There are times, a person comes unsolicited into your mind, capturing a part in your brain you never asked them to navigate freely. Right now, I find my thoughts going to the Biomedical Engineer. Which, is truly bizarre. Then again, I felt such synchronicity and a catalyzed result from crossing paths with him I truly needed. I listen to this song I love, although there are many, certain ones loop on repeat certain hours, certain days. Tonight, is the Midnight Cowboy’s time to loop, by John Barry. I highly recommend you look it up, right now. Actually, go here. If John Barry sounds familiar, he did a bunch of songs for James Bond movies between the 1960s to 1980s. Oh how I love James Bond movies. I have added in “Far From Any Road” from the True Detective theme song (god what a good show) by the Handsome Family here. There, that is how I feel. That is how he makes me feel. Albeit, nobody can make you feel anything, but I think you know what I mean. Now, I want you to feel the way I do right now. Unbeknownst to him.
I can always tell what part of my life I was in by certain songs I come across in a playlist of mine. Certain songs stay long term. I’m talking about you, Coma White. I never listened to The Midnight Cowboy until the last several months, and Far from Any Road was a few years ago, back in my hardcore pole dance training days. I miss that. I miss them. Hence, I am not quite sure why this reminds me of him. Neroche is undoubtedly tied to him, as I have mentioned before, he introduced me to them and they have been tied to my soul ever since. When I listen to it, I don’t think of him though. I think of myself. I think about listening to it while giving a guy a blow job in my friend’s place while she was out with her boyfriend, and spat his cum into a cup on her coffee table. I might be a horrible guest at times. Or, well used to be. She’s a horrible cat owner in my failing attempt at excusing this. Her place was also when I got obsessively introduced to Casefiles and, in my opinion, the best true crime podcast. I love that the host is anonymous and I am low key entranced by his voice. Anyways, we’re here to talk about Mr. Biomedical Engineer, not the random guy. I can’t even remember his name. I just know he had a cool jeep and brought me to the ferry once, or was it he picked me up? I can’t remember.
In this moment I can only think that thinking about the Biomedical Engineer is nothing, in fact, to do with him, but more so what he represents or represented to me. A part about me, that is needed to transcend something…right now. He was handsome, and there are many handsome nerdy guys out there. He was strong, there are many strong men out there. He was weird. Lots of those, absolutely. Hiding a secret, yeah, no thanks. He had a tattoo, love that, but again, not that. Music was a thing, between us, random songs that were his favourite, that happened to be completely tied to my soul as well. Ahh, Wicked Game came on once, it was this remix, he thought I had snuck it onto his music. No, I hadn’t. Perhaps you notice by now I love my sad, sad girl songs. Sad makes me happy. There are people you come across you know nothing about, and perhaps should know nothing about, yet are forever entangled by some sort of essence. Some people you know a lot about, and are bonded by trauma or shared interests. Others you thought you knew inside and out, yet, they never existed. I think he is the first one, and it is quite alright by me if it is one sided, as we had enough weirdness between us in the brief moments we flashed upon one another. It just makes me so fucking sad, not the good kind of sad, not the thoughtful moments, philosophical kind of sad. I wish I knew what it was that made me sad. Because it isn’t him inherently. If I figure it out, I will let you know. For now, it is a mystery for me.
It has been six years, I think, I am trying to remember my hair colour. It has changed so frequently, that is generally my gauge as to what I was doing or whom. Yes, I am capricious, fickle, a flight risk, impulsive, gun shy. Although, none of that matters as I am content being house bond most of the time, quarantined, babying, working. Whatever may be. I was blonde, honey blonde in a long transition from ginger to become platinum. Sigh, that didn’t last long. Living in my most beloved 1940s house with two roommates, the ones who fell in love there, got married later and now live down the street from me. Six years, yes, it was then. Mr. Biomedical Engineer was really into women’s rights. Love. That. Something on the University campus about women and he had a pin he wore. God, he had horrible fashion. So many men here seem to wear plaid. The Canadian way is plaid. Plaid. Plaid. Plaid. Redneck plaid. I don’t mind it actually.
He loved flowers, as I do, too. He brought me to the most beautiful park I would ever dreamt even existed in our city. He did weird impulsive romantic things, the only other person to do that sort of thing was the first sociopath I ever dated ten years ago. Story for another day. He looked like Johnny Depp in many ways from the Secret Window. Mr. Biomedical Engineer and him both have glasses. For whatever reason, 80% of my boyfriends or lovers, or something have had glasses. Is this a requirement? Apparently without meaning to. You can be smart with contacts, you know. I don’t even have a glasses fetish and I find them a bit annoying to work around. Loved his voice, I do have a heavy voice fetish. That is a make or break for basically everyone I go near. Perhaps too much weight is given on the voice fetish, but regardless, it’s my thing. I will say, very rarely do people get into my head. I shake them out before I ever thought of inviting them in. I shake them out before they even realize there was a chair for them, perhaps, in the first place. But again, it isn’t specifically him, something symbolic about him or something I am forgetting about myself my brain is trying to remind me of. I LOVE film-noir and neo-noir, he introduced me to his favourite movie, Brick with Joseph Gordon Levitt. Going back to The Midnight Cowboy, I probably should watch the movie, and I do love anything from the 1960s or about prostitution.
I hope I find a path from these intrusive thoughts around Mr. Biomedical Engineer, and find the part of myself calling out. Pika had used to say to me she could taste my sadness when I was melancholy. Taste my sadness.
I wish you could have seen the way she looked at me when she would say that.
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