After almost a month without seeing the guy and a week without word, the Can is gone.
I found a note in my once-full 30 pack of beer.
Thanks, Can. He's fully aware there's nowhere to stock back up in Iqaluit.
To tell you the truth, I'm surprised he lasted as long as he did. I kind of actually expected this. First, the man does not belong in this climate. He hates the cold. He's thrown enough household objects in my direction to convince me of this.
Second, the ball here wasn't doing it for him. He's not a slo-pitch player, even at his age... (He's not going to like me saying that.) He still thinks he's got some years left in his arm, and I tend to agree, after seeing how much velocity that chair he chucked at me a couple months ago had.
He told me he was eventually going to head back to the States, so maybe he finally did. September is here and snow is an inevitability, so maybe he was just being proactive. I can respect that.
There's another thing. I knew he didn't like me boasting on here about picking Team USA over Angola. How do I know this? Well, he beat the shit out of me over it. After I recovered, (the doctor says I may never see completely out of my left eye again) I didn't see him too much (especially from the left side). He's a super-competitive dude, but I don't think he felt very good about crunching me to a pulp. He was hanging onto some shit. Brooding, that's for sure, and it was about more than silly Olympic picks. There may have been too much to move past to become pals again.
Oil Can still has the password to this blog and he's got my digits, so we'll keep in touch. Maybe the time and distance will allow us get past all the beatdowns and such. Maybe Can did the right thing. A pretty mature move, actually.
Kudos, Can. Best of luck in your future endeavors.
I'm just going to take a quick piss, before I wrap this thing up.
Oh, Can. For real??
At least we know the Can practices safe sex...
Great.
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