"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.
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.
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