Johnny and Jan

This is the third installment in a series about the men who keep a place in my heart. Read about Oscar from Sweden here, and Anders from Denmark here. (And make sure you read the comments after Oscars post)

Jan from Canada.

I have just graduated from High School. My hair has just been blue, orange, and is now supershort (thanks Mum for trying to cut all the orange out). I am in total bliss from finally being set free from the shackles of I.B. (anyone who has attended that programme knows what I'm talking about). I'm free. If only for a month till I move to Australia.

My cousin Tom is visiting from Montral with his mates Phil and Jan. As per usual we shack them up in our cabin just five minutes from where we live. During the week it's up to my BFF and I to entertain the guests.

And entertain we do. Drinking and playing records into late nights. Laying on the grass and fishing in the fjord during the day. Without realising it I'm drawn to Jan.

And it's all the cute stuff. Holding hands. Laying close. Totally knowing that it can't last. Being all of a year older than me Jan decides we have to break it off before it gets too serious.

Tears.

And after some expert drama on my behalf we spend the rest of the week together in tragic love.

Me? Overly romantic? Noooo.

He leaves the country wearing my jacket and holding a poem I'm written about us.

To this day I can't listen to my Johnny Cash in San Quentin record without thinking about Jan from Canada.


Next time: Matt from Australia