Canadian Hole

Which I mean as a plural singular. Visiting one of their metropoli. Last night, at this bar called Ronnies Local 069 and had my eye continually on a woman sitting with friends. And Canadian women do not divert their glance when it connects with yours. It is the most peculiar thing. They will look back at your innocuously. Unlike when women look back at you in the United States, which is rare and without even the slightest hint of doubt what is meant (when it does occur). In Canada there is no dialectic of glance-connect-look away-glance again or ignore.

As she and her friends began to leave, she stood there, a few feet away from me, waiting for them to pass by and looked at me plaintively, finally saying, bye, which I reciprocated. These being the only words spoken.

Oh the desire of the eyes. She was tall and lithe and had long black hair, lovely eyes and a smile that responded to mine once or perhaps more. And I do not know what would have come of it, had I invited her to join my friend and I for a drink. He's married and his wife is back visiting her mother country, so he invited me here for a few days of boy time, I guess you would call it.

I tell him all about this year. AT and then the women in the bathroom at the bar and then LP and then SS. I tell him about this blog and how I've been waiting for some kind of moral redress and not receiving it. And so he says, following my request that someone tell me I'm a fucking asshole, that I'm a fucking asshole. Which stigmatizes me for a while until later I ask him if he really so thinks. But he doesn't. THe morality of infidelity for him is a purely practical concern. A health concern. And rightly so.

He tells me that if he passed something to his wife he would really consider suicide. And I sympathize with this, although suicide for me has many more meanings. But that threat of not-knowing has worked its magic on me at times. And I've been lucky.

Would I have been able to take this dark-haired beauty into the bathroom (where all great things happen)? And what would this meaningless kiss have meant. Would I have enjoyed it for the pleasure of the kiss, knowing that I was bound to leave this country in just a few days? You see here friends, I'm nothing like you. Women are for me a continual potentiality of love, in addition to the pure pleasure of bodies.

Hole. The term a Greek restaurant owner used, who my friend worked for, back when we went to graduate school together. A woman would come in and he'd say, J___, look at that hole. I thought that was so funny when he reminded me.