Berri-UQAM

Prophecy of the Pot-Head Forums

This was my third time to Montreal. But this time was different than the last. This time, I decided the week before I wanted to hop on a bus and get out of town. The tickets were on sale that Tuesday and I needed the time away. I arrived at Union Station half an hour before the bus was scheduled to leave. I had taken them enough times to ignore the request to arrive an "hour prior to departure." I stood at the end of the line, off to the side. I wanted to smoke a spliff before I got on for an eight hour drive. As I looked out into the line, I could of swore I saw Ben. His bushy jewfro and slender but toned physique convinced me that it was him. I was surprised to see him at Worcester's Union Station. It's pretty far from Northeastern. I started to yell out to get his attention. He ignored me. It bothered me. The bus pulled up and the ticket man came out to check people's tickets. Someone tapped the guy on the back to alert him to the fact I was calling out to him. He pulled out his headphones and turned around and looked at me. When I saw his face, I knew it wasn't Ben. He looked at me with a facial expression that looked both confused and pissed. I mouthed to him that I had the wrong person. I was relieved. I didn't really want to see him after how things ended. When it came to my turn I handed my ticket and passport card to the ticket guy. The man scrutinized my card and compared with my ticket. He looked back up at me.

"So you're "Mordechai Sinclair". You don't look like the guy in this picture," he said skeptically. I was surprised he said that. No one had ever told me that before. I was the same tall, brown haired kid from Worcester. The only difference between that picture in 2012 and now is that I shaved the long hair and lost some weight.

"I mean, I have my State ID if that helps," I offered to him. At this point, I was anxious he could tell I just hit a spliff. He smirked at me, "Nah, you're fine," and let me on the bus. After everyone was on board, we left.

On the bus I had eight hours to sit and reflect. I thought about Ben, as I stared at the back of that guy's head. We hung out a bunch of times and hooked up a bunch. I figured we were getting serious. I met his friends and his parents. I'd smoke him up when we hung out. No one had ever formally dated me before, but I had been with a lot of people. I was pretty sure I'd know what love was when I saw it. I saw it with Ben. But I guess Ben didn't see it. One day, I caught him making out with some genderqueer dope head at Pride, I was pissed. I didn't know if etiquette allowed me to punch them in the face, I knew I could punch Ben, if I wanted to. So I went up to him and tugged on his arm.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?", I said.

"Look, it's not what it looks like," Ben responded. His speech was odd to me.

"Please, I'm pretty sure it is what it looks like. It looks like you're making out with some random dope head and you don't give a fuck. Even though, you knew I was coming to pride."

"So maybe it is what it is, who cares? We're not a thing. So we fucked a few times, get over yourself," Ben said to me as he ran after the being he was making out with.

I never talked to him after that. Some of my friends tried to convince me that everything was ok. Someone told me that right before they were making out they saw the two of them snort some orange liquid out of a vial. I didn't pay it much attention. Drugs don't justify cheating in my book.

I couldn't help but replay the whole thing over and over again in my head. It reminded me how much I needed to get away. Masochistically, I checked to see if we were still Facebook friends, which we were when I checked the day before. He deleted me. I knew it was over. I texted my friend Sam on the way to Montreal explaining my woes,

"IDK wat I do to make guys just leave me and pretend we were never a thing. it sux."

"Well, don't sleep with them on first sight. Guys don't respect you when you're quick to bed. He'll only see you as a booty call."