As far as bachelor parties go, Rob’s was a low-key deal. Seven of us in all. Half were from out of town, so we drove to Kingston to meet up.

The first stop was Aaron’s dad’s house. Parked in his driveway was a 1980s Lincoln Continental Town Car, before they started to downsize the series. It’s a massive car, with what looks like a complete couch in the back. As the coupe, it wasn’t even the full-size model. This is the only car that pimps teal.

Most of the day was spent giving each other welts in speedball, which I learned is a testosterone fused version of paintball. All speed and all accuracy. I wasn’t used to a lack of conventional cover (in favour of inflatables), or the small playing area, but managed to survive without any body hits.

Of course, being his bachelor party weekend, we had to put Rob on his own team, though he didn’t quite find out until it happened. This follows the tradition of other fraternizing celebrations, such as birthday beats.

It was back to the hotel to get changed, and off to Rob’s favourite place to eat, which was a Chinese buffet. It also happened to be Chinese New Year, so they had an entire roast suckling pig, though no one else dared to try it until I assured them it was safe.

More time was spent back at the hotel, in the hot tub, playing poker poker, breaking electric heaters in the exercise room.

Before leaving the next morning, we went across the street to the conveniently placed Golden Griddle, an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet for the gluttonous masses. I’ve never been one to get their money’s worth out of buffets, but I’m sure that Rob and Aaron more than made up for my relatively small portion. I can’t imagine putting such lead into my stomach every weekend. Unlimited bacon and sausages should be reserved for bachelor parties, business contracts, and maybe the occasional bris.

Drinking was limited; Rob was still recovering from strep throat, as can be heard in the videos. More energy was spent making sure Sergio had a successful blind date; a testament to how much Rob takes care of his homies.

This week, I received a small package from Brenda and Jack.

It really touched me. Not because of the amount of things in it, but because of what was in it.

A T’ai Chi handbook. Dark, thin chocolates; my favourite kind. A chopstick rest in the shape of a cat. They even put money in a red envelope, following the Chinese tradition of wedded couples giving money to the unmarried. Everything in a red bag with red wrapping paper, the Chinese colour of luck. This isn’t their culture, but they’ve made the effort to understand it. They probably had to go out of their way to find this stuff, things which aren’t available just anywhere.

I’ve done nothing to deserve this.

The funny thing is that Brenda and Jack are the parents of an ex. I can hear John warning me, “They laced the chocolates with arsenic”. I’ve been fortunate enough to get along with the parents of many of my girlfriends. I used admit to Pat that I wish they could replace my own.

These are people who know me and my interests.

More than my own parents ever did.

Bronwen is my original muse. We happened to meet shortly after I got my SLR camera, and ever since, she’s my primary model when doing photographic tests and experiments.

These were taken over the course of about a year. From before we started dating to passed the break-up.

Every angle captures a different side of someone.

Looking back on these reminds me of how much I miss it when she had red hair, which she dyed for me (but didn’t like to admit it). Too bad I can’t convince her now to do it again.

I decided to privatize the profiles in my “Old Boys of ‘99″ series from now on. Much like this blog, the series was meant to be a sort of memoir, a way for me to reminisce about the past. A low-key deal.

One of my fellow Old Boys found out, and it appears that word-of-mouth is spreading like wild-fire. Visits have increased considerably as links are being e-mailed back and forth.

I never thought that I made any kind of impression on anyone at Upper Canada College, or that anyone I went to school with would actually care to see what I wrote. Evidence of this fact is that I only keep in touch with two people from those days in high-school.

This is a first for me. There were a few times that I considered password protecting my posts, simply because I thought certain things would be too embarrasing to admit or talk about, but I’ve always forced myself to be honest and open.

This series, on the other hand, is where I’m honest about other people. Some of them took offence to what they read in one entry. They lashed out at me, because they didn’t like what was being said.

They’d rather live in denial, or stay oblivious about what other people think of them, and can only cover it up with anger. I’ve made the decision that it’s best for them not to know.

Those who know me well will know the password. Those who don’t may apply.

The Old Boys of ‘99 Series

1. Introduction
2. Another Perspective
3. Seeto and Bunston
4. Mungovan and King
5. Providing Ignorance as Bliss
6. My Perspective