Joe's Woes and Cyndi Laser

"There I was! He thought it was sexy to have me all covered all with his... you know"

Poor Charlie took another swig of beer he had bought earlier. This was a bad idea... bad, bad, bad idea. He looked at his watch and it had been only an hour since his date got there. He had exams to study for and a paper to write for his grief and loss course. This was the worst date yet - I'm going to strangle Joe.

****************************

It was a typical Prince George April - the weather was still nippy and the snow was barely there. That is, the snow that was left was the very example of how stubborn the winter was in Prince George, BC. He lived there for roughly six years and he still hadn't got accustomed to the winters in Prince George. The summers were warm but short, the winters long and bitter and the springs were nothing but a hope. Around town, the people had lost their patience with one another and had begun to be rather rude to each other. For Poor Charlie, being the benevolent peacemaking social work student he was, he was loaded onto with most of friends' problems and woes of living in such a horrid place.

He had one friend in particular - a friend that was the worst drama queen Charlie has ever known. Joe Cappo Gino. Joe barked loudly about his crummy lawn and how all the dog crap aromated his lawn and how it would deter the cats. The cats in turn would run around the house to burn off their cabin fever. From there, his boyfriend, who was allergic to cats, sneezed all the time and took his crankiness out on Joe and would leave for a few days at a time to be stay at his mom's place. If that wasn't enough problems for Joe, his boyfriend's mom was a needy woman who protected her little boy. Which meant she didn't want her baby to be taken away. Which made Joe's life difficult by always picking up the phone and taking her sweet time to get his boyfriend. This would not be so bad if his boyfriend did not pay rent... but he did... and thus Charlie, the angel in Joe's hell was there to save the day. Charlie had about three lattes and two slices of banana loaf - and approximately twenty peeks at his cell to check the time.

As an apology, Joe decided to set Charlie up with a date, "Boy or girl Charlie? I have both in stock."

Charlie said "Someone interesting."

****************************

How does one describe the Rupe? It was a bar that was both fantastic and rather grimy. It was once the jewel of gay culture in town but now it has aged and seems to be stuck in the scene when Britney Speares was famous for melting down into a horrible state of mind. From that point in time, the crowd soon moved away from glitters and shiny clothes to an underground scene that where the men and women would wear clothes more appropriated for goth clubs or worse yet, furry parties - Prince George wasn't big enough for that and thus, a conglomerate of these special interest groups moved into the Rupe.

Sitting at a table with "B + J = Good Head" etched on it, Charlie sat there with his deep blue button up shirt rolled at the sleeves and his collar unbuttoned. He also re-arranged his hair so that it was messy - a style tip from Joe - and he managed to reduce his stubble down to a more chic presentation. He was rubbing his chin in thought about inhibiting drugs for his chemical addictions course when he noticed a woman walked into the bar and was wearing what looked like a neon costume.

He liked - rather loved - observing train wrecks; so he kept looking. What he saw more clearly was a girl with several piercings and various layers of garment in hot pink or violent green/yellow patterns. He noticed that her hair was spiked and shot up in the back. Her front was uniquely controlled - that is, her face was presentable and her features delicate. Despite having a pancake full of make-up on, she was pretty. Pretty face or not, she's rather tough looking and stands like a hockey player.

She stood there, scoping out the room and squingting her heavily painted eyelashes. She saw something, opened her eyes wider and smiled a brilliant white set of teeth. She strode over to Charlie - stomp, stomp, stomp went her army boots - and swished her skirt full of buttons - clack clack clack - and shot her hand out to Charlie.

****************************

"So . . . what do you do for a living?" She sat there, trying to smile. Somehow, Charlie felt she was only acting interested by the way she kept glazing her eyes around the room while fiddling with her phone, "Joe told me that you were smart and down to earth."

"Well the thing is -"

"It's kinda boring here."

"I, uh . . er, what?"

"I want some entertainment."

Charlie felt his face turn red. Diva, please... He wanted to pipe up and say that this may have been a mistake but he also didn't want Joe to feel bad about this so he decided that he was going to put up with this girl. Although the amount of time to spend with her was up for debate.

"So what were you saying? Where do you work again?" Charlie wasn't encouraged at all. She was picking her ear and undressing the waiter with her eyes as he served them another jug of beer.

"Um. . . well I'm going to school to become a social worker -"

"Really? oh yeah - " She looked down at her phone.

"But I have a few years left. My instructors said becuase I'm young-"

"Oh yeah, that's cool -" She slid it open and started to text

"I can complete my degree nad have time to gain a lot of experience."

"Huh..." Looking at her phone still texting furiously.

"And I like getting roughed by beefy men. My safety word is harder."

"Good for you", without skipping a beat with her texting.


****************************

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Charlie blurted out as Joe sat down at the table. It was noon and the rain was steady and cold.

"Hey Charlie, I'm sorry but I met the girl a few times -"

"And decided, Gee, she looks crazy enough for Charlie, let's see what happens!" Charlie crossed his arms and looked darkly at his mug. He was so angry, his nostrils flared and his face stoic and bold. Joe hated when Charlie was angry like this.

"Hey babe -"

"Don't you babe me Joe. Don't. You. Dare." They sat there in silence.

Joe was sat awkwardly and stared out the window. Charlie never got mad; he usually bottled it up and told Joe over text messages. I guess assertive training is making Charlie more honest and upfront about his feelings. Joe looked down at his coffee. Well, what little drops were left in the beige ceramic cup. He thought for sure that a confident, out-going girl like Cyndi would have made a great impression on Charlie. She told Joe that her impression of Charlie was that he was hairy, too skinny and simply not her type. She mentioned that he liked it rough with men which got Joe thinking gratuitous images. The deal breaker, for Cyndi, was he need for safety words. Safety words? Joe thought.

"I'm really sorry, Charlie." Joe felt like crawling away. He felt his insides turn and twist - as though he should have been gutted for the worst date he could have set up one of his closest friends.

Charlie couldn't bear to watch Joe look sad. Joe had a fine features; fit, hairless and the beauty of a young man. Joe was always chased by young men - teens more or less and Joe had perfected a way to beat off these teens. Who knew an older step brother can come in handy? Joe's older brother was always there to scare off the boys. Charlie on the other hand, Joe never did ask his brother to meet Charlie. "It's okay," with a slightly pleasant tone to his voice, "I just want you to ask me what I like next time. Your friend was a bit much and very spinny."

"Any chance that I can make up for that?" Joe's eyes brightened up a little as he sat up higher in his seat.

"Naw, it's okay Joe. So, uh. . . I have to run and do errands today -" Charlie scratched his pointed up chin with hand that resembled a dog scratching with its paw. Joe always thought that this was adorable.

"Yeah?" He leaned closer to Charlie. He couldn't stop from grinning.

"So I gotta run. See you next sunday?" He dropped a five on the table and looked at Joe with a smirk.

 An apology from a man I suppose, Joe thought. "Oh. Yeah we can do that." He smiled. His mouth felt like metal being bent with all the willpower Joe can muster.

Charlie got up, he went over to Joe, gave him a hug and and wished him good luck with the lawn problem. When he was leaving, he thought he saw Joe say something but decided that everybody talked to themselves when others weren't looking.

Joe decided to call his boyfriend. There was no answer. His heart dropped. His boyfriend probably went to his mother's place again. He ordered another latte and looked at where Charlie sat. He couldn't wait till next Sunday. . . he just couldn't. "Stupid me..."

One Night Fail

"Do you like to fool around?"

That was the question that prompted a night of misunderstandings and awkward scenarios. It was also the night that Poor Charlie decided that he will not mix pleasure with work - campaign work worth four intense weeks.

What started all this was the a federal election. It was the another election in a line of elections that Canada has experienced in seven years. Voter Fatigue was a sound bite that was floating around most media outlets and the speculations about the minority government in power was precariously close to achieving a majority government. What stopped the majority had been the reluctance of centrist voters to allow a fiscally sound yet backwards thinking party to take full control.

Poor Charlie never voted for that party - instead he believed in the social democracy where the wealth should be controlled by the middle class. However, he has been called a free spending socialist. This bothered him when he was younger and had a fighting spirit to convince people that this was an effective economic platform but decided against pushing his ideals on his friends after a falling out with one of his closest friends, Isabelle.

That's for another story.

When the federal election was called, he was asked if he would like to volunteer his time to campaign for a candidate local to the region and asked if he would promote this candidate as the ideal person to push out the other, older politician that has made a very good living off of his constituency. At the expense of middle class homes and what little money they had to give to the government mind you. Poor Charlie agreed and decided that he wanted to get back into the politics game with more wisdom and less intensity towards his friends. He pondered about Isabelle after this agreement . . . she always believed anyone who was willing to run the country regardless of their political agenda.

While he was thinking about her, he broke thought when a young man with slick black hair came over and touched his shoulder, "What would you like to do for the campaign?"

"Um, I can do phone arounds and walk door to door in my neighbourhood." Charlie noticed how the young man was looking at him with intent of listening, "And um... I can also set up signs on my lawn and get my friends to help." He was still just looking at Charlie - it was not that the young man was acting creepy as so much as he was politely listening and not taking the initiative to talk with Charlie.

The young man grinned, nodded and walked briskly back to the front desk; Charlie was at the campaign office. He stood there and noticed that the building was a bit under furnished and the floors were not swept. This used to be a sports store he thought. He paced slowly from the front of the building to the back taking notice of all the article clippings that were published in relations to all the federal election news - updates, scandals, flip-flops, promises and other mistakes or horrors that the media can grab up.

He scanned each with a sincere interest in the hype around the party leader he believed in - it was a man in his early fifties, fit and has been noted to have a home retro fitted with energy saving contraptions like solar panels. In one of the articles, he noticed the young man was standing behind the party leader and a winning smile and a large button on his chest. "Yeah, he came here two days ago. It was a surprise to us all but I think he believes we can win in this riding."

The young man interrupted Charlie with a coffee in his hand. He extended it to Charlie who thanked him with a smile, "What's your name?"

****************************

It was nippy outside. Well, perhaps to Charlie it was. He had been pacing outside his house for five minutes. He had his headphones on and listening to Norah Jones - a compilation album that was comprised with many artists she had worked with. As he shifted through the album looking for his favourite song on his iPod, he felt his stomache making wierd little twists. He simply assumed it was because he tried not to shiver - that was not an attractive quality and he wanted to be presentable. However, the twisting may have also been nerves. He was waiting for the young man to meet him at his house. This was unusual for two reasons.

The first was that Charlie has not been around the one night stand scene in a long time. He felt like he may do and ask questions that would make him feel older and thus less sexually appealling. He talked to one of his friends about this. She simply said that as long as he talks honestly as to what he likes and dislikes in the bedroom, everything will be fine.

The second reason was that he was going to court a young man. It has been a while since he looked at a man. He had a girlfriend of almost three years before he became single after she chose to run away with a folk singer and his band. Charlie doesn't listen to folk music anymore. The last time that Charlie had been with a young man was probably five years ago. This made Charlie feel even older since five years ago was also when he turned twenty five.

He breathed out and watched his air mist and dissappear with delicate beauty. It was a typical Canadian spring; it may be April but there was snow on the ground yet and the nights were still chilly. He could feel his hands getting colder and he let his body shake to try to keep warm. Why he chose to wear a nice coat that was made for summer now was beyond him. He thought about going back inside and just wait in the stairwell. He had a cell and he could simply text his date to notify that he was there trying to keep warm and dry.

Just as he turned up the paved parkway, a car veered off the mainroad and honked in Charlie's direction. I guess my ride is here.

****************************

It's been a week. Nothing awkward nor abnormal had happened since that date but it has been a week and Charlie hasn't heard from Ryce. He went over and around and above and beyond his thinking capacity to think how Ryce may have felt about that night. Crazy making is what his counsellor once told him back in college. Poor Charlie and his dumb luck struck again. He thought just this once he was going to have a decent evening with someone he liked.

Instead, he ended talking all night - dominating the conversation - and how his last relationship was a disaster and how he felt devastated and wounded. He also elaborated in great detail as to how was subjected to needy phone calls, judegment and vindictive behaviour from not only his ex-girlfriend but also her family.

After that talk, Ryce was noble and offered to listen to more if Charlie needed to get more off his chest and to which Charlie said, "Yes, I would love that." Without skipping a beat, he kept up his rant and pace and went into detail as to how he tried to go to counselling with her, tried anti-depressants with her and he even tried to be in an open relationship so that both partners can be freed from convention and the restrictions of monogamy. Poor Charlie. . . he explained to Ryce that this last attempt to make things work was also the very last nail on the coffin. Charlie went into even more detail about how this last nail also represented his last attempt at ever having a meaningful relationship with females in general.

When Charlie got to Ryce's house, it was seven in the evening. By the time the ranting and load of guilt, anger and resentment had spilled out of Charlie, it was midnight. Thus, the fooling around was reconsidered and the offer became moot. Poor Charlie, in blazing down-with-the-ship bravado, tried to kiss Ryce and swing the night into a better mood. Instead, the imagery of manly seduction and "take it when I want it" was sadly translated into Ryce getting head butted as Charlie aimed wrongly and both moved the wrong way at the right time.

Charlie paid for gas and a small thing of pain killers as apology.

****************************

Two weeks had passed and the Election Day was upon Canada. At the campaign office, it was annouced that the party leader that Charlie was supporting had what looked like a minority government. His lobbying and support was noticed in the community and he was able to hold his head high for getting the candidate for his riding a winning vote. This was a day to celebrate and Charlie wanted in on the festivities. That night, though, was fine dining experience and all the tables were designed for two people per table.

Ryce, before Charlie could think of a way to quietly dissappear from the event, grabbed Charlie by the shoulder and from behind him, Ryce whispered, "As long as I get to do all the talking and no head butting, I'll be your date tonight."

Charlie noticed how beautiful the April rain was that day.