January 10-13, 2001 — Jump, kick, punch

The last three days at least proved that Gillian and I could more or less start where we left off as far as our relationship went, but things still seem a bit unresolved as far as the future goes. Although I might be getting ahead of myself a little bit.

Gillian arrived on Wednesday. She'd told me she was going to go downtown so as to avoid waiting around for me as I went to my one class of the day. I ended up pseudo-skipping the class (it was a tutorial; I had an excuse that could've been valid, and as far as optics go I'm not looking like a slacker since I showed up to pick up my exam and provide my excuse), so I could've probably met up with her early. But we'd agreed to meet at 2:30PM, so I didn't rush.

(There's a story I'd insert here if it wouldn't mean a five-paragraph interlude from Gillian's visit. Basically, through really bizarre circumstances, Pat managed to track down people we spent a week with in Kingston back in grade twelve. I talked about that trip to Kingston a few journals ago with my everything-happens-in-May entry (the Greg's-first-kiss-on-the-cheek bit). So before I met up with Gillian (thinking she was downtown and I had to wait until 2:30PM), I went to Ryerson and saw Pat and Danica (apologies for the guessed spelling) before they went to York to meet up with Karl, who I found out runs everyoneisdoomed.com and who was one of the people we talked with the most while at Queen's for the week. After some shared memories, I figured out who Danica had been, too, and I learned of Karl's plans to take down the advertising industry from the inside. Or something along those lines. I'll try to touch on this more some other time; for now, back to our regularly scheduled programming...)

I met up with Gillian at Union Station and found that she'd been waiting there for three hours. There was no dramatic greeting or anything; I just sat down beside her and was filled in on her game of assigning people colours as they walked by. We took the subway back to my residence building and her three days of introductions began with Johnston.

By the time the day was through, Gillian had met Johnston, Jeff, and Amy, and had seen a lot more Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2 than I think she'd've liked. I am a bad host, even though I didn't actually play. I'll pretend that this was my revenge for having been dragged into Seductions, an adult store, by Gillian, Jeff, and Amy, but I didn't really mean for it to happen that way.

Due to the bunkbed situation in my room, I slept on the floor and Gillian took the bed. Jeff was keen on having Gillian and I share the bunk, but the five-and-a-half-foot drop to broken bones and/or death that would no doubt punctuate the night's rest turned me away from that idea.

Thursday, I continued to be a brutal host. We went shopping, bought nothing, and went to a movie. Andrew was downtown, so he came with us to see "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon." Not having read any reviews, it wasn't at all what I expected. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing.

Gillian and I were teasing or generally bickering with one another a lot more this visit. It was as though my five days in Nova Scotia were the idealized version of the relationship in which we had privacy and everything was perfect. Then we had to face three days almost completely devoid of privacy following three weeks of questioning whether we'd still work at all this visit.

Thursday night (and Friday night, for that matter), Gillian and I moved my bunkbed mattress onto the floor and shared that. This felt kind of awkward with a roommate and all, but I guess you've got to make the best of things. I'd imagine that it must be a lot easier at Ryerson, with their single rooms and doors and whatnot. Ah well. It's not as though we'd've done more physical things had we had more privacy since we'd already decided it would be awhile before sex would be happening, but it would've been nice to have a place to go and be alone sometimes.

Friday came and went, with a trip to a pub-like establishment taking place at Ryerson -- it was my first time entering a bar since I turned 19 and I feel a more than little bit dirty for it. Gillian met Laura, Justin, and Sarah for the first time; Andrew joined us later Friday night for food and some group photos.

And before we knew it, the three days were over. After our last lunch together, I went with Gillian to the bus station. I tried to amuse myself at having had walking recommended to me by a Toronto Transit Commission employee over taking a streetcar, but I wasn't in that bright a mood. I don't think it was as bad for Gillian because she's on her way to Waterloo for four or five days with friends there, whereas I just have a lot of catch-up work to look forward to.

We never really decided what we were going to do about her returning to Europe in a few weeks. Reality, in its ongoing role as of late, has me being horrid at long-distance relationships (based on my blocking out a lot of my feelings while Gillian and I were apart for the last few weeks) and has Gillian moving to Luxembourg until August. Leaving the question of, "Now what?" still unanswered.

I think I'm going to go sleep my woes away. The bad indie film that Johnston rented starring the lead singer from Strife just didn't do it for me, as far as woe-reduction is concerned. You always know casting was a bit iffy when the main character has huge straight edge tattoes and is playing a drug dealer with a sketchy past. But whatever.

I was going to end it there, but I wanted to point out that last bit as proof of the high-class writing you're dealing with on antigreg. Ending an epic journal with, "But whatever"? Brilliant.