The Coworker and I have been on a date already once this summer. He took me to a TFC (Toronto Football Club) game. Naturally, soccer games and beer go hand in hand, so this made for an excellent first date. After that, more hops and ale to our lips at the nearest bar. By the end of the night, I was a keg.
I truly had a great time until my unsatisfied, I’m-living-in-a-movie-brain takes over my reality – a quick look from across the room, and she knew he was the one. They kissed and fireworks literally exploded from their lips, harpists from around the world joined in harmony to show their appreciation for their obviously fated love and white bunnies and colourful butterflies of all sorts took over the lands. This SHOULD happen, right?? Oh, and he has to look like James Franco.
So, in conclusion, when that ever-so-realistic situation doesn’t happen – I'm suddenly not into it. Needless to say, the harpists didn’t show up to the bar, so I wrote it off for months. Until now...
The other day during our co-working flirt fest, I knew The Coworker had a two-hour break (stalk much?) so I ask him to hang out with me during that time. I thought we would check out the CFL festivities happening by our office. For all of my non Canadian readers, this Sunday, Nov 25th marked the 100th anniversary of the CFL’s (Canadian Football League) Grey Cup. Picture the NFL but with about a billion dollars less in funding. Toronto’s main streets shut down to throw a huge tailgate party for all to join. Beer? Tents? Minus 72 degree weather? How much more Canadian can you get?! We ran over.
He grabbed us beers, we laughed, chatted and slowly started to turn into human icicles. It was the best impromptu date ever. We soon made new friends; two 6’5, 300lbs inebriated, retired Navy men who insisted on buying us rounds of tall boys. (I love drunk people!) Naturally, we talked about the most inappropriate things and my face hurt from laughing so much. Or was that the frost bite?
During our liquid courage conversations, the more inebriated one of the two men asked as blatantly as possible “Honestly, how come you two aren’t dating?” We awkwardly looked at each other, to which The Coworker replied “Ask her, I’ve been trying!” He’s right. He has tried. After that, a slew of drunken reasons as to why we should be dating were presented:
“You’re good looking, he’s not ugly; you’re both attracted to each other; you both laugh together; you both like to drink…” Obviously, a match created by the heavens. But, I started to think... if it was clear to two random drunken Navy men that The Coworker and I have a connection, then maybe I was the one who was seeing double?
The Coworker’s break was nearing an end. Four tall boys in and surrounded by some of the rowdiest football loving Canadians, I was having one of the funnest/ random-est nights I've ever had. Camera crews from TV networks were starting to show up to broadcast to the world just how drunk Canadians really roll. Jumping on the opportunity, the more intoxicated of our new friends thought it would be a great idea for The Coworker and I to kiss on camera to prove our love for one another. "It's a kiss cam!" they shouted, as they cheers'd their beers. I was secretly flattered that they were so involved in our new love life.
Just when I thought we'd covered all grounds of TMI and personal space invasion, it got worse. As the peer pressure persisted, I finally gave in and consented to let The Coworker plant a big, awkward, wet one on my lips in honour of the invisible 'kiss cam'. On national television. *And the crowd goes wild.*
Was this my realistic romance movie; a sea of cheering frat boys and flavourful beers to replace the unified harpists and colourful butterflies?
My mother would be so proud.
La Blonde xx