Jian ghomeshi dating
I don’t remember us discussing my career—like most beguiling solipsists, Jian had a way of drawing the conversation around to himself.
TV wasn’t working out for Jian, but there was another way up the greasy pole.Any lingering sexual tension had dissolved from our relationship by this point, and an easy camaraderie remained.Jian’s two main modes of communication were flirting and talking about his work, so now we were left with one.He owned two houses, one in Riverdale, which he rented out as an income property, a fact I found mind-bogglingly impressive in my 20s. He got a taste of fame in Moxy Früvous—jiggling his ringlets as the band busked on Queen West—and now he wanted the same thing but on a bigger scale.The other property was an enormous, modern loft-like townhouse in Cabbagetown, where he lived before moving to an even bigger place in the Beach. He was determined to have establishment credibility.For all his weirdness, Jian was excellent at making connections.
In addition to being persistent, he was funny and clever and surprisingly thoughtful. Mostly when we got together—a handful of times a year, either at a media event or for a quiet dinner—we’d talk about work.
At the time I met them, in a café on the Danforth, they were selling out mid-size venues filled with NDP supporters in itchy Ecuadorian sweaters. Jian, the band’s drummer and singer, was a weedy-looking guy, about a decade my senior, with a penchant for winking after his jokes.
I spent an amiable hour with the band, listening to enthusiastic and semi-delusional talk of their enormous Grateful Dead–style following and imminent U. He went out of his way to weave an odd mix of earnest liberal values and sexual innuendo into the conversation, referring to the band’s “pinko politics” and then telling me the story of his new favourite “superfan”—an exotic dancer named Moxy who stripped to their song “Michigan Militia” in a combat outfit.
Even back then he enjoyed flipping back and forth between politically correct and sexually inappropriate. Reading over my piece 16 years later, I noticed he was the only one of the band members who got much ink.
After the interview, the band dispersed and I ended up walking and chatting with Jian.
It became a standing joke between us that while I’d rejected his advances when we first met, I was now no longer in his preferred demographic. He was a wolf in organic, fair-trade lamb’s clothing.