line. I’m usually the one someone else is telling to calm down. The two of us drunk was quite the match.

A couple came in and the guy had hair that jutted out on top of his head. Not fro-like exactly but high. Mr. Canada wanted to go over and ask him if he had stuck his hand in a socket. I protested. He kept insisting. I laughed at him and he ordered another cocktail.

I told him we should go for a walk and I took him out the back door to the alley. I put my arm around his neck and we stayed out there and kissed and laughed until I got him to promise not to antagonize the other patrons.

We went back in and had fun laughing with my friends. He liked Amy and seemed to mesh easily with everyone, though he stayed at my side, touching my legs and kissing me most of the time.

He pretended to order a third drink just to see my reaction. “What? Not another one?” I protested, feeling pretty tipsy myself. As usual he was just messing with me.

We walked to the Blue Moon, kissing along the way. “Get a room,” someone yelled out to us. We just laughed and kissed more.

I got a beer and he got wine. We sat on the back bench, watching every one and kissing. Mr. I Can Tell, was there. He came and sat next to us. I gave him a reluctant hi. Mr. Canada later told me that Mr. I Can Tell stared at him when I got up to talk to someone. He said he wanted to punch him in the face. And when I admitted that I had had a crush on him, like my friends before him, he was incredulous. Between that and seeing Pumpkin Patch, he proclaimed that I had terrible taste in men.

“What does that say about you?” I asked.

“Exactly,” he said, “I’m beginning to be insulted.”

At some point, he reminded me later, I took his plastic cup of wine and tossed it over the side of the high bench we were sitting on proclaiming, “You don’t need this.”

We stumbled home and flopped onto the couch in the dark.

I was so attracted to him. I sat on his lap facing him and kissing him, feeling the effect of too much wine.

“I don’t know if I can finish what I’m starting,” I said.

He just laughed and said, “Let’s go to bed, baby.”

to be continued…..

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From → Rantings

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