Archive Page 2

19
Jun
09

Boys are confusing

I thought that I had finally met someone worthwhile in Halifax, but I very quickly discovered that I was wrong. Thankfully nothing had really happened and I wasn’t too heavily invested in this thing, so I got over it pretty fast. This new boy, lets call him ‘Sailor’ because he owns a boat, was someone I met last Friday night at a party. In all honestly, when I met him I didn’t think much of him because he acted like a bit of a doofus, thought he was much funnier than he was and was was leering at me. But, the drunker I got (and the more time I spent in his company) the more I liked him.

I ended up spending all night on his boat, because I was too drunk to leave, and the next morning we spent a few pleasant hours together. He seemed quite interested, and as I got in the cab to leave he asked me to email him when I got back from Finland (I was flying there later that day). Although in the cold light of day he was quite cute, and had a pretty tattoo, I still wasn’t convinced I was interested. So I told him I didn’t have his email address. “Facebook me,” Sailor called over his shoulder. “I don’t know your full name, I’ll never be able to find you,” I said, closing the taxi door. I impressed myself at how cool I was being. But then I wasn’t expecting to start liking him.

I get on the plane to Helsinki and look through the photos on my camera, and there were all these fantastic pictures of me and Sailor together. He looked very cute, and extremely happy with his arms wrapped around me, I was grinning ear to ear. I started to think that maybe I should cut the guy a break, perhaps he wasn’t such a doofus and just acted like one to cover up his loneliness or fears or whatever. He had said some lovely things to me that night….

At this point I started acting like a girl. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

So I find him on Facebook pretty easily, and we become friends. I see that he has posted that he had “The Best Weekend Ever” and smile. I see that another chick says “Thanks for a great night Sailor” the day after I saw him but I think, whatever, its okay, doesn’t mean he screwed her. We communicate back and forth and talk about getting together when I get home.

I get off the plane in Halifax and see that he’d messaged to ask when my flight got in because he might be able to see me there (he works at the airport so its not that big a deal), I message back to say I’ll just see him another day (I’d been flying all day and looked like shit, the last thing I wanted to do was see anyone). I walk through customs and there he is waiting for me. That’s showing an interest, right? I was impressed.

So, my ride had forgotten to pick me up so I was sat there for ages talking to Sailor, and it was fun, flirty and we talked about when we’d see each other again. I went home with a smile on my face thinking that I might have finally met someone cute in Halifax.

We emailed a couple of times that night, he said he was looking forward to hanging out and that he was off work on Thursday. Last night when I emailed to ask when we’d be getting together he totally brushed me off, said “I already have plans Thursday night, but if things change I’ll give you a holler”.

WTF?

Seriously, WTF?

After a day of questioning myself (was it because I looked like shit getting off the plane? Because I have a kid? Because there is another girl? Did I say something? Because I mentioned on my blog that I’d met someone?) and feeling like crap, I snapped back to reality. This guy is totally not worth my time. I didn’t think he was worth my time until I saw pictures of us looking happy, until I projected something that wasn’t there on to an entirely inappropriate person.

Sailor is hot, sure, but he is a 40 year old man living like a teenager, on his boat, getting drunk and high. Very fun, but that’s not my life. It might have been fifteen years ago (without the boat), but not now. I took him off my Facebook, because he isn’t a friend (my friends treat me better than that) and even if he suddenly regained interest there is no way I will ever go there again.

17
Jun
09

boys are like buses

When I was offered this blogging gig, I was a little concerned that I might not have enough material to write about. My dating life wasn’t that exciting and I hoped that the fact that I was going to have to write about it would mean that I’d put more effort in to actually searching for a man. For whatever reason, suddenly my dating life has got a bit exciting and I’m really not sure how to handle things.

I am not good at this whole dating a few people at once thing. I feel like that kind of dating has a whole different set of rules of engagement, and I don’t have the playbook in my possession. Suddenly, there are a couple of interested parties in my life and it worries me. Thrills me and excites me as well of course, but is a tad stressful. I met someone last week that made my heart flutter, and he is totally interested, but I’m flying out to BC to spend time with Bali Boy on Monday.

I’m also worried because obviously whatever I write about my love life is fairly easy to find online, so I’m forced in to a position of being totally honest and upfront with people. But then, that’s kind of how I am anyway.

This is a rambling post, with no real point so I should probably end it. But I have a really awesome post I want to write about what happened with this new interest, I just have to work out if I’ll shoot myself in the foot by doing so.

On another unrelated note, I just spent 24 hours in Finland on assignment and feel compelled to mention that the Finnish men almost knocked the Montreal men out of the water looks wise. If you are attracted to 6’5 blonde Nordic God types. Which, I kinda float my boat. I came close to getting intimate one with a very hot Finn this week, but decided that two boys messing with my mind was enough. Sigh. My love life feels just like waiting for a bus, none in sight for ages and then three come along at once.

12
Jun
09

montreal boys

I know that I already confessed my adoration of the French-Canadian male, but I feel that this is a topic that deserves

No, really, I was just taking a picture of my daughter.

No, really, I was just taking a picture of my daughter.

further attention, especially as I actually took a few pictures to use as evidence of how gorgeous Montreal boys are (you will notice that my toddler is in some pictures, as I didn’t actually want to be caught taking pictures of hot strange men).

In Montreal, it really did seem like there was a disproportionate number of attractive men. They were everywhere. My friend joked that it didn’t matter where we were, in the Metro, a restaurant, any store, there were at least three attractive men in our sight. The young men were gorgeous, as were the old men and everything in between. It wasn’t just that they were just naturally attractive, it was also that they took good care of themselves. Montreal men dress well, even if they were wearing a Ramones T-shirt and jeans, dressed like a hippy or in a suit, they could carry off their look better than other Canadian men can.

The sexual confidence that Montreal men display is dead sexy. They are not afraid to flirt, hold your gaze and even talk to you. Then of course the accent drives me wild too. I am a sucker for that sexy French accent and could have someone read me the news with that purr and get turned on.

Doesn't my daughter look cute? Oh and look, there's a hot boy!

Doesn't my daughter look cute? Oh and look, there's a hot boy!

I spoke to a few Montreal guys about the sexiness they had and they were both surprised, they thought that it was very hard to be a man in Montreal because the women were snooty and did not appreciate them. “It is hard to be a single man in Montreal,” said one young hottie, “there are not enough women here and it is hard to meet someone special.” I felt so bad for him, I wanted to move straight to Montreal and address the imbalance!B1IMG_0510

10
Jun
09

the un-date date

I am in Montreal for a couple of days, and being here has me wondering why it was that I moved to Halifax. There are hot men everywhere. Beautiful men that make eye-contact, smile at you and touch you gently on the arm with a ‘pardon’ if they bump in to you. I swear I haven’t stopped swooning since I arrived. Of course it helps that they all have sexy accents too. I am here for a job, I’m writing a story on ‘hippy Montreal’ for a women’s magazine, and I’m traveling with my daughter and a lovely friend, who is offering babysitting back-up, which allowed me to go for an evening out with a very handsome man.

I met this man, lets call him Francois, on a press-trip a few years back when I was six-months pregnant and thought him the most charming man that I had ever met. When I walked in to a room he would stand, he opened doors for me, and was incredibly chivalrous. I was totally enamored with his behavior, and loved his flirtiness. Francois and I stayed in touch thanks to Facebook, and when I knew I was coming to Montreal, his hometown, I asked to meet for drinks because I knew he would show me a side of Montreal I couldn’t discover alone.

We had a really lovely time together. He was just a charming as I remembered, told me half-way in to out first beer that he had never found pregnant women attractive and then met me, “You were there with a big-belly, chubby, and very sexy” he said. I think the word “chubby” was meant as a compliment and took it as a lost in translation kind of thing, because obviously its not an entirely flattering word! Anyway, we drank more, he was fantastic company and I had the best night out that I’d had in ages. Here comes the catch.

Francois has a girlfriend. A beautiful, young girlfriend who he is madly in love with. So, our evening together was not a date, even though it felt a lot like one, especially at 1am with three beers and a couple of rum and cokes in my belly.

A picture Francois took on our un-date. Yes, I am flirting through the camera lens.

A picture Francois took on our un-date. Yes, I am flirting through the camera lens.

We both laughed at how much fun it was to be on such a date like un-date and I cursed the fact that I don’t meet men like Francois who are single. Francois is quite a catch, I think that his girlfriend must be a very lucky woman (and have the patience of a saint considering what a flirt he is!) Being the victim of infidelity made it easy to draw very clear boundaries and know precisely what this was, and the fact that we were able to completely frank about so many things made the evening feel very mature and responsible, and I never felt like it veered in to anything inappropriate despite the fact that under different circumstances, I would for sure be falling for this charming man.

It was a fun and perfect evening. All the best qualities of a really perfect first date, with none of the expectations. I was reminded of how fun it is just to flirt, and realize that I should try to do so more often, which probably means that I need to drag my lazy ass off my sofa and go out in Halifax more often. Perhaps in the future I’ll just target French-Canadian men though, fortunately there are a fair few here in Nova Scotia so it shouldn’t be that hard to find some.

08
Jun
09

Weekend

UNICEF. How long has this organization been around for? It’s like the McDonalds of charities. Everyone has a UNICEF memory, from Hallowe’en. But what is UNICEF today?

IMG_8542

Publicist Marnie Wilson of artzbiz mans the decks at Unite With Art.

Well, the organization is concentrating its efforts on children in Africa with HIV/AIDS. That was the reason for the fundraiser Wednesday night, Unite With Art. A silent and live auction, with some live musical entertainment and food from a select group of Vancouver restaurants, the whole thing was held in the Storyeum building.

Which is a story in itself—the Storyeum was  a museum dedicated to BC history, and took up a vast amount of space in heavily-touristed area Gastown. However, the makers failed to take into account that BC history is, well, boring. And now the building, 40,000 sq. ft. or something, and in a prime location, is more or less vacant, and has been for a couple of years, awaiting new tenants.)

Anyway. So, Unite With Art. I went with a friend who’d recently broken up with his girlfriend, so he was definitely interested in meeting some new people. To his credit, he did—he circulated with the best of them. I hung out, after gorging myself on morsels from local restaurants like the Reef, So.Cial and Nubuwith, the event’s publicists. The art itself was a varied assortment, from abstract paintings to photographs, by local and international artists.

Art

Art

Thursday was Punk Rock Nite. I went and saw Rancid and Rise Against in an arena. Rancid was great, and so was the hospitality suite which, I have to admit, is really the only reason I went. I know, my punk rock cred’s completely shattered at this point. Sigh.

Do you ever work yourself into a tizzy about something, only to be disappointed? That’s what happened Friday, when I went to see a Scottish indie-pop band, Camera Obscura, at the Commodore. I loved the new record top-to-bottom (including the title, My Maudlin Career) but the live show was ho-hum. A friend in the audience, who had seen the band the last time it had come through town,  said she’d even seen the singer (Tracyanne) shooting dirty looks at the guitarist (Kevin). Just a rumour, though.

The best things about the evening were the opening band, Agent Ribbons, an all-girl trio from Sacramento playing Southern Gothic folk/rock… IMG_8660

and the electric guitar player dude standing in the doorway of a Granville Street store. Dude basically had a captive audience of people filing past as they left the Commodore, because the sidewalks are fenced in because the road is closed. (The city is constructing an underground train line from the airport to downtown in time for the 2010 Olympics.) He looked a little goofy like Jerry Lewis or Jim Carrey, but the weird thing was, he really rocked it on a James Brown tune.

Last night at a party I could hear myself telling the story about how I’d got my cat, Max. I knew then it was time to go but I still kept talking.

Today, checked out the Rembrandt/Vermeer exhibit at the Vancouver Art Gallery. What a rip! Only one (maybe two) paintings by Rembrandt and only one by Vermeer! The rest were second-stage (Dutch) Lollapallooza types. I call foul on marketing. However, the exhibit Apartment Ought is pretty cool. If you’re in Vancouver, you’ve got to check this out: it’s a six-level structure-in-a-structure (the VAG) where each level is an artist’s rendition of interior home design for the last 60 years. That is, the first level is decorated ’50s style, the second ’60s, etc, right up to the minimalist, cold ’90s. Quite a feast for the eyes, especialliy if you long for the shag-carpet-in-the-bathroom look. And who doesn’t?

02
Jun
09

Dealbreakers

I was downtown today with my daughter and decided on a whim to take her over to Dartmouth on the ferry, because that’s the kind of thing that two-year-olds get a kick out of. As we were waiting to board the ferry, this guy I went on a few dates with about six months ago comes over and says hello. I always feel a bit awkward at meeting up with men when I’m in mommy mode, but this guy (lets call him Danny) has a kid himself so I felt okay about it. Danny was cute, funny, charming and I had really liked him. When we started dating I could see myself being with him, but three dates in I realized that he didn’t have a job, lived with his parents and was really not over his ex. So, I ended things.

Chatting with Danny today, I found out that he now has a decent job, and although I didn’t know if he was out of his mom’s basement or over the ex, I presumed that at least one of those things might have happened since I saw him. Danny is a good looking guy – he is tall, blond, built and dresses well, so I couldn’t help thinking I might have made a mistake in finishing things. Anyway, despite the residual chemistry, but I said goodbye and took my daughter up on the deck to look at the water while he went to sit inside. For all of the fifteen minutes it took to get from Halifax to Dartmouth, I wondered whether I should say anything about going out again some time.

I didn’t get a chance, because he was gone by the time we got off the ferry, but as we walked past the liquor store out he came. We chatted again and he walked us to a nearby playground. It got awkward when he told me that he thought he ex was getting married today (RED FLAG RED FLAG!), but he seemed okayish about it. We both said that we should meet up sometime and then he left. I watched him walk away, lighting up a cigarette as he turned the corner, then I remembered what the ultimate dealbreaker had been.

It wasn’t that he smoked, although I hate smoking, it was that he told me he smoked in front of his eight-year-old kid because he didn’t want to hide anything from him. This repulsed me, because for one that meant he was exposing his son to second-hand smoke, but also that he was modeling a behavior that I thought was wrong. Now I’m not a super judgmental parent, truly I’m not, but that just struck me as so incredibly dumb that there was no way I could see the guy again.

So, I’m glad I saw him sparking up that cigarette, because otherwise I would probably emailed him and suggested we meet, which would have just been a complete waste of time.

27
May
09

Ups and downs on the Golden Pass

Back in Vancouver less than 24 hours and the Twister’s already calling to use my credit card. So much for “rebranding” herself, as she claims to be doing over there in Zurich.

Our goodbye, which happened at the main train station when I saw her off to work, was sad, as much as we infuriated each other over the last 10 days. And there was plenty of irritation to go around… for the Twister, I’m sure the highlight was Saturday afternoon. On our way to Montreux, in southwest Switzerland on Lake Geneva, via the scenic Golden Pass train route, we’d gotten on the wrong train, and we were trying to right ourselves. In a weird switch of gender roles, the Twister likes to figure things out herself (invariably leading to more confusion) while I, especially in a foreign country, like to ask questions. At any rate, she also hates my pronunciation of the few German words I attempt, and becomes acutely embarassed whenever I start asking questions.

So when we became uncertain which train to take next, she left me on the platform of a station. I was strictly forbidden from inquiring from any passing authorites or other passengers while she went in search of info. Of course, the minute she was out of sight I spied this weird pillar-like kiosk that said “information.” You don’t even talk to someone in person, you press a button and talk into a microphone. And that’s how she caught me, red-handed as it were, talking to a red pillar and trying to communicate with some Swiss train dude about which train to catch. She couldn’t have been angrier if she’d caught me with pictures of someone else’s crotch on my camera (see previous blog entry, Thanksgiving 2008).

IMG_8493

We got through that, but there were several more instances as we tried to navigate the Swiss train system. It was all worth it though for the night and half-day we spent in Montreux, a breathtakingly beautiful little lakeside town. The Golf Hotel was no great shakes as rooms go, but the breakfast (included) was a feast, and a terrace looked out on the water. For dinner we ate at a little Italian restaurant—pizza, again, it’s so good over there thanks to the Italian influence—and chatted with a local who recommended, for lunch the next day, the Palais Oriental. We stopped in for lunch—Greek tapas—on the restaurant’s terrace, then spent the rest of the day at each other’s throats navigating our way back to Zurich. All right, it wasn’t that bad, but it was a long (if sickengly scenic) journey, and we were exhausted by the time we arrived back in town. And like I mentioned, everything was fine by the next morning, and love and sorrow at parting had replaced our mutual desire to make the other’s head explode like in the movie Scanners.

Next: a pictorial essay on my Switzerland trip.




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