Frida met Steve in a fender-bender on a Wednesday morning, corner Papineau and Viger. She was heading North, he was going West. Both claimed their light was green. Probably one of them was right, but it didn't really matter. The damage was done, and it wasn't much. They promptly moved the fully functional carcasses to the same side of Papineau Avenue, out of the way from rush hour traffic, then met in front of Steve's pickup truck for the traditional joint report, before exchanging details, and that was it. Next time they saw each other was on opposite side of a room temperature Shiraz, about two weeks and two blocks away from their initial encounter. Because Frida soon called Steve, citing some obscure and insignificant detail regarding insurance coverage, he felt compelled to suggest they should date, and that was that.
Their next meet up was at the founding event of the Canadian Party, for which Frida was the main inspirator as well as the aspiring leader. Steve, who really was an apolitical blank slate, seemed a little clueless during the gathering, while decidedly playing along. As being totally invested and enamored in regard to the burgeoning relationship, he couldn't help finding himself quickly colonized by Frida's views on politics, among other things. An experience he would eventually consider as life changing, from both personal and professional perspectives. As Frida was already engulfed by all things politic, and because her feelings for Steve were steadily growing into a relentless crescendo of torrid passion, she did her best lifting Steve's profile at her side, a gesture from which he would soon profit from.
Steve had been a construction worker up to that point. A self-employed dry wall specialist mostly active on industrial and commercial job sites. He couldn't care less about politics and social issues, as he lived alone, worked hard and entertained a twisted fascination with some online self-help communities. Everything about him revolved around the concept of absolute efficiency, as he was always carefully calibrating all food intakes and dietary supplement dosages. He was really after some idealized blissful but elusive state of wellbeing as he carefully balanced his perceived bodily functions for maximum output. Or so he thought. Now, he just found out being only one minor traffic accident away from a most complete life makeover.
One thing was obvious, and it was how Frida seemed to have been touched by grace since she crashed into Steve. It was like she was finally levitating, raising on top of everyone and every situation revolving around her. Politics really are strange people. Some like Frida are moved by ideals, glimpses of clear vision comforted by shared impressions and carefully erected policy wet dreams that could only work through massive but soul crushing social bulldozing. Others are just opportunistic agents of chaos, sycophantically making their way toward big payoffs, as status quo slowly erodes, giving way to new arbitrarily elaborated choke points. All work hand in hand toward some greater future illusion.
Together, Frida and Steve will soon crash into the Canadian political landscape, in ways they just can't quite foresee or comprehend at the moment. The thing is, there are other forces at play, here and there.