With only two events left in my first Canadian tour, I woke up early on a Saturday morning without a thought of cartoons and cereal. I had a mission: have a great match with Brian-From-The-Bar.
For whatever reason the tour matchmaker thought that this was going to be a challenge for me. I was so confident, though, that my own challenge to myself was to make it look as effortless as possible. In other words, I was going to try really hard to make it look like I?m not trying, at all.
While Sigmon was soaking his sore-for-the-tour legs in the YMCA hot tub, I had Rage Against The Machine?s Bulls On Parade on repeat as I pushed through a workout designed to clear my mind by exhausting my body. The ol? too weak to give two sh__s approach.
After the gym, we carpooled up to Selkirk, Manitoba where the event was to occur.
As I stepped out of the car, I was greeted by my opponent for the night.
?Hey, I don?t know if you remember me from the bar? Like I don?t know how drunk you were, but we met. I?m Brian Rich.? Brian Rich told me.
?Yeah, man, you had some ideas. I remember.? I said.
He seemed to see this as an opening and said, ?Yeah! I was thinking that maybe-?
?One step at a time, bro. Let?s set up the ring, then talk.? I interrupted.
His face was waving a flag of disappointment as he nodded in agreement. He seemed to be more disappointed in himself than he was at my maternal ?not right now, honey?, which made me feel a bit like a dildo; not quite a d__k but d__k-ish enough.
?I watched some of your matches on YouTube. I think we?ll tear it up.? I added.
Brian Rich?s face lit up like I imagine a young Rob Van Dam may have on April 20th at 4:20 pm, and he said, ?Solid!? (Which is Canadian for awesome.)
?So, what did you think?? He asked, seemingly wanting critical feedback.
?That we?ll tear it up.? I reiterated with a bit of humor undetectable by the senses.
?Solid.? He reiterated.
We got the ring up and as I was stretching out the matchmaker came up sporting a sly smile and said, ?Tonight?s the big night. Are you nervous??
?As I imagine I will be when I finally lose my virginity.? I replied.
He took my joke like Meng taking a headbutt: complete no-sell, then said, ?Well, he may have told you: he?s pretty over. But tonight he?s not: you?re up.?
I took his joke like Gypsy Joe taking a chair shot. ?Okay, cool.? I said.
The matchmaker laughed then said, ?I?m going to be watching this one very closely. I have a lot of faith in you.?
I wonder if Sigmon has shown him videos of me being a dildo in the ring. I thought.
Brain Rich walked up as I was thinking and said, ?You guys talking about the match??
?Nah.? I lied, then rolled out of the ring and walked off.
I glanced back to watch Rich and the matchmaker?s reactions. Rich looked like someone holding a gun had kicked his dog and the matchmaker looked like he was the one holding the gun.
Sigmon?s a dildo. I thought.
I eventually did listen to Brian Rich?s ideas and shot very few of them down. I threw a few ideas of my own out there and, as far as I was concerned (which was very little) we had ourselves a match.
As far as Brian Rich was concerned (which was very much) we hadn?t quite finished nailing it down.
?So, after that, what happens?? He asked
?I don?t know. We?ll see.? I said in my motherly tone.
?I just don?t want to mess anything up. I get nervous.? He said nervously.
I sighed, looked him in the eyes, and said as big-brotherly as I could, ?Look, bro, I mess up all the time, it?s just most of the time nobody notices because I don?t give a single reclusive f__k whether I f__ked up or not. I just roll with it. Hell, I?ve invented some sweet ass moves by f__king up other ones.?
?Huh.? Rich said, then added, ?Where?d you get this attitude from??
?Is Bob Ross a thing in Canada?? I asked.
?I don?t know. Is that a worker?? Rich asked back.
?Nah. He was an artist that hosted a painting program, back in the day.? I said.
?No, man. I don?t think we had that here.? Rich said.
I took a moment to pity the Canadian people for their Joy-Of-Paintinglessness. I thought about the bullying borderman, the barely-legal booty bouncing battle, the bad-mouthing banter for being American during the Winter Olympics? It all made sense, now.
How can I judge these poor, lost people who have never been exposed to the carefree canvas-magick of the fro?d art-bro from Florida? I thought.
I can?t.
Freedom-From-Forgivingness filled my feels.
I place a hand on Brian?s shoulder. I felt him shudder a bit. I dove deeply into his Caribbean blue eyes and tried to express through mine that It?s alright, now. Everything?s going to be alright.
?Well, he was a very wise man. One of his signature sayings was, ?We don?t make mistakes. We have happy accidents.??
He took mine and Bob Ross? words like Dick Murdoch taking a punch: he sold the everloving f__k out of it.
I watched closely as Brian ?I Get Nervous? Rich straightened up with a sunny smile that seemed to melt away the old-snow of insecurities, in that moment.
He gazed into the depths of my Dagobah swamp green eyes and said, with the intensity of a colorblind person glimpsing the World through Enchroma glasses for the first time, ?Solid.?
The match was as good as I had wanted and expected. Brian Rich was talented, he just needed a little reassurance.
As I came back through the curtain, into the dressing room area, the matchmaker was giving me this reverent look of how in the frostbitten f__k?.
I reacted to his look like Prototype Series 1000 Terminator taking gunfire.
?How was the match?? I asked through jerk-smirk.
The matchmaker took in a fresh batch of oxygen and let out a huge dump of carbon dioxide.
?Solid.? He answered solemnly.
Mission accomplished.
I looked out the snow pile blocked window.
One more day. My inner monologue said with bittersweet softness.
One more day.