The Bloody Doors Off

I’ve reached the age where I have More Than Enough Underwear^TM. If one gets a hole in the seat, into the trash it goes. Haven’t done laundry in weeks? You’re good a few more days.

What I seem to never have enough of. Is socks.

I have plenty of dress socks. I had to downsize my winter knits when I found my latest pair of boots. (Oh boy, they’re warm and water-resistant. And they don’t hurt my feet.)

But crew socks.

Those get sucked into the vortex, never to return.

Why am I telling you this?

I think I’m lonely.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my wife and the boy, and am happy that she and I have strengthened our bond over the pandemic (you live with someone 24/7 without a filter for over a year, you’re going one of two directions; and we made it to the Good Place). But I miss hanging out with my friends.

I miss the days when a bunch of us hung out at the first iteration of Tequila Bookworm, almost every night, until closing. Drinking coffee. Eating pie.

The conversations we’d have. Some truly mind bending.

Had my heart broken there.

Hadn’t thought of that in a long time.

It still kinda stings. A blindside, but maybe only to me.

Still loved the Bookworm. Nothing could tarnish that place.

Until they moved a few doors down and started catering to the hipster crowd. A favourite hangout where we could philosophize ad nausea, where I’d written the first draft (by hand) of my second play. I get why they changed. They catered to a market. Which sadly, was no longer us.

But my point. And I do have one.

I miss those kind of group hangs. The Council of Guys^TM (me, Scott, Sam) meet usually once a month on Zoom and shot the shit for an hour. I saw Mollie recently and we went to a movie. And Maddy is in our Covid bubble (as is my brother Kevin, and I’m gonna get to see Wayne, Donna and Larry on Friday).

Last month, five of us met up at a Danforth pub to celebrate Maddy’s birthday. I swear, I’d forgotten how to act in public. And then there’s the no salt/pepper on the table, use an app to scan the menu, ketchup now comes in packets.

But once a month isn’t enough. I know things can’t go back to the before times, but I’d really like enough normalcy that we can greet each other without masks on. Which ain’t gonna happen unless the Covidiots get vaccinated.

And we know that ain’t gonna happen.

So I gotta to accept it.

This is the new normal.