Missed Connections: The Boy on the Bench
It was one of those beautiful summer days in 2009, the last official summer of my undergrad, where waking up on a Tuesday morning meant the only responsibility I had was eating, bathing, and meeting up with some friends later that night for drinks. My best friend was spending the week on my couch, because... why not. The city was on strike so I was out of a job. She went off to work. The only thing that made sense to me was to listen to some great music and go explore the city. I put on my (then) favourite playlist, a punk mix I titled "sick shit", and throw on something that made me feel great. Black short overalls, a tight white top, and my favourite neon yellow sandals; I was out the door with a book and only good things in mind.
I ended up at Trinity Bellwoods. It would be a year before I started to create some new memories in this park, but for the first time ever I felt like I was young and alive and surrounded by a city that started to affect me in ways I've never experienced. I was independent and I was making my own choices. I carefully picked a bench sitting directly off a paved path under the trees. Every moment was planned. I knew what I was doing, and yet... I didn't know for certain.
I would read one paragraph, no, maybe one sentence and stop. I couldn't peel my eyes off what was around me. People talking, fitness everywhere, distant laughs. Myself, looking around, letting my mind wander. Trying to figure out my place, really. At that time I had just gotten out of a bad relationship. A relationship where my very definition of love altered. But that week and specifically that day all of a sudden I was filled with a new air and was ready to absorb.
I was sitting on the far right of the bench, as close as I could to the arm rest both fully using it as something to lean against and an as open invitation, out of will, for someone to sit beside me. It was soon after that I noticed the boy on the bench to my left. A large tree made it difficult and yet easier to keep tabs on him. He was also alone, with a kick stand and a book. Now I was splitting my time pretending to read, watching the tight rope walker set up, glancing over at this mythical dark haired boy in plaid, looking at the trees -- and repeat.
I don't even remember how many hours we sat there, independently in silence on our benches. We were chasing glances just as much as we were literally chasing sunlight. The shade was starting to get cold, and I wanted to dance with him. I picked up all of my belongings and moved to the picnic table on the other side of the path. It was in the sun, and if this means anything, the picnic table what the third point that would make up a theoretical triangle between it and our two benches.
He knew. I could feel his eyes on me and I knew when he was reading he could feel mine. As I sat willing him to speak with me, a young and less in tune kind of guy walked right over to me and asked me for a lighter. I'm a non-smoker who just happens to have one. He lit his cigarette and stayed, initially starting a conversation about the usual, but mostly he wanted to hear himself speak. Which is fine... I'm not afraid to listen when someone needs/ wants to be heard. He gets a phone call just as I notice the boy on the bench change. He's getting ready to leave. And then he rides away.
For a second I sort of snap out of whatever this Seurat painting-esque situation was, and I remember why I'm really here. There's a performance by Yoshinori Niwa and I came because I wanted to be apart of it.
I don't remember if it was that night, or perhaps the following day seeing as I would of likely had to come up with an ever better idea of how to top this day, I wrote a missed connections ad on craigslist. This whole world was a world I've barely even casually browsed let alone taken part of. But I wrote one, very elusively, knowing that the key to the puzzle was his mention of the guy on the tight rope.
Lying in bed. July 17. 2:46 a.m. "Oh my god" "What?" "So... I wrote a missed connections ad because I had this really weird experience with this guy in the park. Like we didn't talk but I felt like we both knew we were there. Anyways someone just responded and I swear its him because he said exactly what happened." "Oh what. That's crazy." "Seriously."
