Peter Pan and Wendy

I met Gregory in Halifax last Monday when Moira and I were looking for a bar where we could have a couple of gin and tonics.

He was waiting for some friends on the street, so Moira invited him to join us. They were friends already. The first thing I noticed about him was that he spoke to both of us, not just Moira with the occasional sidelong glance towards me.

Halfway through the first round and a long spell before the artichoke dip arrived, I whispered to Moira, “he’s not afraid of me.”

She whispered back, “Greg’s not afraid of anyone.”

Most of her male friends, you see, couldn’t even make eye contact with me. Moira had built me up so much through her stories about “Sheila from Tennessee” that they were all a bit daunted by my presence. A few cowered when I was reluctant to engage them in conversation and a few more were speechless after I told them a particular anecdote about a friend of mine (I was forced into it, albeit gleefully, like a performing monkey).

Greg left after finishing his beer, throwing down a ten spot (pennies in America, but enough for a second round for us two girls in Canada). I asked Moira why she wasn’t dating him because he was the first one she had introduced me to that made any sense.

Her eyes widened. “You like him.”

“Of course,” I said, “but it’s a non-issue. I’m leaving in a day and a half. You should go out with him.”

The little yenta called him the next afternoon and invited him out for dinner with a small group she was organizing.

I inadvertently sat next to him at the restaurant (he had marked his territory---the chair---with his jacket). Afterwards, the lot of us, plus a few extras and minus Moira’s mother (I had brought her along with me as a surprise---a nice one, I swear---to Halifax), met up for drinks. Greg and I continued our earlier conversation (human motivation and behavior mixed with patriotic quips about the other’s country) and parted as I walked Moira and one of her housemates home.

As soon as we got home, I called him. I told him I wasn’t through talking to him. He said he’d come over.

We talked and kissed all night, starting on the front porch and ending up on the couch and eventually, the rug.

Gregory wasn’t afraid of me.

betholindo at 6:20 p.m.

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