Monday, February 25, 2013

Discussions over Food

"I'll make pie."


Dammit. 

This was what I got for making new friends. Especially very Dude-ish friends, which was truly, the only way to sum up the most recent entry into the mishmash circle of irregulars who moved in and out of my life. Truly this one had been met on Halloween, which was both so awesome and terrifying that I had no memory of a solid two-hour block of it. And on that fateful night, into my life entered, well, Allan Quatermain. I was fairly sure it was explained to me several times that this was not what he was going for when he set out to dress up for the evening, but I don't care. The British accent, the tall posture, and the dirty, battered leatherish hat did it for me. As far as I was concerned that costume was all Allan Quatermain. 

"That's not what I was going for, but I'll take it."

He entered with the most beautiful little Ladybug by his side, who later became known as Toy. 

"For you," she said as she stuck a little heart sticker to my face. She had many a little heart sticker to pass out on that night, and whether she had intended to or not, she had passed out quite a few heart stickers then, if only because she was the kind of presence that stuck to the heart, making a little blip there, a space for herself and not leaving. 

(Those little bits sticking in the heart are all the more poignant at the moment since she is so far away, a tragic separation I know all too well as I try not to dwell on my far-away boy, and one with just as close a finite deadline and date of return.)

Since Halloween, the door was opened and closed many times, bringing both the tall lanky one and the Toy in and out of daily interaction. Dinners, lunches parties, etc...etc...Such a long time had passed now. At a recent dinner when all our other plans fell through I announced to Allan Quatermain that I was going to write about him. 

"I'm thinking of calling you the Bolivian."

"Oh, it's one of those anonymous sort of things is it? Protect the guilty?"

"Not, really no. It's mostly that I'm going to write about you whether you like it or not, and since I don't ask permission, I figure I may as well give you some sort of protection."

"Fair enough, but why the Bolivian?"

"Seemed like a sort of thing." Honestly it was because I listened to so many stories about Bolivia, and honestly I would neither tire of them nor be dissuaded in the telling in any way. If anything, the talk of Bolivian sunrises on top of hostels and working in shady bars with a transient expat community made me want to go to Bolivia.

"Still doesn't seem quite right. Why don't you call me the Dude?" The fact that we share a love of The Big Lebowski was not lost on me. Neither was the fact that when I first watched The Big Lebowski he was all of ten.

Fair enough, actually, and it did suit him. However, even after discussion, he came into my life as Quatermain, and it stuck, so Quatermain he was.

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