Big Fat Hairy Living

Southern Ontario is quite pretty to view by train.

The train left Union Station at approximately 4:15 for the first half of the trip, I was able to see everything beside the train: suburban ticky-tacky housing developments, southern Toronto and Etobicoke, and some very pretty fields and forests. At one point, we were atop the Niagara escarpment, and looking out the window, I was able to see the lights from hundreds of little houses as we passed by a town I couldn’t identify.

I arrived after 6:00, and met Sean at the London Via station. I have to admit that I was surprised by downtown London, because it doesn’t look too different from downtown Toronto, considering the fact that it’s an order of magnitude smaller. There are many pretty old buildings, some mid-rise office towers, and even two skyscrapers. Sean lives in a cute house on a street near a market, a bakery, and the Thames River.

It was really good seeing Sean again. I’m sure this sounds corny, but I’d missed him after only 10 days away. He’s fun to be with, and really great to snuggle with. His body is the perfect combination of size and furriness; I think it was designed to be cuddled up to. We had a dinner of pizza and garlic cheesy bread, watched a show called 21C and then retired to the bedroom where we talked about international politics and the situation in Afghanistan.

I’ve been thinking about romance lately.

Some people think a romantic evening somehow revolves around things like candles, incense, and lying in a hot tub with a top hat on. Romance has nothing to do with a candlelight dinner (romantic until you have to clean the dishes), jacuzzis (which dry your skin out and then freeze you to death when you step out), or similar idiocy. (Note that romance also has nothing to do with often and publically proclaiming your love to those who don’t care.)

Artificial props or situations just get in the way, and inevitably a large amount of time is spent on setting them up which could better be spent on other things. The focus should be on each other, not on top hats, candles, or dinner. To me, the ultimate in romance is sleeping in the same bed with my man, turning over, placing my arm around his furry belly and snuggling up close to him.

I met Seumas at the Senior Steps where we chatted a little bit. It was getting cold, so we headed back to my place where we had further discussions about geopolitics and international banking. Around 9:00 we headed for dinner at the Coco Peanut, where Seumas started feeling sick and threw up — luckily, in the washroom and not over himself. Fortuntely he felt better after puking. After that bit of excitement, we had to head back to my place to wait for Iain to come pick him up and return him home.

An excellent day. Except for the puking.

I met Sean at my work last night, and we went to nearby Memories of Japan, something that, as a sushi lover, he really enjoyed. After that we returned to my place where we cuddled and watched an episode of Iron Chef.

It came from the 1971 Sears catalogue.

This morning I had my performance review with my manager. Much to my surprise, he rated me “Met all goals,” which surprised me, since I was expecting him to rate me as a “Did not meet all goals.” I was truly shocked that he gave me decent marks, considering that he chewed me out just a few months earlier and told me that I come in late, leave early, and don’t do any work. Well, I’ve been a little bit better about work, but I guess it made a good impression on him, because he said that I was doing a much better job. I think the fact that the anonymous peer feedback survey I got was universally positive put him in the right mood.

Last night, Sean arrived in Toronto. He got in a little late because of car and traffic troubles. We cuddled until 1:30 in the morning. He’s just so cute and so cuddly. He has such a sexy body, and the most incredibly cute face.

From the letters section of Metro Today:

It leaves a bad taste in my soul when I think of the innocent people in Aghanistan having to suffer because of Osama bin Laden and his group. What do we need to prove? This all seems like racism, and at this rate, peace may take eternity. To me, it is peace that enables pink petunias to blossom.

Pink petunias?

I haven’t read a single letter in Metro Today that didn’t sound like it was written by a retarded 12-year old.

I’ve got the perfect gifts for the two virginal asian internship students who used to work in my department.

I just bought train tickets to London, Ontario. I’ll be there from December 30 to January 4, visiting a certain kinky bear named Sean. I’m all excited.