True Romance

I've told this story about a thousand times to my friends (including the new one I just had lunch with today) and they're tired of it, so now I'll foist it on you.

After my first winter in the Yukon, I found myself single and bored out of my skull. The population in the town I was in is limited in the winter, and the men had all taken a pact not to shave until the river thawed. Apparently they had also made a silent pact to eat nothing but fat and not exercise, and needless to say, romantic prospects were slim.

Then one day in March, the ice in town began to melt. Spring fever was upon me, but there was still a very limited supply of men. Depressed and lonely, I went to drown my sorrows at the local tavern. Suddenly the doors opened and in walked the finest example of the male species that I'd laid eyes on in months. I looked at my friends, whose jaws were dropping, and said, "Dibs." Everyone knows that when you call dibs it is set in stone. Hot man would soon be my man.

Jacob was French Canadian and younger. He didn't say much, but he laughed at all of my jokes and loved playing pool and drinking free draft beer all day in the bar where I worked. And he was good in bed. Other than the sexual attraction thing though, I began to realize we didn't have much in common. But he was SO pretty. All the women in town were jealous. If only they knew how hard it was to pretend I was interested in anything he had to say. And he was always around. Always. Just sitting there, smiling and drinking and playing pool looking pretty.

Jacob hadn't found housing in town yet--there was a shortage for summer employees--and so he was literally living in a van by the river. I'm not kidding. Because of that, we spent our evenings at my place. Usually we would do something mellow, since by 5 or 6 pm, Jacob was full of draft and my shift at the bar was over. We rented a lot of videos. Well, actually, I rented a lot of videos, because I was the one with the house and the job. And I rented a lot of things that made Jacob's pretty eyes glaze over.

Finally I realized that Jacob's taste in movies might not be the same as mine, and I felt a bit bad. So I said, "Honey, tomorrow night, why don't YOU choose a movie you would like to watch, and you can come over, have a hot shower, I'll make a good dinner and we can have some wine and watch YOUR movie." Jacob seemed very happy. Oh hell, he always seemed happy, but maybe a little happier than usual.

So, the next night came. I cleaned up the house and lit candles. Jacob came over and got in the shower while I did something crazy like season a ham or something. I was so pleased with myself, pottering around in my kitchen in an apron like June Cleaver, making a man meal with meat and potatoes. Jacob, now fresh and clean, settled into the living room and I called, "Just go ahead and start the movie without me, dinner will be ready soon!"

Suddenly he shouted urgently, "CATTY! CATTY!" That's how French Canadians say Katie. "CATTY--You ave to come ere!" It sounded so important that I nearly dropped the lemon meringue pie I'd pulled from the oven. I rushed to the living room in a panic, wondering what the problem could be.

There sat Jacob, bare feet on the coffee table, bottle of Kokanee in his hand. He leaned forward and pointed to the television set, and said forcefully, as if he was telling me the most important thing he'd ever uttered:

"DAT is da raison I grow my air long!"

I was confused. He was watching Highlander. HIGHLANDER. Highlander changed his life.

Oh my God.

And then I felt sad. Because at that moment I knew that I had to break up with him, no matter how pretty he was, and I was going to be stuck with an entire ham to myself.

The gauntlet has been thrown down, or whatever the expression is

That's it, Egan--tomorrow I am writing stories. Ha!