Bouche: part I

Once upon a time, I met a boy in the real world (not the online dating world) who seemed legit:

  • Looked good in a suit and jeans (due to past misadventures, I now screen a guy’s ability to dress casually);
  • Quiet but observant;
  • Under 6ft, but then again, nobody is perfect

The best part? We were both satellites of the MBA business crowd, so we ran into each other fairly frequently.

I quickly developed a crush on him. And after a few times of attending the same events, I cautiously started to hope that maybe, just maybe, he felt a wee bit of reciprocal interest in me.  Factors that made me suspect that the interest was mutual included:

  • Long conversations, and an interest in getting to know me
  • Asking me weekly what my weekend plans were and expressing regretful-sounding noises when learning I already had plans because he would have invited me to do something. Some of his would-be plans were pretty sweet, including a home-cooked meal, which I interpret as indication of polished worldly skills, given my inability to master the culinary basics.
  • Inviting me to go to an outdoor concert in the Quartier des Spectacles, along with his brother and brother’s girlfriend

That last one seemed definitely like a non-friend zone invitation. I regretfully declined, having some ironclad reason. To soften the blow, I suggested an activity he’d enjoy for the following weekend (a whiskey festival! Montreal truly does have the best festivals in the world). I remained hopeful.

The following day, Crush invited me in a roundabout fashion to join him and some friends at a club that night. He knew I like dancing and that particular club; why not join them? Playing it cool, I said I’d consider it.

OF COURSE I went to meet him at the club. Duh.

Not only were his friends there, but his brother and his bro’s girlfriend too. “Oh yes, we’ve heard a lot about you.” The loud music prevented the conversation from continuing; they must have only heard good things about me. How could it be otherwise?! I’m adorable.

Just in case I had totally mistaken the nature of the invitation, I played it safe that night. Yes, I flirted, but I made sure he saw me flirting with other dudes. Yes, I danced, but not in a Miley Cyrus lascivious twerking kind of way, but in a contagious fun sort of way, which made it easy for him to dance with me, but which could allow me to walk away with my dignity intact, should Crush not be interested after all.

Do I over think things? Never.

Imagine my delight when he kissed me. He kissed me. Several times, enthusiastically.

I went home on a cloud of happiness. He liked me! Obviously, no?

The following week, I didn’t hear from him. I convinced myself that, as per his previous habit, I’d get a last minute invite over the weekend to do something fabulous.

Friday, 5pm. Nada. Radio silence.

Friday, 11pm. He texted me to thank me for that good idea – he’d gone to the whiskey festival with friends. I needed a moment to recover from his thieving ways; stealing my idea, without inviting me. Ideas are copy-righted, its a well-known fact!

Saturday, 7pm.  We realised we would both be attending the same festival, with friends. Tentative plans were made to meet up. I felt significantly less hopeful than the previous week.

Saturday night. Drinks were had. His friends were betting amongst themselves as to whether or not we were a thing. I discovered this because his friend asked me what was happening between me and Crush.  When I replied that we were just friends, nothing was going on between us, Crush’s friend tried to kiss me. I instinctively pushed Crush’s friend away, who in turn triumphantly told me “See? That is what is going on between you two.” I was very impressed by his Jedi trick.

Except Crush’s friend was wrong. Before the night was over, Crush told me nonchalantly “Mais je t’ai embrassée parce que ta bouche était juste là.” (*)

Ah. Yes. Of course! Floating mouths, in space, are always a temptation.

Sweatpants, meet Bouche (formerly known as Crush). I feel like you would get along, you two definitely have a lot more in common than meets the eye.

Photo cred:

The Sweatpants/Bouche Trainwreck

(*) “But I kissed you because your mouth just happened to be there.” I feel obligated to translate for my anglophone readers. Because I actually have readers who aren’t from Montreal! The power of the blogosphere blows my mind!!!



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