Alas - A Lass, A Lad
D and I continued to see one another right up until I left for Scotland but I knew it would be over when I got back. S had recently re-emerged, as well; texting me and being flirtatious. This time, however, he had come right out and said that he was, “Happy to have a friend with Benefits”, meaning that is all we ever were to him. I was angry at first, that this was all that I ever meant to him, but relieved at the same time, that he had finally said what he meant and answered that lingering question for me. After that, I decided I was done with being used. Done with empty, meaningless intimacy. I was going to Scotland and was going to keep my heart, my mind and my options open while over there.
What if I met someone there and wasn’t open to it? That would be silly, especially considering both S and D’s outright admittance that I was nothing more than a casual fling for them. So, I spent one more sweet night with D and left in the wee hours of the morning, saying what I thought, was a final goodbye to him.
The Meaning of Life of Brian?
After settling in to our room, and having our dinner, my sister went to bed and I grabbed a glass of wine and headed down toward the River Dee. Sitting on the bench, glass of wine in hand and soaking up the charm and beauty of the property and listening to the river flowing, along comes an Englishman wearing a ‘Helping Heroes Heal’ t-shirt. He approaches and says hello, I state the obvious, “You’re English”, to which he responds, “You’re American”. I reproach him for that assumption and correct him, “I’m Canadian”, and then ask him if he is a Veteran. He says he is not, and asks why I would ask that. I point to his shirt. He laughs, and I tell him I am a Veteran. He says, “no”. I ask, “no? What do you mean?”. He says, “I’m not”. “Not what?”, I ask confused. “A veteran”, he explains seemingly annoyed. “I am”, I say again. Confused, he looks at me and asks, “You’re a Veteran?”. “I am”, I confirm. We both laugh uproariously, realizing how hilarious our exchange had just been, and how difficult communication with another can be even when you’re face to face and speak the same language. I tell him I’m retired Military Police, and he jokes about how he needs to be careful and asks the same thing everyone asks me when they hear I was a copper; about my cuffs of course. I sarcastically enlighten him, “I’ve never heard that before”, and we both laugh again. Our interaction turns into a something along the lines of a combination between a Monty Python skit and a scene out of a Nora Ephron movie, starring Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. We discuss what he does; Counselling, as he is a retired Counsellor and I am a newly minted Counsellor. We discuss why he’s wearing the T-shirt, his volunteerism; and I talk about my own. This leads into a conversation about domestic violence, human trafficking and humanity’s darkness. We talk about my trip to Belfast where I found myself in a Catholic pub, alone and uneducated; and how I got a quick and thorough education about the state of NI politics on that holiday. He calls me scary and says I’m strong and dangerous. We laugh some more and exchange silly banter.
I return to my room that night and I think to myself, “What a perfect ‘Meet Cute’ for a Nora Ephron movie”. A perfect love story meets tragedy and comedy. Pretty much sums up my life, in a nutshell. Over the next few days, T and I continue with these exchanges, and eventually exchange phone numbers. We chat a bit. We flirt some more and then we exchange a few intimate moments. I think to myself, “I was right in ending it with D, I knew I was going to meet someone here”. And I was right, but not about T.
