The Denouement

Every now and then I feel somewhat self conscious about posting on this blog because I know my parents will read whatever I write. A friend once expressed surprise that I was willing to write about supposedly scary things like climbing around on a stationary chairlift, given that it might freak out my parents. After many years of that kind of behavior from all three of their children, of which I am the youngest, I am confident that they are accustomed to such exploits. Besides, driving my van around is vastly more dangerous and terrifying than anything else I have done in Canada. Instead, I am concerned that my parents will look upon my exploits in other fields of life - like work, friendships and specifically humor - with consternation and disapproval. This is one of those times.

On Wednesday night, Operation Date Maud's Hot Sister concluded with a daring foray into enemy territory. Given the extensive groundwork I had conducted at our date on Tuesday night, and my sense of missed opportunity at having not "made a move" (whatever the hell that is) during our romantic drive around Whistler post-dinner, I planned a decisive final step in my wooing.

As described by live tweet, while Marie was distracted by one housemate (Robi), Maud and I stole the white roses I had given her when I arrived and laid a path of petals up the stairs and into Marie's boudoir. I also found some candles and light these in strategic locations on the stairway and in the bedroom. Then, Robi and Fleur triggered an exodus from the living room, claiming to be ready for bed, and put some Barry White on the stereo (which, thankfully, could handle his resonant baritone voice). I'm not quite sure how it all worked, but somehow this was enough to get Marie out of the living room and near enough to the stairway that she realised something was afoot. With increasing embarrassment, she climbed the stairs and entered her bedroom to find me lying on her bed, tastefully clad in a bathrobe (probably also hers) and socks (definitely mine) and surrounded by flower petals. Her response was to laugh uproariously and throw her small fluffy dog onto the bed, which killed to mood somewhat. She did later promise to remember the experience forever, which I am choosing to take as a compliment.

Having "made a move" sufficient to cover for my cowardice in the car the previous night, I resumed my pants and left the room. Mission accomplished.

There are photos, but they're quite alarming, and in the interests of my parents I have wisely placed them on twitter where anyone who wants to see them will no doubt find a way to track them down. I am trusting the confusingness of the internet to insulate my parents from what might be a fairly traumatic experience.

With my work in Whistler completed, I left town yesterday to return to Penticton in the sunny (LOL) Okanagan region. It is, of course, dreary and miserably here today. The van refused to start in the morning, which would have made for an awkward additional night at Maud's Hot Sister's house, but thankfully it roared to life in the afternoon and still seems to be running OK despite the damp conditions.

As an aside, the whole Maud's Hot Sister thing has had a remarkable effect on readership of this blog. The Operation Date Maud's Hot Sister post has finally replaced the post about Dave Pitchford as the most read entry, which was sad on several levels. And on Thursday (my time) there were more page views than the whole blog got in any of the months from August (when it started) to December 2011. Thanks everyone for your interest and moral support, it kept me going in those tough moments where my sense of dignity or financial prudence seemed likely to triumph.

Finally, if anyone else has a hot sister that needs to be romanced by a socially awkward and romantically disinclined man, let me know. And don't say Tom's hot sister, because I know her and that would be creepy. Hilarious, but creepy.