Missing the Rama

Remeber how I said we'd delve into my past? Well today we do. As I walked down to my usual perch on the Starbucks patio I happened to run into two of "those girls" [those girls are the classic Village girls: Lululemon, Louis Vuitton, work for their parents as receptionists] and I immediately wondered why I spend so much time in this godforesaken place when I hate most people in the Village. Actually for all practical purposes I come here because of the free wireless internet... But I also realized I came here because I miss coffee; coffee and sitting in coffee shops had quietly become a giant part of my life at McGill.
I had spent most of last semester sitting in Arts Veggierama, a basement hole of a cafe, in the Arts Building at McGill wallowing in self pity after being unceremoniously dumped by my emotionally frozen and physically unwell boyfriend, whose last comment to me involved a non verbal physical shove in front of Leacock. Thanks M Brad.
So thus began three months of me hanging out in the Rama, which culminated in me actually picking up someone in Veggierama. As a joke I began calling this boy - another third year history major, classic - The Rama. The Rama and I commenced a short relationship involving of two dates and a couple of fools before the Rama - a committed bisexualist - declared that he couldn't emotionally open himself up to me. So me being the idiot in lust that I was [did I mention that The Rama was really smart, funny and hot? and that I freakishly pictued us adopting a dog and living in the Annex together?] befriended the Rama... and so we spent most of April becoming besties and non-sexual boyfriends, which in retrospect I really enjoyed and needed. After the M Brad, the Rama's sexual insecurities were decidedly normal. We did the classic date activities: movies, getting stoned, walks through Parc Lafontaine... which culminated in him admitting to me that he calls his penis El Presidente and then showing up drunk on my door a couple of times, but after I would shove my tongue down his throat, he would argue that "just because I show up on your door drunk doesn't mean I want to fool around." Well... were is the Rama now? The Rama as part of his enigmatic structure is off in Northern Alberta working in an oil transfer station, alone. Hopefully comming to terms with his sexuality and realizing, mid masturbation, that I'm hot and would make an awesome boyfriend. Being a stupid romantic I wrote him a letter as he left for Edmonton stating that, "he made my heart flutter at a time when I didn't think it could flutter again." To contextualize, the Rama did admit that he wanted his heart to flutter before he entered into a relationship, this of course was stated right after he declared that Howie Day's 'Collide' was 'our song'. Yes we were like sixth grade lovers, we had a song and we held hands. I suppose it isn't worth psycho analyzing the Rama... but it is worth stating why I sit here at Starbucks... After last semester I became used to drinking coffee and waiting for that bisexual pretty boy who could do a damn funny impression of LBJ, while drinking a large Veggierama 'Strong'. At Starbucks, I've now got the coffee and I'll admit it is a lot better then dirty dirty Veggierama coffee. But I don't have the Rama... and the Rama was worth the dirty coffee. He was smart, funny and had a stupid lopsided smile that would make my day. I miss the Rama.