A Boy From The Home Team

After the ‘one sentence’ emails from my testosterone-sweating alpine suitor, imagine my delight receiving three coherent paragraphs from Homeboy. Not only did he use paragraphs, but he masterfully utilized commas, periods and the odd semi-colon. Semi-colons are tricky; not everyone uses them wisely. Homeboy even asked me about my work. He was clever enough to end that sentence with a question mark.

Check this out.

HomeBoy posted a picture of himself standing on a vacant grassy bluff. Behind him is a vast blue body of water. The caption reads, Retiring in Panama! I read his age and he’s too young to retire, but upon reading the rest of the profile, it’s evident he has exciting plans for the future and he is looking for a woman to share it with.

Always looking for adventure, I wrote:

I’ll pack my bags! Nice profile!

…and waited for his reply.

We wrote back and forth and I discovered that he is from my hometown in another province. Upon further digging we realized we attended the same elementary AND high school. With trepidation, I asked for his last name and he asked for mine.

It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He knew my surname, however, and responded immediately with:

Is your brother’s name Kevin? He used to work for my dad!

It was bound to happen. Wouldn’t that be an interesting end to this relentless search for Mr. Right? Imagine…walking down the aisle with Jerome, the geeky kid with ears like Dumbo’s, acne that plagued him throughout junior and high school, and one of the many guys I arm wrestled and humiliated during lunch hour.

I called my brother and asked if he remembered him. He did.

“I was in Grade 10 when I worked with his dad at the elementary school. He was the head custodian and me and another guy were his helpers. Yeah, I remember his dad. He used to take his false teeth out and lick them. Unforgettable.”

“But, what about Jerome? Do you remember him?” I persisted, trying to get the licking image out of my head.

“Yes I do. I remember he was a good worker.”

That’s it. A good worker.

I then called my school chum, Elaine, who still lives in the old neighborhood and asked if she remembered Homeboy.

“Yeah, I think he was that funny looking, skinny kid who had a mustache back in Grade 4,” was all she could come up with.

Finally, I had a chance to speak with Homeboy on the phone. I liked his strong, confident, masculine voice very much. It sounded like a voice of power and authority. We talked at great length about our formative years in that Northern prairie town. We reminisced about the outdoor skating rinks and the cold winter evenings.

After we hung up, I closed my eyes and the image of that rink came clear.

I recalled the crunch of my boots in the snow as I neared the lights and the rink surrounded by boards. There was a net to keep the hockey pucks from flying loose in the air. I could hear blades scraping the ice, the sound of the puck hitting the boards, the laughter and yelling of the skaters from a distance. Music from the outdoor speakers lured me and my friends, and the excitement would build as we approached. Inside, the wooden building smelled of wet socks and chicken soup from the vending machine. I remember pulling on my figure skates and lacing them tightly. A boy, Kelly, would hover around me and I knew he’d be flirting as we circled the rink and played Crack-The-Whip. I was back on home ice.

“You know, Adrienne, I just signed onto the dating site the day your email arrived. In fact, I was reading your profile when I saw you wrote me. And here you are – someone from my hometown. Maybe I am Mr. Right?”

That would be amazing. Here I am, the triple-digit coffee dater and the man for me is a guy who sat behind me in math class.

I indulged the fantasy for days after our first phone call. Of course, being the woman that I am, I thought about life in Panama—the easy life—with Homeboy. He was a man who could obviously support me and had a lot to offer. But nothing is ever that easy, and fantasies are just that.

Days passed without a call, and just when I was about to file him under ‘D’, for Disappeared Into CyberSpace, he phoned.

to be continued… of course. xxx AM.

 

A Boy From The Home Team © 2011 Adrienne S Moody. Read the latest Adrienne exploit on Now.readthisplease.

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