The Lights Were Definitely Twinkling

I told myself this year that I would only drink once a week...

I also told myself I would be celibate...

Can confirm these goals are not going well.

In the last 5 years, in alignment with the time I haven't had my blog posted, I had been envisioning my perfect life. And my perfect life meant that I had all the things I wanted in life because they were right at my fingertips. Whistler and Tofino being the most prestigious of them all.

My trips to whistler started out to be a party and a lot of fun and over the years, it dwindled into a very anti-social experience and just a way to get fresh air, a good steak and to sleep.

Tofino had the opposite effect. I used Tofino to really see nature, get into the water and rest and this time around, it was NOTHING but...

This trip to Tofino was a pleasant surprise and the story of how I met Uncle Art.

My usual antics for Tofino all start out the same. I leave straight after work, sleep on the ferry, stop for groceries and a coffee before I keep going to the motherland. I arrived about 4pm, got some very important Tofino specialties and slept. I woke up the next morning, played in the water then went out for a burger. And in walks Uncle Art.

If I were to compare Uncle Art in reference to National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, it would be incorrect, however the lights were definitely twinkling. He's very much a granola, would likely wear his Birkenstock sandals through to the ground type guy, all of which is an instant turnoff for me. However, he didn't have dreadlocks and in fact was balding and smelled very good. So my turnoff to this? Perhaps a reflection of past decisions cause the second this guy started talking? I was instantly intrigued by the ease of this banter.

Conversation with Uncle Art was unbelievably easy. Comfortable. Like he was your goofy, intelligent best friend and could even challenge you a bit. I was ahead in beverages throughout the night and it was evident as the night went on.

After the bar banter, we left for him to show me around where he works. We attempted to play a game of pool, have a beer (in which I could hardly choke down) and... other things. He told me that he was going to be at the brewery at 5/6pm and to meet him there. I absolutely agreed in my drunken stupor.

I got back to my campsite and crashed in true, post-coitus fashion with my hand in a bag of mini eggs and an open bag of tortilla chips, solo. Waking up the next morning having much regret but even more intrigue about the night before. I did stay in bed for a good chunk of the day all for the fact that I was in fact either still drunk or having consistent "oh fuck me" moments while reliving the evening in my head. I read back on the text message he sent and I went back and forth on whether I would be making an appearance to the brewery or really, if I did, how fashionably late I was going to be. The only thing that continued to ring in my head, or rather in the depths of my broken soul, was that "I am a slut". It was a title I thought of myself for a long time, solidified by my "worm"y ex boyfriend who reminded me of this weekly in an abusive fashion. And in all this ruminating and stewing, I arrived at the brewery at 605pm on the dot.

Uncle Art saw me at the door and waved me in and I found myself a seat a few seats down the bar. He was chatting with his boss so I took my time, got a beverage or two and then made my way to him and his boss. His boss and I had a bit in common so we were able to chat some, while Uncle Art took care of things and met me at the end. I finally sat down next to him and the first thing to come out of his mouth, "I'm surprised you came." Me too bro, me too.

We ended up hanging out 2 of the 3 nights I was there. First night, definitely was way more spontaneous and unexpected, however, in amongst the real true talk of where we both were in our lives (from what I remember) I cried, laughed and never been kissed so passionately from someone I hardly knew. That first one literally shocked the shit out of me, I truly didn't think I could ever have my heart in both my vagina and my chest beat like that again. And this felt like it was the truth. With him, truth was all we spoke. There was absolutely no reason to speak any other way. We both had nothing to hide.

The second night felt even more raw. He had concerns that the small town rumours would start for the mere fact that I was this chick on vacation and here for a good time and not a long time, and he wasn't about to turn that down, per the noted reputation. As a matter of fact, he even told me that he was a bettin' man when he sat down next to me at the bar the first night. The night at his place was almost too comfortable. Taking advantage of different surfaces, in bed, out of bed, and walking around with not a single piece of fabric on our bodies. Finally landing on the couch where the comfort of just the unlimited amount of time we had made it simple. I literally sucked his dick on the couch for an hour and I enjoyed every single minute of it. It never once felt like a chore. I'm sure I told him about 10 times that I was worried I was going to break it and he reassured me every single time that his manhood was in fact strong and will not break. I also told him I was concerned cause he wasn't getting there and I felt like I was failing. He reminded me that it wasn't about him getting there, it was the fact that I enjoyed it that made it so good for him. He looked me in the eye after holding my neck and kissing in a way that the heart in every single corner of my womanhood beat and told me "you're beautiful". I pointed at his yellow submarine, knowing it had done some deep sea diving that evening and screamed, "IT MOVED!" I was not afraid to be myself and I can tell you I had never seen such a beautiful man in my life. When we got in bed, he gave me a fair warning. He was going to snore and he was going to grind his teeth. All of which happened almost instantly and didn't prevent me from going to sleep while snuggled right in the nook.

We have kept in touch very minimally, which being I have only been home a week? I think that's fair and I don't expect much otherwise. He said several times that the girls in town called him a slut and to be honest? A) they are girls not women and B) he's not Fabio but he has more personality and charm than any type of wormy man I have ever dated so I hope he rides that train longer until he finds what he's looking for. I have been overthinking a lot and semi-spiraling only for the fact that something like this I would have considered the old me and one that I was ashamed of and the one that my "worm"y ex boyfriend was also ashamed of. My people closest to me tell me that I am allowed to do anything I want and there shouldn't be any regret. And even though I am spiraling a little bit, I know there is a reason Uncle Art came into this very blurry picture of mine. And even reflecting back on such a fun time in Tofino, it was not only unexpected but also a fresh of breath air, a moment that I have learned from. I looked at many of the men in my life I have had relationships, even more so my most recent and very abusive relationship and its proof that looks mean absolutely nothing and that its personality that makes a person so beautiful that you can't take their eyes off them. I remember just laying in bed with Uncle Art and frankly, even though he was snoring and grinding his teeth, I don't think I had ever met such a decent, kind man in a long time, if ever. Its proof that taking the superficial way of dating doesn't compare to the authenticity of an in person, random meet and greet that makes the moments and stories fucking cool. And realistically, those moments are much of the reason why I have a blog in the first place.

Cheers to you Uncle Art. Thank you for showing me what true beauty in a man can look like but also the beauty of being completely, authentically myself. You picked off a scab and its not bleeding...