Christmas Season

I had a really good weekend. Nice Guy and I cooked dinner for 8 of our friends and we gave out presents and most of the people brought their dogs with them so we had a really full house hold. Nice Guy is an AWESOME cook, I've gained 7 lbs since we started dating. If I'm alone I'll just eat something quick and easy for dinner, cereal or brown beans and toast. But if he's over here I feel like I have to make an effort to give him something decent and whenever I'm over there he always makes something awesome, usually from scratch. He steams vegetables and stuffs and cooks a chicken himself. The only way I can serve chicken is the ones that already come pre-cooked and still warm from the grocery store.

I tried working on the present for Nice Guy's brother today. I was getting discouraged but I like what I accomplished today so maybe I'll get it done. Our Christmas is next Saturday since I'm flying home to my family next Sunday, and I'm hoping it'll be done by then, but I doubt it. When it is finally done I'll take a picture and post it on here. We ate the leftovers tonight (which were SO good) and then cuddled and watched a movie. I hadn't seen Knocked Up before but now I'm concerned about having a family one day. I'm all for raising the kids and whatnot but I do not like the idea of labour, especially since they actually showed it. I DO NOT want my down there parts to look like that. *shiver*

I decided to drive home tonight since the weather was bad and I didn't want to be rushed tomorrow when I have to go to work. Before I left though, Nice Guy insisted that I wait in the house and he would scrap off my truck. Aww..... Really the only bad thing that happened this weekend was my dog puked in the backseat on the way home. He's sleeping with his head on a pillow now though, hard to be mad when he looks so cute and innocent.

Cynic

So chocolate making at Nice Guy's aunt's house went well. Apparently he's been making them for about 10 years and they are AWESOME!!! We didn't get much done though because his aunt really wanted more of a social visit and used chocolate making as an excuse. So there was LOTS of talking and a bit of TMI about some serious subjects. Which was extremely uncomfortable but what do you do when the woman is 73 years old? But overall it was a nice visit and if I'm still with him next year I'd be willing to do it again.

Last night I was making blueberry buttertarts (I suck at cooking but I'm a good baker) with a friend and she was asking me if things were going well with Nice Guy and did I think we'd keep moving forward. And I told her things are good, we like the same things, we're supportive of our differences and he really loves me. She said "You can totally tell he's really into you". And it made me think back to a few days ago when we were walking the dogs and he looked at me and said "You're sister was right." and I said "About what?" and he said "You are easy to love." Which made me feel good and sad at the same time.

I think I've figured out a little more about my cynicism. It's not that I feel like I shouldn't be loved, it's that I feel like love isn't enough. I loved and was loved for 6 years and it ended in us not speaking anymore. I used to believe that all you need is love but clearly that isn't the case. So what else is it that you need? I don't know. Love is important but it's not everything, and until I figure out what else I need, I don't feel like I can be emotionally/mentally committed. Not that I'm going to cheat or anything, just that I can't promise forever.

A Plan B Type of Girl

I am a planner. Some people might even describe me as a schemer. But I'm basically a Plan B person. I need to have a way out. I need to have a fall back plan. It's how I got through school and most of my life.

For example, if I absolutely totally f-ing bomb this midterm and my grade is reduced to rubble, what's my Plan B? I'll have to get a 85% on the final and if I can't do that I can retake this class at Summer School and be able to devote more time to it. Given that I can decide on a Plan B I can live with, the stress of having to succeed at Plan A is taken away and I usually accomplish it anyway, never actually having to rely on Plan B. I did this all through school from Grade 9 almost all the way to finishing my Masters.

But I'll let you in on a little secret. I also had a Plan C. And that Plan C was always "if I make a complete disgrace of myself and somehow fail every single subject and it all stops making any sort of sense, I can always become a house wife". I had placed my entire future on my Ex, and I did this for years. If shit hit the fan, I was just going to leave it all behind and let my Ex be the bread winner. My parents and siblings would be disappointed, but I was willing to live with that. And there's where I wasn't characteristically me. I had no Plan B for my Ex. It had never occurred to me that our relationship would ever end. I had a head over heels, love conquers all, all you need is love, it's us against the world mentality.

Which brings me to the other type of person. The No Plan B people. These are the type of people who you can not make aware of the Plan B. If you tell them a decent Plan B, one they could live with, then they completely give up on A or may fail to try as hard as they would have otherwise, because Plan B seems to look pretty nice compared to the stress of Plan A.

If two No Plan B people get together, it's one of those relationships where they may fight a lot and become very passionate about things and you may sometimes wonder why they're even together. But their relationship lasts for years and years. These people can have an enormous amount of love for each other. These are the people who stay together because it never occurs to them that they could be apart. Unless one day, one of them becomes aware of the Plan B, and it doesn't look so bad.

I was a No Plan B person when it came to love, and then Plan B was sort of forced upon me. I became very aware that I could and would have to live without my Ex. Which brings me to today. I am now a Plan B person when it comes to love. I am always seeking a possible way out with Nice Guy. For example, I was thinking (just thinking mind you, not actually considering or planning in any way) about what it would be like to move in with Nice Guy. Where would we live, how would it work? And I decided that he should buy/rent a house and I would pay him rent, that way if we broke up I could just leave. I decided against me buying property because he had llamas and chickens and things and if I'm living by myself, I don't want to have a big farm to take care of. I find myself thinking, if I want to end it I can, but I'm having fun and things are good and I really don't have any complaints. But if something really starts bothering me, I am willing to end it. I think...

So I'm not sure how I feel with being a Plan B girl when it comes to love. It could turn out really well, given that I almost never actually have to resort to Plan B. I could live my life with prenuptials, separate bank accounts, and names in books and movie cases, in case of the event of a breakup, and by giving myself an out, have it never actually occur. Or I could be sabotaging myself, if I'm making it an option, I may wake up one day and decide it might be pretty good, especially given that I'm already set up to handle it. I guess we'll see...

Any Man of Mine

So I haven't posted in a while. Sorry for that. I still haven't told Nice Guy about my blog and he's around so much that I don't have the time to write privately.

I made him dinner tonight. Let's just start off by saying I suck at cooking. I totally suck. I would not survive in the 1930's. I made him eat freezer burnt hash browns (which had the flavour of cardboard), microwaved broccoli and cauliflower (which was a little rubbery but otherwise the best part of the meal), and I managed to burn both sides of the chicken wings. He insisted that it was fine and the burnt parts just peel right off. I made him take the leftovers for lunch because I couldn't bear to see them again.

My dog is in a competition in a couple weeks. He does Rally Obedience but we've also been practicing with the Scent hurdle team. I was extremely pissed off last week because our captain said he wasn't ready yet but we've been practicing since about April and I think he's more consistent than some of the other dogs. We had a practice on Sunday against another team and he did so awesome that now I feel good even if he doesn't get to compete.

I started painting again as well. Nice Guy's brother saw the butterfly that I was working on and ask me to paint him a picture. He takes wildlife photos and so I got Nice Guy to steal some and I'm going to try to replicate one with acrylics. We'll see how it goes. If it's done and looks good by Christmas I'll give it to him, and if it looks like crap I'll just get him a shirt. Or maybe a tie.

I had a Halloween party at my house. Nice Guy and I were both mad hatters and I dressed my dog up like the white rabbit. Then I decorated my dining room like a tea party. Each tea pot had a different shot in it (Swedish Berry, Crispy Crunch and Bazooka Joe) and the little tea cups were shot glasses. Then at about 10 we all went out to the bar and danced.

This coming weekend I'm suppose to go with Nice Guy to his Aunt's house to make chocolates and truffles. Apparently it's a yearly tradition. I'm not sure how much I like this aunt. She's fairly nice but she says some things that get to me. Like the last time I saw her, she attributed the goodness and kindness in Nice Guy to the fact that he was raised religious. It was all because of the church that he turned out so good. And since I wasn't raised religious at all I felt like it was a dig at me and my parents. I don't believe that a religious upbringing is required in order for you to grow up to be a good person. I am most likely over-reacting but I feel like she isn't completely straightforward with everything she says. So we'll see how making chocolates goes. Luckily she doesn't live very close so we barely see her. On a good note, she rescues dogs and we are welcome to bring our dogs to her house. So I don't have to find a babysitter for my dog when we go there. Hopefully I'm wrong about her undertones and I'll end up really liking her.

Life is an Adventure

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. ~Helen Keller

When I first started writing this blog I figured I'd have a bunch of dating disasters to write about and a lot of free time on my hands. Turns out I've really hit it off with Nice Guy and we're always busy. Which I love but it means I don't get my laundry done and haven't been grocery shopping in quite some time... On the plus side, he likes cooking for me. He made me egg plant parmesan and rosemary chicken breasts the night I got back from a week long business trip. He had also cleaned my house for me and left me flowers in my kitchen and my living room. I'm very spoiled...

We were hanging out before we had to go to a Thanksgiving dinner with friends so we went to check if the bakery in the little town that he lives by was open, we were suppose to bring rolls to another dinner the next night. So he showed me the main street of his little town and we did a little window shopping. We were looking at a display window for a place he thought used to be an art gallery, but the sign said it was closed. Just as we were walking away a little man came around the corner and opened the door and asked us if we wanted to come in and check it out. So we followed him inside and it turns out his name is Gerry and he restores stained glass windows. Everything from churches to medieval castles. With church windows the glass is made so that when the light hits it, the light bounces around and it appears as if the window is glowing. With medieval windows, the glass is made so the light passes straight through and becomes whatever colour and appears on the floor. He showed us all the things he was working on and how he came to be in this small town. He retired from Toronto but I guess he's too skilled to actually retire because people keep sending him work.

This is what I love about Nice Guy. We don't have to be doing anything and it's always fun. There are lots of activities to blog about but I just haven't found the time. We went back and made cranberry sauce from scratch, which was thrilling for me. I spend every thanksgiving growing up slicing off a piece of red jello that still had the shape of the can it came in. Side note: my mom is a great cook but she doesn't have the patience to make EVERYTHING for Thanksgiving, her gravy is to die for though. We also made parmesan butternut squash. I wasn't sure I would like it but it's actually very tasty. He also told me I was beautiful when I wasn't wearing any makeup. He's got a lot of brownie points racking up.

If You're Happy and You Know It

I came home the other day to find this on my fridge. I start work earlier than Nice Guy does so he just goes out the back door in the morning and it locks behind him. It's been almost three months since we started dating. I think I have done more things with him now than I had ever done in 6 years with my Ex.

I think it's making my girl friends slightly jealous though. I've been trying to hold back in telling them all the stuff we do because I don't want to get their guys mad at me. For example, I didn't tell them about the note. But I did mention that he's taking me to this expensive restaurant tonight (that I LOVE, the food is SO good) which they promptly mentioned to their guys that they never get go anywhere, let along that place! Whoops...

We've also been floating down the river, searching for treasure in an old shed, having dinner with a bunch of different friends, and watching movies. He helped clean my house for a Games Night that I had. We went to the fair when it was in town and he won me a teddy bear. We've been fishing a few times and he got me my own rod and tackle box. He likes holding my hand in church (I go because it makes him really happy to have me there but he understands my religious views).

*clap clap*

On a side note: I really miss my family. I went to a Sister's Tea today with some of my girl friends but it just made me really miss my sisters more. There was a mug that almost made me cry. So I bought it for my sister for her birthday. Luckily I get to fly home in a few weeks to see everyone. Oh happy day!

Religious Thoughts

I think I'm an agnostic. Warning: Religious views ahead that you may disagree with.

Do you believe in the death penalty? For the sake of argument, let's say you don't. So now let's think of all the murders and rapists and terrorists just sitting in cells all day. We've agreed not to kill them, so how do you feel about torturing them? Day in and day out. They've done something bad, so they don't deserve to have it easy and it's not like they're going to die. So what's a little torture? Maybe break a few fingers, let them heal up and then break them again. Or ripping off finger nails, those grow back right? Chinese water torture? Anything goes as long as they don't die. I'll assume most people would disagree with the torture.

Now what if a family member did something bad? Your mom or your dad. Maybe a sibling or possibly your own child. Heck, it could even be your dog or cat. Even if it was really really bad I would think most people wouldn't want them subjected to torture on a daily basis.

Which is why I'm questioning religion. We are all God's children, he created us in his image, gave us life and all that, you would think that means we a fairly dear to him. If we aren't willing to torture really bad people, people we may even hate, how can we think he would send us to hell for something like homosexuality, coveting thy neighbour's wife or working on a Sunday? And I say torture because hell is for eternity, there is no sweet relief of death.

I don't think it matters whether you think there is or there isn't a God. I think you should be a good person and be kind to others because it's the right thing to do and it makes society easier to live in. Life is hard all on it's own, we shouldn't be trying to make it harder for anyone. Whatever you do, I would think that God would love you anyway. And if there isn't a God, then you left behind a functional world for future generations and I thank you for not inducing a terrifying apocalyptic world while I'm still on this earth.

Also, I'm pretty sure I'm already screwed in the heaven department. According to wikipedia one of the commandments says "You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me". So I'm out since my mom doesn't believe in God and I don't think my dad does either. In fact I'm pretty sure my dad thinks that a bunch of aliens put us here as a game, each alien betting on a different racial group to see who would come out on top. It's like an unbearably long game of Monopoly. The apocalypse will be when one of them gets fed up and throws the board across the room.

Weird Dream

Last night I had a weird dream. There was a woman who had about 15 dogs and named them all after movie stars. One of them was Mickey Rooney. She was showing me and someone else (it might have been Nice Guy??) this house and there was a room that was kind of like a horse barn except there were beds and pillows and mattresses in all the stalls for her dogs to sleep on. After that room whoever I was with and I went exploring on our own and found a little study, very old fashioned with bookshelves and a writing desk and dark green high back leather chairs. A door to the study opened up to what I think was her bedroom, but it was a very old fashioned and manly looking bedroom. Didn't really have any feminine touches. We left and went to another room which is where my dream actually gets weird. I think it's the dining room. The room is mostly floor to ceiling windows and a stained wood vaulted ceiling. There's a fireplace in the corner and a big table with 8 or 10 chairs around it. Then the floor is like patio stone with a race track pattern in it. Like if you moved the table, little kids could take their cars and play for hours on this race track made of stone. And the thing is, I've dreamt about this room/house before. Except the last time I dreamt about it, the house was totally empty of any furniture.

I've never seen this house before, but this is the second time I've dreamt about it and I can remember very specific details about it. I just feel very funny about it.

Staying On The Bridge

I feel really good about this staying on the bridge thing. I had another awesome Saturday with Nice Guy. We took the dogs with us to the lake and did some fishing and some reading. Then we went to his parent's house and had dinner and played games with his brothers and parents. They're a very close knit family and you can just tell that they all love each other very much. It's a very happy positive environment.

I think that because I was so sure that I would always be with my Ex, and that clearly didn't work out, that I was afraid of not being sure with the next guy or being sure and being wrong again. I'm still afraid to be sure, like that's going to jinx me or something. But then I read this article and felt a whole lot better:

How To Know If He's "The One"

I was in college the night I met him. And even after all these years, the thing I remember most is the unexpected, very physical shiver that immediately ran up my spine when he looked at me. He's It, that shiver said.

We talked, we flirted, we had our first date two days later. I fell hard. I loved that he was sweet, but not saccharine. I loved that he was Jewish, but not too Jewish. I loved that he was a fan of Hot Tamales, the candy I ate by the truckload back then. And (OK, call me shallow) I loved that he was an Ivy League graduate.

Our odds were good: I was 20, he was 23, and we added up to the perfect couple. Except that after three years, as I was busy trying to drop the subtle hint that my ring size was 6 3/4, he was busy cheating on me. I found out, we broke up, and let's just say the next six months weren't pretty.

I'm still not sure what got to me the most: the rejection or the fact that I had truly believed, in my gut, that my boyfriend was The One. So if that first shiver, followed by a fabulous three-year relationship, wasn't the telltale sign, how does anyone ever know who's right for them in the long run?


Apparently, I'm not the only person who has struggled with this question. It came up again last summer, at my client Amy's wedding. I was seated at the "singles table," since brides often like to treat their unattached friends to my dating advice.

The woman next to me leaned over and whispered, "When Amy met Kurt, she told me she just knew it was right. When will I ever feel that way?"

I knew the answer she wanted to hear. By now I've coached thousands of singles on how to find love, and watched hundreds of clients and friends trot down the aisle. But what I wanted to tell her was, "Maybe never."

It wasn't that I didn't believe this woman would ever find the right guy. It was more that I feared she might never know he was the right guy. An hour earlier, sitting in the church, it struck me that what I was really witnessing was a crapshoot. Here was this couple at the altar, pledging their lives to each other.

And as happy as I was for them, I knew the truth: When you get married, all you can really do is roll the dice and hope for the best.

But everywhere I go, I meet smug married couples who love to relate the moment they "just knew" they'd found their life partners. As far as I'm concerned, it's revisionist history; if the marriage in question has worked out so far, they say they acted on their rock solid gut. But if it ended in divorce, they confess to earlier doubts.


To be frank, I don't believe anyone can really know this kind of information for sure—and I speak not just from my college relationship, or from all my years as a dating coach, but from reflecting back on my own 1992 wedding.

My jitters were epic, the kind that had my friends speculating on how long my marriage would last and the caterer reminding my mother that the deposit was strictly non-refundable.

An hour before my ceremony, I nearly collapsed. As the photographer snapped pictures, my smile was strained; I was terrified. My fiancé, Brad, and I had dated for two years and been engaged for one. We knew each other well. But did we know what the future would hold for us? Of course not.

"So let me get this straight," my brain was saying. "I'm supposed to decide today to be with one person for the rest of my life because, up until now, things have been great? Because, so far, I still love him?" This made no sense. I was tormented by what everyone had told me for years about marriage in general, and my fiancé in particular—the old "you'll just know" or "trust your gut."

Well, this time, I didn't know, and my gut had a bad stomachache.

So naturally, I took the path of any good drama queen: I dropped my bouquet, slumped into a nearby chair, and burst into tears.

Brad rushed over and shooed away the photographer. While he was aware that I'd had many doubts during the past year, he had none. My own hesitations, on the other hand, were quite serious; I'd even harbored a crush on another man during my engagement year. I'd confessed everything to Brad—I did love him, after all, and wanted our relationship to be honest.

But we were so different—opposites in too many ways. (More than one friend had observed that we were a lot like that Green Acres couple from the '70s: I was "Gimme Park Avenue" and he was "Farm Livin' Is the Life for Me.") How could it work, I wondered, when reality would inevitably come knocking? We loved each other—a lot, as it turned out. But what sane person could believe that love alone would pass the test of time, particularly when 50 percent of today's marriages end in divorce?

So there I was: big white dress, mascara running. "How can I say 'forever'?" I sobbed. "It's too long to commit to!" Brad took my hand. "How about this," he said gently, not even remotely offended. "Can you commit to being with me for one year?"

"Of course," I said, sniffling. "That's easy, but—" He interrupted me.

"Then let's take it one year at a time. Publicly, we'll say our vows, 'until death do us part.' But privately, we'll have our own little arrangement. Each year on our anniversary, I'll ask you if you want to renew. We'll do this a year at a time. Can you do that?" Overwhelmed by the generosity of his answer, I said that I could. And I did.

These days, my job is to help single men and women find the right mate—and it's never simple. No one is perfect. Everyone has baggage. And when they're in that last stage of dating, trying to decide whether or not to make it permanent, my clients usually ask for my opinion. Do I think they should marry this one? Sometimes I say yes, sometimes no. But the truth is, I have no idea.

Making that decision is like skydiving: It's a crazy thing to do if you think about it logically, but you pray that the ride down will be exhilarating and that you'll land on your feet. And in my experience, people take that leap of faith with naïve confidence.

Of course, some factors do seem to improve the odds—especially age. I see fewer unhappy couples among those who get married later in life, specifically after 35. This is largely because they're making the decision to marry with more life experience under their belts.

They're also committing to a fully formed person. Next comes personality. I've observed that opposites who complement each other often do very well. If you marry someone who's too similar—especially emotionally—you may wind up bored or in conflict.

Finally, try not to be judgmental right out of the gate. I often find that my clients have checklists founded on external, and not internal, traits. Why eliminate a potentially terrific guy because he's a few inches shorter than you'd ideally prefer? As a general rule, rigidity never pays.

But—and wouldn't love be easier if this weren't the case?—it's different for everyone. Back at that singles' table, I was immersed, as usual, in conversation about dating and marriage.

Everyone wanted to be a Knower. I lost track of the times I heard the words "The One," "Soul Mate," and "Mr. Right." I realized that the vocabulary these women used assumed that there was one right answer, and that the answer would be obvious when it arrived. I wanted to tell them—but didn't—that it's OK if they don't "just know," or if "Mr. Right" is "Mr. Probably."

Sometimes a marriage can be stronger if you have reservations. If your bond seems a little fragile, you take better care to preserve it.

The irony is not lost on me that my greatest fear—committing to someone forever—became the focus of my profession.

But I like to think I was meant to spread the word that it's OK to have doubts—even profound doubts—before saying "I do." And, as my own 14th wedding anniversary approaches, I know Brad's question will come once again.

Which brings me to the lovely part of this story: So far, things have worked out beautifully. Don't ask me how. He's really flexible; I'm really not.

I'm perceptive. Him? Not so much. But in a few weeks, when he asks me if I want to renew my vows for another year, I just know what my answer will be.

Heart Necklace

Here's some advice for the single folks: If a girl is wearing a heart shaped necklace, it was given to her by a guy and she is either with that person or isn't over whoever gave it to her.

Try it out yourself. Tell your friend or some stranger that you like her necklace. Then ask if her boyfriend/husband gave it to her. So far, every time I've tried this it's been yes. Which makes sense because I don't see why any girl would buy herself a heart shaped necklace. It's even been true for me.

For a variety of reasons, even though I knew things weren't going to work out with my Ex, we lived together for a few months and still pretended that things were okay. Except I wasn't terribly good at pretending. I wore my heart shaped necklace for a little while and then I stopped wearing it altogether. One day he asked me why I don't wear it anymore and I told him it didn't mean what it used to, and it made me sad to wear it. When he gave it to me he told me it was so I would know I'd always have a piece of his heart with me. Which I doubt still applies. However my mother always told me to never put it in writing and always keep the jewellery. So if I ever come upon hard times I plan on pawning it for cash.

So there's your lesson for today, if you're trying to pick up stay away from the heart necklaces.

Fiction vs Reality

Love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. If you don't start with that, what are you going to end up with? Fall head over heels. I say find someone you can love like crazy and who'll love you the same way back. And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart. 

~Meet Joe Black

I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who's ever lived: I've loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough. 

~The Notebook

I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her, be there forever, through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn't know about sleeping sitting up in the hospital room for two months, holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes, that the terms "visiting hours" don't apply to you. You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.

~Good Will Hunting

Me? I'm scared of everything. I'm scared of what I saw, I'm scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I'm with you. 

~Dirty Dancing

These are my favourite movie quotes. These are what I thought I had with my Ex. But it just didn't work out, and it's nobody's fault. Now I'm missing the passion and intensity that I once had. I talked to my sister tonight about my doubts about Nice Guy and she told me I deserved butterflies and goosebumps. That if I wasn't feeling it then it was as simple as that. She thinks I should just stand still for a while, keep the relationship where it is. I shouldn't cross the bridge but I shouldn't burn it either. So I guess I'll leave it at that. The only thing is I really hate hurting people, and I know Nice Guy has fallen hard for me so if this doesn't work out I'm going to feel terrible. 

Awesome Day

I'm feeling better about the doubts I had before. Every time I'm with Nice Guy I'm so peacefully happy. Yesterday, he made me blueberry crepes from scratch for breakfast and then we went to this old church that only has a service once a month. It doesn't have electricity or running water so they heat it with a wood stove and bring buckets of water in when they have a service for coffee and tea afterwards. It was really cute.

Then we went fishing in a river and I got some amazing pictures, there was even a little waterfall/spring thing. We had a picnic there and he had made fried chicken from scratch the night before with garden salad and cherries and even brought wine glasses for bubbly juice. He makes a really cute face when he's fishing, like he's thinking hard about catching the fish, which is harder in rivers because you aren't allowed to use bait.

Then we went to a little lake to fish since it was a stocked lake and you're allowed to use bait. So he let me cast a couple times and I mostly laid on the blanket and read a book and he would come sit with me and talk as he waited for the bell on his line to ring. It was just a really good day.

When I got home last night I get a text from him saying "Just wanted you to know... you really are my "sunny day". So glad your mine :) Thanks for today". We both sing along to country songs in the car. And he really likes holding my hand. So for now I'm really happy. We'll see if my doubts come back after my high wears off...

Jaded Butterflies

I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm not sure if I'm not really over my ex, or I've just grown up and become more cynical or if it's him but I just don't feel any butterflies. Let's start with the past...

I was absolutely positively sure that I loved my ex, he loved me and we were going to take on the world together. That thinking was what got me through tough times during school, because even if I failed, someone would have my back and we would work something out. Just knowing that it was going to be okay even if I did fail, let me get really good grades and a degree since I didn't psych myself out and choke during the important parts. I like having a safety net and sort of a worse case scenario go through my head before I attempt something hard. It's just the way I am. So I through myself into that relationship. I realize now that I lost or hid some parts of myself in order to make things fit but in all honesty, I remember being totally and completely happy. Fully content and peaceful and secure and everything good. I was totally in love. And then we broke up and everything I believed in pretty much blew up in my face. And as of right now, I don't know if I can put that level of trust in someone again, and if I can't trust them, how can I love them?

So let's talk about now and the Nice Guy.
~He likes it when I sing along to the radio (no one likes it when I do this, especially not repeatedly; I'm not very good).
~His friends keep telling me how lucky I am because he's such a nice guy and everybody really likes him, but he tells me he thinks he's the lucky one because I gave him a second chance and he's never been this happy. He also says he felt like something was missing in his life and now he doesn't feel that way anymore.
~He's affectionate, which I love. My ex was pretty much all against PDA but the Nice Guy will hold my hand and kiss me in public.
~He has a dog that gets along with my dog, and he likes my dog a lot (Bonus Points!). And he has other animals on his farm, and I always thought I'd be a farm girl. Plus he named a chicken for me. I also named his ducks.
~His family likes me and is nice to me, my ex's mom never liked me. She thought I was stuck up because the first time I met her I didn't say much. But she's not very friendly and I was really intimidated and shy and it was in high school. So since I couldn't think of anything to say, I chose to say nothing. But that's water under the bridge.
~His financially mature, doesn't waste his money on stupid things nor is he in really bad debt. He pays his credit card off on time.
~He has a job that he loves, so while a couple people at work are a little annoying he's not really a complainer.
~He has a nice body and he's attentive in bed. This next part I'm not going to like saying though. He's not as good as my ex but I'm hoping he'll get there. My ex could tell just from the way I was breathing whether I really liked something or not. I'm hoping that's just a "how well you know the person" thing. Plus Nice Guy was a virgin when we started dating and he can still get me off, it's just not with fireworks. I'll say this though, he won't go unless I've gone first. Which is pretty impressive for a virgin.
~He wants to go places with me. I don't have to beg him to dance with me. He's a "Yes" guy and I tend to be a "Yes" girl. Which could be a little troublesome because this whole month we've been dating has felt like a whirlwind since we're always going places and seeing people. I don't think we've had one day where it's just been us. Probably need to work on that because I've been tired lately.
~He's nice to his mom and grandma. Which everyone says is a good sign he'll be good to a girlfriend/wife.
~He wants a couple kids. Part of the reason I broke up with my ex was because he was absolutely positive he never wanted kids. So this is a pretty key feature. Plus we like the same name (I know it's really early to be talking about kids but it just kind of came up while we were watching a movie and I said I liked that name and he said he really did too and was hoping to name one of the kids that...)

So all of those are good things and I'm sure there are more. And I really really like him. I think he's fantastic.  But I have no butterflies. If I don't see him for a few days, I'm totally fine. I don't "miss" him while he's gone. I don't know if I'm just more independent now or I've become more confident in myself. Maybe this is good and it means I can be with someone because I choose to be with them and not because I'm afraid to be without them. Still... I miss the butterflies.

The Next Step

How do you introduce the fart into the relationship? Do you just let it slip one day and see what happens?
I have decided to lay stink bombs. While he's in another room I'll let one slip out and then walk away from the area and when he comes back in I'll see if he makes a face when he walks past that spot. I'll just see if he notices and if he does I can blame it on one of the dogs. And then, when a fart takes me by surprise one day and just pops out, he may already be used to the smell so he won't think it's THAT bad. Or he will and my little stink bombs will have done nothing. Oh well...

What Dreams May Come

So last night I was texting Nice Guy and we were talking about how we probably wouldn't be able to get together until Thursday. Then he suggested he could maybe come see that night. I told him I was already in lingerie and in bed and that I had every intention of going to sleep but if he wanted to come sleep that would be okay with me. I think the mention of lingerie motivated him a little because he came right over.

We did just go to sleep though. Then in the middle of the night I had a dream that I had left little pieces of plastic on the end of the bed and that the dogs would eat them and choke if I didn't clean them up. So I got out of bed and was looking for these little pieces of plastic and Nice Guy was looking at me and asked what I was doing. At which point I realized I had been dreaming about the plastic and quickly jumped back into bed. Then later on he was lying on his side facing me and then turned to lie on his back and I have no idea what I was thinking or dreaming but I swear I thought he was falling off the bed. So I grabbed at him and came smack down down on his thigh, very close to his manhood and scared the shit out of him. He thought he had touched me inappropriately and I was really mad at him. It took me a little while before I stopped laughing to be able to tell him I was trying to save him from falling off the bed. Which he clearly wasn't, it's a queen sized bed... I don't know what I was thinking.... I obviously need more sleep.

Crap at Work and The L Word

Friday during the day did not go well. It started off with a text from my crew leader that the Porta-John was in a field that had the water turned on and there was no way he could get it to the next field and why hadn't I asked the farmer to not turn the water on? So I drive out to the field and get the Porta-john out of the mud, and it was technically on the land to the South of our field, which isn't even owned by the farmer, so I had no control over the water in that field. But whatever, lesson learned, don't park it there next time. So I bring it to the next field and find out he has buried the van in mud so that the back bumper is touching the ground. So now I have to go borrow a tow rope from a farmer and tow him out of the mud and I got stung by a bee in the process right behind the ear. Then I leave him to his own devices and get my summer student to help him out checking behind the crew to make sure they're doing a good job. A few minutes later I get a call from my summer student and she tells me that the crew leader is very pissed at me. I have no idea why he would be pissed at me since I brought him the Porta-John and got him unstuck from the mud. She then tells me that he told her he had to take a shit in the field because there wasn't a bathroom available. And he won't tell her where he did it and she's afraid she'll step in it. So my life is great.... Oh, and I got stung by a bee behind the ear and killed a bird with my antenna on my truck. The night was better though...

So that night was the Nice Guy's birthday party at his farm. A ton of his friends showed up and it was a lot of fun. People slowly left or went to bed until it was just Nice Guy, me and his friend who likes to shoot tequila and makes everyone else join in, we'll call him Corzo. So we're sitting there talking and I'm hearing all kinds of funny stories about Nice Guy and then Corzo makes us do one more shot of tequila because then the bottle will be gone. I HATE tequila. It burns when it goes down, it doesn't taste good in the slightest and yet somehow I let myself be pressured into multiple shots of it. So let's just say at this point I'm quite tipsy but still coherent. So we do the shot and then I hide the shot glasses so there is absolutely no way we can do any more shots tonight. And then we're talking a little bit more and Corzo is now trying to talk us into a shot of something else, and I look up at the clock and realize it's 3:30 in the morning. At which point I turn to Nice Guy and say "Look, I love you, but your friend is evil, it's 3:30 am and I'm going to bed" and then I start to walk away. Then I can hear what I've just said replaying in my head and I turn around and say "Did I just say I love you?" and they both nod their heads yes. So I said "I'm going to bed". I had every intention of waiting for him to say I love you first. I really did not want to be the first one to say it. I'm not even really sure if I do "love" him. I'm very into him, I really like him. But I don't know if it's love. Hopefully he doesn't read to far into my drunken ramblings....

Corrupting Innocence, Jalapenos and Why do these things happen to me?

So I've been dating Nice Guy for three weeks now. We went camping and I met his cousins on Friday and then went to a house warming party for his other cousins on Saturday night. All the girls I met told me he's a really nice guy and that I was very lucky and they've never seen him so happy, etc. He's a lot of fun and very sociable. It's nice to be with a guy who actually wants to go out and do things. I even went to church with him on Sunday morning. His family isn't one of those intensely religious families though, so that's good.

So on to the good stuff... On Sunday night we were making out on the couch when his parents called and said they were on their way over to fix one of the gutters at his house and something else that I can't remember. They said they'd only be about an hour. So when they got there I spent some time chatting with his mom and his dad checked the oil in my truck and my tire pressure. I could check my oil myself but I'm a little short and require a stool to reach so I don't check it as often as I should. So Nice Guy ended up making some nachos for his parents since they had come over around supper time and he's a nice guy like that. He added jalapenos to them (remember this for later...) and so we all ate off of one big plate and drank beer. His parents left right after and we went back to making out. Up to this point, we had only ever kissed but it's been 3 weeks and even though I really didn't want to pressure him into anything, a girl has needs. Plus I taught him how to kiss and now he's a REALLY good kisser so I've turned him into a torture machine. So without getting into specifics I coaxed him into heavy petting, which turned into under the clothes, which turned into a little more, which turned into holy shit! what is that burning sensation?! Ahh yes, the jalapenos. So a little hand washing and we were back in action. We both ended up very happy, but it was also very late. So I left his place at 11:30 and let's make it clear that I was now tired, plus I was tired from not sleeping all that much for the whole weekend.

This is where my night went to shit. It was a half hour drive home and when I got there I was definitely feeling sleep deprived. I had my overnight bag in the back seat with my dog and then my dog's bag of stuff and his collapsable crate on the passenger's side. So for some reason, I put my truck keys in my purse, left it on the passengers seat, got out, let my dog out and grabbed my overnight bag and then auto locked the doors. Then I went around to the passenger's side and tried to open the door... which, surprise surprise, didn't open. I hate that feeling, the exact point where you wish you were playing a game and could just press restart? The "No!! I didn't mean to do that! Please tell me I didn't actually just do that!! Undo!! Undo!!"

So first I tried breaking into my house, and falling short of breaking a window, I can't break in. Which is slightly comforting but not helpful at midnight when I have to work in the morning. I go back to look at my truck and stare at my keys and cell phones and all contact with those that could help me... Then I remember that my friend who lives down the street has one of my spare keys and that she keeps a spare key hidden in her shed. So I walk down the street to her house, and when I get to her shed, the light is burnt out. So I'm feeling around for her key and finally find it (thank God!) and I break into her house. I should probably mention she's in another province right now visiting her parents. And since I have no phone, I can't call and inform her that I will be breaking into her house. So I'm trying to find my spare key and I looked everywhere, I probably searched for half an hour.  She doesn't have a home phone, just uses her cell phone so I can't just call and ask where my key is. Nor can I call my work the next morning from her house to get someone to bring my spare truck keys to me. Then I thought I should use her computer and email her to ask where she had hidden my key. Unfortunately she has a wireless keyboard and the batteries were dead and for the life of me I could not find any in the house. So at almost 1 am I said screw it, I'm sleeping in her bed. I then realized the only clock she has in her house is in the kitchen. So now I don't have an alarm for the morning... So I opened the curtains and figured the sun would wake me up at about 6. I didn't end up sleeping very well because I was afraid I wouldn't wake up because I was already so tired and clearly wasn't going to get enough sleep tonight as it was. I ended up waking up at 6:30, walked to the Doctor's house down the street (him and his wife are really nice to me and invite me to dinner all the time) and knocked on their door and asked to use their phone to call my work where there's an extra set of keys to my truck. They were super nice about it and even gave me breakfast while I waited for someone to be able to bring me my key. I was definitely late for work, but luckily I work at a place where everyone is very understanding. So I guess things didn't end up so horrible, but it was definitely not pleasant.

BTW Nice Guy texted me the next day to say that last night was really hot and he had a lot of fun. I have a feeling I have permanently corrupted him...

A Little Self Critical

So I was giving a presentation today for a field school and I was asked to do a TV interview. The guy who was suppose to do the interview was having a baby today so they asked if I could fill in. But they told me a few minutes before the camera man put a camera in my face and I was very flustered. I was hoping they wouldn't use the footage they had of me because they interviewed a couple other guys and I felt like I didn't answer the questions well enough.

Turns out they did use my footage and the first time watching it I thought I did absolutely horrible. My voice sounded weird, I said umm a lot, I was blinking a lot and my explanations could have been so much more clearer. I didn't sound really confident in my answers. So overall I'm not feeling very good about my 60 seconds of fame. But I had taped it so then I call my parents and Skyped with them so I could show them my interview. They said they thought I did really well and I was being too hard on myself. After watching it a second time I felt like my complexion looked really good, and they had the top third of my body so weight wise I looked pretty good. And after really hearing what I had said, it wasn't totally wrong, it just could have been more right. I wish it had gone a little differently, but I guess this isn't the worse thing that could happen to me.

More than Proud and Fireworks

So my dog and I were in a demo at the Canada Day festivities this weekend. We did Scent Hurdling, which we've been practicing for a few months now. This time he distinguished between 4 dumbbells, brought the right one back without dropping it and jumped over all the hurdles. We are well on our way to making the team and actually competing!! Words can not describe how happy I am with my dog. He didn't get distracted at all, he knew exactly what he had to do and he was so happy doing it. I couldn't ask for anything more. I love him.

Later on Nice Guy came to watch fireworks with my friends and I. We all laid on a couple blankets and I really liked that part. I'm very cuddly, I love puppy piles. He then came back to my house after and my temporary roommate went to bed. We spent an hour talking and he kissed me. I don't know if I'm feeling it though. I really do like him. I'm attracted to him. But I feel like something is missing. I think it's something carnal. This guy is a little too sweet to be able to imagine carnal with him. I'll keep going for a little while to see if I change my mind about this.

Pride

There are many things I'm thankful for in life. I was able to get a good education in a field that really interests me (I have a Masters in genetics) and I'm a few months away from paying off my student debts (which took just over a year for over $20,000). I was able to get a good job right out of school. And I think, all things considered, that I'm genuinely a good person, or at least I try very hard to be. The one thing that I'm most proud of though, the thing that gives me instant joy every time I think about it, is I have a good dog.

I have a really good dog. He's eager to please. I started doing Rally Obedience with him and you're allowed to use treats while training but can't have anything in the ring during a competition. He was able to complete whole courses without treats while my other classmates were still using them. We also won first place at our second competition and we're entered into another in a few weeks (I'm very excited).

He's not a whiner. If you're tired after a long day and just want to lay on the couch, he's totally up for that. Tell him to lie down and he'll go right to sleep. If you want to play then grab a toy and he's ready in an instant. If I need someone to look after him for a night, he's easy to give away. Everyone I've had babysit tells me he's a pleasure to have.

He gets along great with other dogs. I never worry that he'll behave badly. He also doesn't like getting wet/muddy so he'll avoid the giant mud puddles all by himself while other people are yelling at their dogs to "get out of there!!". It's easy to wash his feet off with the hose after our walk, and I don't envy the owners whose dogs like a good roll in the mud.

He's not a jumper and he's not overly friendly. I don't worry that he'll ruin someone's outfit if they come to my door. He's a glutton so he'll do anything for food. Which is easy to control since I don't feed him table scrapes. He's just a really good dog. And I appreciate him so much more when I have to look after someone else's dog and all they do it whine, or need a LOT of exercise to wear them out.

I try not to talk about him too much. I don't want anyone to think I'm gloating, or feel bad if their dog isn't as well behaved. But he really does make me proud. I love this friggin dog...

Easy going

I went dancing with the Nice Guy on friday night. We went to a bar and there was a gay guy who had just come out and was having a "coming out" party with his friends. The whole bar cheered when the DJ announced it, which is really nice to see. Nice Guy even got hit on by one of them. I told him it meant he was good looking.

On Saturday we went to a festival in the park, and he held my hand. Which I liked, and at least a "move" was made, although I had to initiate it the first time. At least it's a step in the right direction. We're gonna have to work on kissing soon. It feels kind of weird to be this old and going this slow, but I kinda like it. I definitely don't feel pressured in any way and hopefully he feels the same. I dunno, I'm just playing it by ear.

On Sunday I met his family. They're a little rough around the edges but they have good hearts. His dad duct taped together 42 sparklers and lit them a ways away from us. But they fell over and started moving and did a U turn and came back at us, right beside where we were standing.... Lit the lawn on fire.... It was hilarious and scary and exhilarating all at the same time. I must say that I liked those people. Nice Guy works out of town all week but we're going to see fireworks together on Friday. Insert lame firework/love joke here.

The Nice Guy

So I've started seeing this guy. We first met on an online dating site half a year ago, and even though he was super nice and we had a lot in common, he had a really big personal space bubble. After our second date I got a hug at the end of the night, and that was it. I was thinking that maybe he felt more of a "friend" connection and wasn't really attracted to me or something. Normally when people are attracted to each other there's a bit of playful touching going on, accidentally hit elbows, reach for the same thing at the same time, graze by each other when you go out the door, something! But the only time he touched me was during that hug at the end of the second date. So I let it go.

He told me later that he had gone on a date with another girl and felt more of a connection with her. So we decided to just be friends (he's a nice guy, good friend material). *Side note: The girl he "felt a connection with" ended up dating someone else while he was at his cousin's wedding in Mexico, and didn't inform him until he got back.* So we stayed in touch and a couple months ago we started hanging out more often. He's a good two-stepper so whenever my friends wanted to go out to the bar I'd always invite him.

He lives on a farm and got some hatching eggs a little while ago, so I asked if he would name one of them Dinner for me. So last week, we were out dancing and he told me that the eggs had hatched and if I wanted, I could come see Dinner. I said sure, I'd love to. So I went over to his place on Sunday night and I met his dog and his llamas and all the baby chicks and ducks. I asked which one was Dinner and he said he wasn't sure because he had named the very first one that hatched just in case it was the only one, but now they all look the same. Which I think is very sweet. 

We hung out for a while and built a campfire and he also showed me salamanders that have babies by his house every year. We talked for hours and he ended up confessing that he's never had a serious relationship. He literally has no "moves" so even though he really liked me, he had no idea how to show it. He told me that I'm really easy to talk to. He said he really screwed up when he had picked the other girl and would really really like to try again with me if I'd let him. So we're trying again, and this time I know he likes me, I just have to teach him how to make a move. I told him that I felt like he had a really big personal space bubble and he said he didn't realize he was doing that, he just didn't want things to move too quickly if I didn't want them to and basically he really had no idea what he was doing. So I guess we'll see how this turns out. I'm a tiny bit bothered by the fact that I'm yet again the second choice (I think this is the 3rd or 4th time this has happened in my life) but there's probably a better way I could look at it.

Curious

I'm a very curious person, maybe a little nosey. I love hearing stories. I like being "in the know". However, I don't tend to retell someone else's story, and if I do, I never use names and I'm absolutely certain that the person/people I'm telling the story to don't know and will likely never know the person the story is about. And if by chance they do meet, they won't know that's the person I was talking about. However, if the story is about me or I play a key role in the story, I consider it mine and it's free to tell, unless you ask me not to.

That being said, there's a guy at work who intrigues me and I can't put my finger on why. We'll call him K.O., because he's a Knock Out (grrowl...) and, in case I ever mention him again, it's nice to be able to keep it straight, but I don't like naming names. So K.O. is a pretty good looking guy, close to my age, funny, smart, cheeky, flirty. But he's also a total male slut. He has told me that it's not even a challenge anymore to pick a girl up at a bar and take her home for the night, like shooting fish in a barrel. And I believe him. If we didn't work together and he had tried to pick me up at a bar, there's a good chance I would have fallen for him. Then he would have kicked me out in the morning and I would have felt like crap, and even knowing this I'm still attracted to him. I can't figure it out.

Not only that, but I'm curious about his stories, all his one night stands. How did he do it? How did he get that good or was he always that good? What's his move? Is he actually any good? A ton of one night stands doesn't give you a good idea of whether any of them even wanted seconds. I'm sure there's some hilariously awful stories as well. And while I'll feel bad for the girl it happened to, I still want to hear. Like driving past a car crash and turning your head to look.

I've been told 3 times in the past few weeks that I'm easy to talk to. Maybe it has something to do with me actually wanting to know what people have to say. Maybe it's totally something else entirely. I'm going to try and see if K.O. will tell me his stories. He's with his first girlfriend in a long long time, so I had asked via text if he was still seeing her. He said he was and I told him I wasn't planning on asking him out or anything, I was just curious. He said "why not? am i not good enough for you?". And I told him he intrigues me, but that I'm fairly certain he's a heartbreaker. Plus I really like stories and I think he has some good ones. He told me as long as I didn't judge he'd tell me some.

I'm curious as to whether he would ever consider dating me. I'm not drop dead gorgeous, more like cute with a great personality. Although I've been told I'm way better looking than I give myself credit for. I never want my ego or vanity to put people off though, I try not to seem stuck up or better than anyone.

I'm pretty sure K.O. is just a really big flirt, and likes being wanted. So he's probably the same way with every girl. There aren't very many girls where I work and most of them are older than me so it's hard to judge. I think, that if he ever were to ask me out, I would probably decline. He's a great guy to work with, and always comes through for me when things need to get done. But I don't think I'd be able to trust him with my heart.

Still, I wonder.....

Agnostic

The night I went to the country bar I taught my friend's co-worker to two-step. He had just broken up with his girlfriend that day and apparently had started drinking at 7 pm (I didn't know until later). It was about 10:30 or 11 when I met him. He told me I was a great teacher and wanted to dance with me again later so I told him I'd find him.

Much later into the night I found him again and we danced and he told me he thought I was really nice and again, that I was a great teacher and dancer and I made things so easy. Honestly, I just like dancing, I wasn't really looking for a hookup or anything. Then he kissed me. And he was a pretty good kisser. But I felt like I was a rebound or something. Right before that dance was when I found out he had just broken up with his girlfriend. So while I didn't push him away, I wasn't trying to encourage it either. Other than being really drunk, he seemed nice enough so I told him he could get my number from my friend if he remembered me in the morning.

Turns out he remembered me, but didn't remember my name. He got my number from my friend and texted me the next morning. So we've been sending texts back and forth, sort of getting to know each other when he tells me he goes to church every week. Which is fine and I think religion can teach you good morales and to love thy neighbour and all that jazz. But then he tells me this:

Him: It's more about having the comfort in knowing that I am saved from my sins by repenting and believing that god died on the cross for each and every one. I am very much into my faith. What I did the other night is a side of me that doesn't come out alot and I wish it never would.

Me: What did you do?

Him: I went out drinking and got way outta hand. I kissed you and I never even remembered your name. I gave into the devil. That wasn't god.

This is what I don't like about religion. It was a kiss. And while he was drunk, I wouldn't have labeled him "out of hand". He wasn't stumbling, he never felt me up, didn't insult anyone and was just basically having a good time. I feel a little insulted that kissing me was giving into the devil, like I'm some vile temptress. I feel everyone is entitled to their own beliefs and I would never pressure anyone into believing what I do. So if you are currently happy with your faith then don't read on, but if you would like to know what I think then here it is:

If there is a God, then he is a kind God. I refuse to believe in a God that would punish good people for things that don't seem the least bit bad in my mind. And if I'm wrong, then I wouldn't want to worship a God that petty to begin with.

My belief begins with my mother. My mother doesn't believe in a God at all. I was taught right and wrong because they were right and wrong, not because I fear the punishment of eternal damnation when I die. I was taught to try to make the world a better place while I'm in it, and to work hard to get what I want. You get more satisfaction out of the things that don't come to you easily.

When I was little (maybe 5 or 6), my best friend's dad when to jail for 9 months. Her mom was working a lot of overtime and was barely able to afford food and rent. She was using one of our cars to get to work and she wasn't going to be able to afford a single present for her kids for Christmas. My mom went over to her house, gave her $500 and said "This is not a loan. I don't ever want this back. Don't you even think of trying to repay me. I want you to take it and get your kids some presents and dinner for a Merry Christmas." My parents are not rich, and back then we were not even "well off". We were just doing okay. And I never even heard about this until I was 19.

My mom works in a retirement home and there was an old man there who had come from Brazil and had lived most of his adult life in Canada, but never had a family here. However he didn't speak very good english and one day he had a stroke and lost his ability to speak altogether. My mother could tell he wasn't going to last very much longer and knew he had family in Brazil but didn't know any of their names, and she knew he had a life savings that she didn't want to go to the government when he died. So she looked through his drawers trying to find a will and came across a letter from his nephew, who had been practicing his english. So she searched the internet for his number and phoned him and told him about his uncle, then she held the phone up to his ear and while he wasn't able to speak, he was nodding his head yes and had tears in his eyes. The phone was passed around and his family was able to tell him how much they loved him and missed him. This man had saved as much money as he could and only shopped at Value Village. He owned one nice suit jacket but all his pants had holes in the knees and he didn't own any nice shirts. So that day my mom went to the store and bought him a nice pair of pants and a shirt so that he'd have something nice to be buried in. She gave them to him and never expected anything in return. He ended up dying a couple days later.

There are so many stories I could tell you about my mom. She is such a kind and generous person. She makes this world a better place. Someday I hope people think I'm half as good as my mom is. Also, my parents are not married. They live in "sin". There is no way you could ever convince me, that when she dies, she will be going to hell because she does not believe in a God and doesn't go to church and follow a bunch of commandments. I refuse to believe in a God that petty, cruel and childlike.

So needless to say this potential relationship had been stopped dead in it's tracks. I don't want to be with a guy who's going to punish himself and repent for wanting me. Plus there's a small part of me who might like playing the temptress...

Wabbit Season Redux: The Icarus Syndrome

This is a story from Jackie Summers who's blog is F*cking in Brooklyn. I think he's a fantastic writer and I totally agree with his post:

Wabbit Season Redux: The Icarus Syndrome

The equinox has come, and gone. Daylight saves time, reclaiming its dominance over darkness. My brown skin slakes in sunlight, infusing my libido with renewed fervor. Primal urges rise in me, in tandem with the mercury. I hear the beat of tribal drums, rumbling like thunder in the distance…

I ignore them.

The preponderance of perky breasts poking skyward, free of their cotton and underwire prisons, proudly proclaim both their defiance of gravity and the end of hibernation. Clothing, inhibitions, and the burdens of commitment are sloughed like so much dead skin, in preparation for the return of the hunt: Wabbit Season is upon us. Springtime in New York City is impending; the clarion blares the invitation to attend a ritualistic pagan fertility festival that will last from Memorial to Labor Day, the likes of which would make Caligula blush.

Politely I decline; I’ve simply no desire to join the melée.

I’ve self-diagnosed my malaise as a symptom of having flown too close to the sun. Each new season I engaged the rank and file blessed me with deeper skill and cunning, while cursing me with an addiction far more powerful than any drug: maturity. The craving for metaphysical stimulation, once experienced, transcends all base desires.

In my quests for quarry capable of appeasing my avaricious appetites, I’ve ascended Olympus, and descended into Avernus. I’ve cavorted with Amazons, reveled with Valkyries and seduced Sirens. I’ve wrestled angels and ravished goddesses, infused their essence with my own, and then nuzzled them, while enjoying the gentle throb of orifices attempting to return to their natural shape.

I have flown half-a-mile from heaven. And I have fallen from the sky.

Thus did the rites of spring grow wearisome. Hunting wabbits no longer seemed fair to them, or me. Chloé hammered home the final nail into this particular coffin.

The shoe department at Saks Fifth Avenue is of sufficient size as to boast its own zip code. Chloé was doing her best to end the recession single-handedly, when she barreled shopping-bags first out of their revolving doors, almost knocking me over. I caught just the slightest glimpse of aquamarine eyes peering at me over the rims of her oversized sunglasses. The familiar thundering of tribal drums summoning me to action drowned out the din of midday traffic; I knew I had to speak.

I raced down the street to catch up with her. ‘I see you’re on the go’ I said, ‘but I just have to ask you: Are you in love with anybody right now?’

Chloé paused; she looked perplexed and unsure how to respond. ‘I don’t mean are you dating anybody at the moment’ I continued. ‘You’re beautiful. I’m sure you’re seeing someone, or at least, someone thinks they’re seeing you. But are you in love with anyone? Because if you’re not, I’ve got to talk to you. You have to give me your phone number.’

It wasn’t something I’d said, or even prepared to say to a woman ever before, and it’s not something I’ve ever repeated. New York women are notorious for being difficult to approach, and rightly so, as the second they step outside of their homes they face being harangued by a contiguous stream of men, intent on getting into their well-fitting jeans. Armed with this knowledge, as they leave their homes each day they adjust their vetements, refresh their lipstick and don their bullshit-proof vests.

Herein lies the beauty of wabbit season; with time you grow to understand that the power of a semi-automatic rifle with laser-sighting, pales in comparison to that of a well placed word, or turn of phrase. Insulting a woman (which seems to be a popular technique these days) takes no skill. The ability to approach a (possibly defensive) complete stranger in a manner which allows her to drop her guard, requires deftness. If you can’t be fearless, if you can’t be spontaneous, if you can’t read the subtle nuances and inflections of body language, if you don’t develop an instinct for improvisation and rapier repartee, you will spend an inordinate amount of time alone.

That said, Chloé was clearly disarmed, as she promptly doled out her digits. We started dating, and almost immediately I knew it was a mistake. Chloé was beautiful; distractingly so. A buyer for a major retailer, she was good-natured and kind, in a way that gorgeous women simply never have to be. Sexually she was gymnastically nimble, and voracious.

It would have been perfect, if only she’d been a foreign exchange student who spoke no English, or had I been a Gulf War veteran who’d suffered a debilitating case of hearing loss. Tinnitus would have been preferable to the melodious tone of perpetual yak issuing forth from her pretty, indefatigable mouth.

Chloé was intelligent, but about as interesting as soap bubbles. I knew she shopped for a living, but I could never understand why that seemed to be the only topic of conversation she seemed interested in exploring. Listening to her dole on endlessly about clothes and shoes made me want to stab myself in the eardrums with a flaming ice-pick, after which if some kind person were to piss into my ears so as to extinguish the blaze, I would have been much obliged. I swear, I could actually hear brain cells committing seppuku when we conversed.

Mind you, I’d planned on killing those brain cells with whiskey, but at least their sacrifice was not in vain. I wasn’t about to let a silly little thing like thinking interfere with our consummation.

I recall laying in bed late one night, after an evening of acrobatics suitable for Barnum & Bailey. Propped up on my elbows, I was listening to her yammer about an upcoming shoe sale. It was two A.M.; not so discreetly, I yawned.

‘Am I boring you?’ she snapped, clearly irritated at my disinterest.
‘Not in the least‘ I countered. ‘Please, continue with the blathering blatherskite.’

Always congenial, she inquired what had gone wrong between us, several weeks after we’d stopped seeing each other. ‘From the first moment I saw you’ I confessed, ‘I heard drums. Rhythmic, pulsating, hypnotic beats, churning in my subconscious. I can hear them right now, trying to drown out my ability for logic and reason. But I know for myself, I need full orchestration; whole symphonies. I want brass and strings, woodwinds and timpani, allegro y sotto voce and everything in-between. What we had wasn’t sustainable. You’re an amazing woman but I need more than just mind-blowing sex.’

When I heard myself say those words, I knew that wabbit season was best left to the Elmer Fudd motherfuckers of the world. Wabbits are scrawny, and gamy; it takes at least three of them to make a decent hasenpfeffer. If you’ve skill as a marksman it’s downright unsportsmanlike; what fun is there in a game you can’t lose?

A series of emotionally tepid, intellectually languid relationships, simply can not satisfy the yearning for greater depth. Maturity serves as both blessing and malediction; once you’ve suckled ambrosia from the teat of a woman who is capable of setting both your mind and heart on fire, there is no return.

When eagles mate, they fly up to the edge of the stratosphere, lock talons, and make love whilst free-falling toward oblivion. With any luck they finish, separate, and catch wing just before hitting the ground.

That’s love, as a life or death experience. Is that too much to ask?

Approachable

So last night I went out with a bunch of friends to a country bar. I've only sort of learned how to two step recently but I think I have the basics down pretty good. I was refreshing my one friend on his two step skills and once he remembered he was whipping me across the dance floor. When that song was done a friend of a friend asked if I could teach him, so I did. And when that song was done a coworker of a friend asked if I could teach him too. I'm not sure why these guys wanted to be taught by someone who only knows the basics instead of a veteran, like one of my other friends who was there. Do guys find girls who really know how to dance intimidating? Are they really afraid of not being a good enough dancer?

I will let you in on a secret. If you are at a place where the social norm is two people dancing together, the girls there just want to dance. They don't care if you're good as long as you are good enough. If you know the basic steps, that's good enough. Whatever lets them not be a wallflower will make them happy. I, myself, will never turn down a dance, or at least I haven't yet. If a stumbling drunk, dirty old fool asks me then I might be tempted to say "No thanks". But in general I'm a "yes" sort of girl.

Near the beginning of the night a guy dropped his phone near my feet and I picked it up and gave it back to him. He said I was very sweet and made his night better already. I told him he was very welcome and to have a good time. When I turned around my friends were laughing. They told me that was a "move" that the guy made. I don't see how dropping a phone is a move; they are expensive and can be damaged by dropping and what if a girl accidentally steps on it with a heel? They assured me that he had scanned me for a few seconds before so "clumsily" dropping the phone. The guy never came back to ask me to dance or anything, so it must not be a very effective move. Or maybe I didn't respond to him correctly.

On our way out at the end of the night a guy stopped me and told me he remembered when I had red hair but likes it this way too and that I have a beautiful nose. I have no idea who that guy was but it was nice to be complimented. Overall a pretty good night, but now my feet really hurt.

Blissfully Ignorant

There's something to be said for first loves. I envy the people who met their soul mates in highschool and stayed together all through the years, had the flamingo anniversary, grew old together. The people who only had one lover their entire life. I have a few friends who would disagree with me. Those people don't know what they're missing. They could have a terrible sex life and would never even know it. They could get along better with someone else. They could get along worse with someone else. They could love someone else more or less. If it is great, how can they really appreciate what they have? They have nothing to compare this relationship with, no baseline. Which is exactly my point.

I was once blissfully ignorant for 6 years. I was completely trusting and gave myself over wholeheartedly. I poured myself into that relationship and happily made sacrifices and compromises. I was content and secure and I knew we'd be together forever and someone would always have my back. Even if times got hard we were in it together. Once you've had your heart broken, your plans ruined, I don't think you can really throw yourself into another relationship like that again. If it happens I'll let you know, but at this point I'm doubtful. I'm not sure if I can love someone else with the reckless abandon that I did him.

The longest relationships I had had before were never more than a month long. I had never gotten really attached to anyone, until this guy. Looking back I can see a lot of things that were wrong. A lot of pieces of myself that I had given up so someone else could be happy. Activities that I had enjoyed but couldn't find the time for anymore since I was devoting so much of it to him. But the thing is, I'm not sure that if we hadn't broken up, that I would have ever noticed. Or maybe I would have. I don't regret anything. I wouldn't go back. I'm just saying I envy the blissfully ignorant.

First Post

I am an everything girl. If someone were to ask me to describe myself in one word, I couldn't do it. I can't be conformed into a single word. Even if I could pick one, I doubt that it would always describe me. There are times when I'm a lot of fun, and times when I'm utterly boring. I have been very brave, and I've been a total chicken. I think I'm very smart but I do a lot of dumb things (which you'll likely read about). I'm usually very caring but there are times when I'm absolutely apathetic. I strive to be a good person, I really do, but we all screw up sometimes. So this is my blog, my stories of life and hopefully love. And I will make mistakes, bad decisions and generally screw up and I'll confess all of my "why did I do that?!" moments. But I'll love it every step of the way, and I'll see how many adjectives I can find for myself. ;)