Four years ago, I was in Canada doing yet another winter season in the ski fields. Unaware at the time, but this trip was my last to Canada and boy was it a good one. I had the best time of my life that season and got up to quite a bit of mischieve.
Here is story four, one moment in the season of all seasons.
One friend I had made this particular season, her and I had developed a close friendship from the get-go. We found each other easy to talk to and rather quickly created a haven for anything to be said between us, this solidifying the friendship. I found her extremely interesting, as she did me. She was a gay artist who loved to create pictures, sculptures and necklaces with wires, stones and leather. She exuberated this cool, calm, no fucks given kind of vibe. She was slightly damaged yet harboured a positive, hippy-ish mentality. I was undeniably intrigued by her.
When we met, I was casually seeing a handsome Scottish man; she was with her girlfriend of 2 years. The more time we spent together, the more she and her GF grew apart. It was not long before her, and her GF broke up. Most nights, she would come to my house to hang out with the crew that lived there. I lived with seven others, all of us the best of mates. On the roof of the house, you could lay in a nook and look at the stars. One night my friend and I were up on the roof looking at the Northern Lights flashing when I started to feel this undeniable electricity between us. I knew she felt it too. It was at this point the friendship shifted into another realm.
I was due to leave in three weeks.
We spent the next couple of weeks hanging out, as usual, drinking, partying and squeezing in random adventures. Though nothing sinister was going at any point, you could still feel the chemistry. I knew she wanted to kiss me, and there was a part of me that wanted to kiss her.
A couple of nights before my departure, we decided to chuck a party once again. My friend and I spent the night locked at the hip, trying to maximise our last few days together. We had spent the night in and out of the party, socialising then finding solace in our own company. Halfway through the night and guess with the thought of my departure lingering, she followed me into the bathroom. As the door closed behind her, she grabbed me pushed me up against the wall and kissed me. Her hands held my head with her fingers entangled in my hair; she then explored my body. As her hands reached buttocks, she picked me up and wrapped my legs around her waist. With my back pushed against the wall, we kissed. As she put me down, her hands undone my belt. She slid her hand slid into my pants; then there was a knock at the door. In the blink of an eye, she let me go stepped back and opened the door. A drunken german stumbled in, and we quietly walked out.
Four days later, I flew home.
A few friends drove to me to the airport, including THE friend. The whole way there we tried to lighten the mood by joking about how we should turn the car around, so I didn’t have to leave. At the airport, we all said our goodbyes. The goodbye between THE friend and I was a prolonged one. We promised to keep in contact, and we did for a while.
Here’s what I want to say to my friend, and I guess, also myself –
I am sorry that I had to leave. Even though I identify as a straight female, I was curious to see what was going to happen next. I’m sorry that a year ago, you tried to reach out and I never returned your message or tired to get back in touch. I’m still unsure as to why I chose not to respond. Finally, I’m sorry if I played a part in you and your GFs breakup. The break up may have been coming, but I still get no satisfaction in thinking that I could have been the tipping point.
In this occasion, I also need to say thank you. Thank you for being such a rad human, thank you for being one the highlights of that trip. I will remember all of our wild stories, fondly.