THE MEET

I met LumberJack in my living room one June day in 2010. At the time, I was living with An Eccentric, so this was how I met most of my favorite new characters. You see, she collected friends like she collected suitors, and she went through suitors like tissue. This meant our apartment was a revolving door of former models, wannabe designers, art-affiliated hobos, busking musicians, and couch surfers. When I arrived home at midday there were six people there.

(1) My roommate – with ombre hair that faded from oily espresso roots to crisp red ends. (2) Her boyfriend – an eternal optimist, constantly getting chewed apart by his gf. (3) His friend – gangly skinny and falling apart at the seams of his dirty denims. (4) A co-worker wearing his shades inside. (5) Co-worker’s girlfriend, who looked like a bunny. (6) LumberJack – solid, unshakable, and magnificently tall.

During this hang out sesh, LumberJack’s background emerged. He was a 6’6″ pure protein built Alaskan man, equipped with a long beard and massive paws callused from wood work. Turned out he built custom crates to ship art, so he passed the minimum hipster quotient. LumberJack wore a flannel and work boots despite the heat, and he smelled like campfire. There’s a psychological theory out there that 90% of people who believe they found their soulmate actually just found an agreeable person within 5 miles of their base geography. So, obviously, this was love at first sight.

THE FIRST DATE

LunberJack asked me to go out for a drink and I told him to meet me at the bar on my corner. Cozied in the over-stuffed leather chairs, we sat having a sipping whisky. At some point, I offered to fetch the next round, and I went to the bar to collect refreshed glasses. Upon return, I found LunberJack just as I’d left him, except now he was dead asleep, eyes closed, snoring. So, I had two problems:

1) I’m apparently a total snooze cruise / snore bore.

2) I had a sleeping giant that I need to dispose of pronto.

All of my experience with giants came from folk lore. My options seemed to be: tie him down a la Gulliver’s Travels, steal all his gold coins a la Jack and the Beanstalk, or kill him a la David and Goliath. I checked my handbag and couldn’t believe I forgot my slingshot at home. So I settled for the next best thing: I pulled him to standing. But then tiiiiiiiimberrrrrrrrrrrr.