Since the beginning of my serious dating career, I have had what girly magazines refer to as a ‘type’.  Tall and skinny, pale with freckles, dark hair, and names that begin with a ‘J’.  Of course, there’s been other letters in my alphabet, but ‘J’ is the one that starts the names of the most influential males in my life.  ‘J’ is for jackass, or jentlemen.  ‘J’ is for Josh, Jimmy, Justin... Jay.  Whichever way that you look at it: influential.

The first time I said ‘I love you’ it was to such a male.  Joshua Lee McCleary, as fun to say out loud as it is to doodle hearts around or add a ‘Mrs.’ is front of.  It’s a name that sort of whispers itself off your tongue before you can snatch it back, or scream loud enough to distract yourself from realizing it’s been said; and by yourself, of all people!  He was such a whisper himself; tall, pretty and convincing.  His eyes were the remarkable shade of memory, and even now I can close my eyes and see them because that’s just the colour they were.  I myself have eyes of varying shades; winter grass green; chocolate pudding brown; an undertone of piss yellow.  I’ve been told they change colours when I cry, which I did a lot of over the precious Joshua Lee.

In the beginning he referred to me as ‘his favourite girl’ saying my hair smelled like white chocolate, lavender and marijuana, but in reality these phrases of endearment lasted only months.  Two months and two days to be exact.  Squares on my calendar, marking my first day of school, and my admission to Heartland serve as the start and stop points for the train wreck that was me and him.

We met through friends, however long and winding the connection was.  Sam, my best friend, liked this guy called Kyle who hung out with Brandon who introduced us to Jason and Keith who said we should meet Josh.  

Our first date as a couple was to the movies; we saw Without a Paddle.  I love that movie with every iota of my being, because from what I saw of it, it consisted mainly of sweet, clumsy hand-holding, and an awkward arm around me.  There was the occasional disruption by Seth Green and Matthew Lillard, but even those were humorous and enjoyable.  To our ‘date’ I wore a slouchy grey skirt, not suitable for sitting in theatre chairs, so when we exited, the overbearing memory is that of extreme paranoia; thinking he’d catch me in the act of ungracefully covering my slightly exposed hind-end.  

In conclusion Jason saved my life from a spider, Sam and I watched Thirteen twice and Empire Records once, Keith said he loved Sam after having met her just that night, and I stayed up until five in the morning talking to who I thought was going to be my saviour.

Like most train wrecks, they start like any other trip, without an inkling of knowledge that you might soon be dead or flaming in the debris of what once was a good thing. You don't have a clue, through the beauty of all the awkward touches, the gained comfort as you settle into the seat, the relief you have when you can finally set down your baggage.  What started as an adventurous runaway may end in a failed attempt at self-awareness.