thirty paws down my spine

A collection of compliments I’ve received from an array of homeless, sexy, drunk, foreign, strange, and incredible men

“I wasn’t interested in you, until I found out you were crazy” - Sometimes I wonder if this boy can read my thoughts

“I dig your style and you” - The jerk off I walked in on, naked, with my friend

[Note: this one wasn’t meant to be a compliment]

“You’re wildly inappropriate” - An American who was uncomfortable with skin

“It’s unusual that a girl of your caliber can hold a conversation” - A theatre actor who had the same intimate relationship with Neruda

“I was like you when I was young.  I smiled and breathed life.  Then I did too much acid; I fucked it up.  Please, don’t fuck it up, for the both of us.” - The homeless musician who sang for me on Friday nights

“If you don’t become my wife, can we be the best of friends?” - The Brazilian who proposed on the first night and wrote for me

“Jillian, you understand the fucking darkside” - The one I travelled back to 1973 with

“If It happens like that, it usually never works out. I was afraid of that. I felt that we made a real connection. I really wish I wasn't the only one or I would feel ridiculous. I feel so different when I think about you, more than anyone I’ve ever known. I really didn't want you to leave, but knew it wouldn't happen.” - The screenwriter 

“You don’t understand how lucky you are to have white skin” - Sharing a joint with the Brazilian rock star

“Jillian, your mind is so sexy, it overrides your hair colour” - The man who told me he didn’t like blondes, but continued to go slow

“One day people will just look at us and we’ll be speaking made up words and laughing.  I did have this strange thought while reading.  I grabbed your hand in a hotel hallway, like I was going to show you something.  I was leading the way, but I didn’t know where I was taking you. You asked me what I saw.  I looked at you and said, ‘colours, splashing out’.”  - The one who has my mind and heart splattered across the wall

personals >m4w

It’s incredible how things happen. One day I’m conversing solely with Nabokov, the next I’m Penny Lane and backstage smoking a joint with Seu Jorge [this story is for another day].  Whether or not I choose to believe it, lately, things have been happening for a reason.  

Some of you might have heard about my heart-stopping encounter in Montreal a few months ago.  I met someone I was immediately smitten with and at the risk of sounding like a desperate WASP from the Bachelor; we had an ‘unmistakable connection’. Ick, I already regret typing that.  Why was I so drawn to this person whose name I didn’t even know?  Was it the mix of adrenaline and three too many gin and tonics? Was it working in my blood?  Call it butterflies or ‘zsa-zsa-zsu’, regardless, I was hooked.  

We danced, we kissed, we talked and we kissed some more.  What’s strange is that our paths have crossed before.  Mystery Man from New York, had gone to a few music festivals I had been to in the past.  I wanted to know more.  I mean, how many sexy, smart, traveled, electro-loving, music fest-going guys are there in the world? Okay, probably a lot.  But, what are the chances of me meeting one on my much-needed escape from Ottawa?

If I were wearing x-ray goggles, I swear I could have seen the sparks flying off our bodies.  Every tingle, touch was anticipation.  The concert was drawing to an end and I figured we would continue our evening at an after-hours or whatnot.  The venue began clearing out and in what has come to be one of the saddest events thus far; we lost each other in the crowd.  Damn it. 

I returned to reality, sore from dancing, but with stars still in my eyes.  I couldn’t stop thinking about this encounter I had.  I mean, I’ve met interesting characters, that I truly was interested in before, but I usually choose to scoot off with my girlfriends, rather than exchange digits with them. Why was this guy setting up camp in my head? Around mid-terms too.. bastard.  

I reassured all this doubt and regret with the notion that because our paths have crossed before, if it was ‘meant to be’, we would see each other again.

-two weeks later-

Eavesdropping in class: “Yeah, she totally found this creep on Craigslist’s”

My sister: “People post Missed Connections for people on campus!”

Saturday Night Live: “Pedophile’s Network; Missed Connections”

Me: “What the hell are Missed Connections!?”

One fateful morning: I was on my last lazy excuse why I shouldn’t get out of my nest of duvets and decided to check out Missed Connections. As I looked into Montreal’s network of missed connections, I turned bright red with embarrassment.  Did I actually think there would be something on there, for me? 

My heart stopped.  There between a missed connection with a transexual and a ‘hot as fuck girl with tinkerbell tattoo’ was a posting for me. 

 It’s very, The Shop Around the Corner meets In Search of a Midnight Kiss. I can’t deny the serendipity of it all.  It’s 21st Century romance, and I am into it. 

This connection isn't missed and is still in motion today.