love of my life

I met Paula at a hockey party. I played for a few years with this particular gang of guys. We partied together a couple of times a year. Ours was a game of pickup. In Canada we call it shinny. It's played without referees or visiting opponents. We choose sides and just go at it. The group was full of highly educated men who fancied themselves the perfect blend of intellect and machismo (that would be the Greath White North kind of manliness). Many in the group were actors, writers and artists. Conceits were rampant.

Having women at one of our hockey parties was unusual. The guys called a girl who called some girls. Paula tagged along with her mates. I fell in love with her there. She and I sat in the living room sipped drinks and chatted about art and astrology. She was from London Ontario. New to Toronto and alone. Totally single. No boyfriend baggage. I was in the middle of a plot to leave my wife and abscond with my son. I kept that story and its sordid details to myself. We parted with a slow kiss and a tight warm hug. I liked the feel of her in my arms. An athelete, 5' 10". I didn't speak to her for another 7 months. I waited till I was separated, situated and sane again. It was an honorable courtship. That was almost 20 years ago. We started well and now we're beautiful.


I took my son that summer. I consulted a medium after the marriage meltdown. He explained to me that Paula had been my brother during Biblical times. Interesting endorsement. I was hoping for something more like my Queen, from our days of Atlantean rule. But we do fracas like siblings.