Posts Tagged ‘friends


Conjuring up the perfect man

I have a good friend who firmly believes that finding a man is just a case of asking the universe for one.

My friend told me to write down everything I want in a man, listing the qualities my dream man has, what he looks like, how we relate and everything that is important to me. I have to write it like he already exists, is hidden around the corner just asking for me to beckon him forth in to my life. What the hell, it can’t hurt to try right? So I did, and I put my list in to an envelope and put it in the bottom of my underwear drawer (because where else would be more appropriate?). Here is an edited (ie somewhat clean) version of my list:

My man adores me, thinks that I am the sexiest woman alive and laughs at my jokes.

My man is handsome, a gentleman, makes me laugh until I almost pee my pants and is great company.

My man is between 28 and 43 years old.

My man is a wonderful kisser, is romantic and thoughtful.

My man will love my daughter like she is his own child, want to have more children and be a fantastic father.

My man works in a creative field and is very happy with what he does for a living.

If my man has baggage, it doesn’t outweigh mine.

My man loves dogs.

My man lives alone.

My man has lots of friends.

My man loves music, has a huge collection of music in his house and car, and gets my diverse taste in music.

My man can rave with the best of them, but is great company watching movies on the sofa too.

My man has a good relationship with his mother.

My man now comes.

(I’ll let you know when he does.)


Sleepovers. This Single Mom’s Guilty Secret?

Since my daughter was born, I have been incredibly discrete in my (failed) relationships. Only once has my daughter seen another man here when she woke up in the morning, and she never saw us in bed together or even holding hands. I am perhaps a little paranoid about this whole thing, but I do not want to be “one of those kinds of mothers” who imposes her “special friends” on her child, only to leave the little mite heartbroken and confused when things didn’t work out.

My bad mother paranoia even goes so far as to panic over going out too much or leaving my child with new babysitters. My weird tangent nightmares have me dressed as Ann Margaret singing “Do you think its alright, to leave the boy with Uncle Ernie” I am trying to decide whether making my love affairs completely covert operations is going over-the-top or in fact the right thing to do.

The only man in my life that my daughter has ever met is the Brooklyn Boy. When the Brooklyn Boy came to see me the first time I made him stay in a hotel, and only came to see him when my daughter was either staying with her father or asleep. The second time, I let him stay in my house and for four days he was a part of our lives. It was lovely, he is a sweetheart (works with children and very good with them) and my girl adored him. When he left, she asked about him for weeks and now four months on seems to have forgotten all about it.

I am seriously attracted to the boy I’ve been chatting with in Bali, and when he comes back to Canada in three weeks, I want to go see him.

Problem is, as usual, I’m pretty broke, so there is little chance I can afford to fly to Vancouver (where he lives, where I just moved from last year, where I will never move back to). Going there would be ideal because the darling child can go stay with her daddy (which would make my ex very happy, as he hasn’t seen her since we were last there in January) and I can pretend to be a carefree single woman for a few days. However, stumping up for two return tickets to Vancouver for what will be a fling, seems a little daft when I should be insulating my house and paying down my credit card.

A possible solution would be to invite Bali Boy (as he shall hence be known) here. I have known Bali Boy many years, he is close friends with a very good friend of mine and I think it could work. If I can shake off the guilt about having a life outside my child and allowing her to see that. If I do invite said boy, I still don’t want my daughter to see me being affectionate with him or anything else, and I guess this may be a little odd.

Oh I don’t know.

I am trying so bloody hard to be a fantastic mother, and the idea of doing anything at all to provide a less than healthy model for my little girl scares me.


Running in to Mr Superlover

The sun is shining in Halifax at last, people are out in their gardens and it seems that spring is actually here. So, I knew it was just a matter of time before I ran in to a mistake I made: the neighbor I was in lust with last summer, Nick. What we shared wasn’t even a fling, he was supposed to be a friend with benefits but the friendship never really happened and the benefits were of questionable quality.

Nick is beyond hot. Tall, muscular, smart and employed (doesn’t live with his mum either, bonus!), the first time I saw him up on scaffolding and bare-chested as he fixed up his house I swooned. He really is an absolutely beautiful specimen of mankind. We’d actually been fixed up by a mutual friend on Facebook when I first moved to Halifax last June, he’d pissed me off with some comment and I’d decided not to pursue him, but then I ran in to him two blocks away from my house, where he lived. Because he was so incredibly gorgeous, I invited him over for a beer.

We hooked up, it was nothing special but I put it down to the fact that it was our first time and thought it might get better. Nick came round and helped me fix some stuff in my house, he was a sweetheart, I looked after his dog one day and he asked if he could come round later. He did, we did, but the second time was pretty bad.  Then I had a date with the guy who called his mother a bitchwhore and I was feeling so crappy I invited Nick round to make it feel better. The hook-up was okay, still not that special but I felt a connection. (There I go again being a girl, of course I’d started to like him, especially compared to the rest of the losers I was meeting.) We got on really well and were talking about doing other stuff together, no way was there any relationship talk but I thought the friendship side was going to happen.

Then nothing. I’d run in to him outside his place, which I have to walk past to go ANYWHERE, including to take my kid to daycare, and we’d make small talk but I’d been given the brush off. I invited him over and felt like an idiot when he wasn’t interested. Then he contacted a friend on lavalife with some cheesy message about how big and strong he was and I wanted to gag. I got fed up of notices coming up on my Facebook feed from girls to him about how much they were looking forward to seeing him and so I unfriended him (not because I was jealous so much as I was starting to feel like the least liked member of his Facebook hareem). Nick loved himself, but had every right to I guess, he had so much going for him and obviously no problems attracting girls.

However, like I said, I have to walk past his house at least twice a day and I don’t want awkwardness so I asked for a ride to Home Depot one day (we are both renovating houses, one of the things we had in common) to clear the air and let him know we were cool. We went it was fine, but awkward. That was in September. I was genuinely sad that we couldn’t be friends. On Christmas Eve I emailed to say that I was hoping we could go for a beer sometime, he emailed back the next day to say sure, but he was in Mexico so he would call me when he got back. Of course he didn’t.

So, today as I dragged my daughter to the store in her wagon, wearing track pants and with no make-up on, there he was in his yard. I tried to walk by but he called me over and started making small-talk, I was polite but when he said he hadn’t seen me around I just had to leave. At least the first awkward encounter is over. And, I totally don’t find him as hot as my mind had built him up to be over the past five months. Maybe I’ll just have to cross the street before I get to his place from now on, and remember not to play so close to home next time.

Oh, and for light relief you might want to check out this video, cheesy but too true One of my girlfriends sent it to me because she thought it rang true of some of my experiences!


I Don’t Want You, I Want Your Mom

Ah, the many ambiguities and confusions of casual dating/friends-with-benefits. They’re pretty much endless, no? From the ubiquitous scenarios (she wants to get serious, he doesn’t) to the embarrassing (a blast-from-the-past man catches you six months unwaxed and looking like the Bride of Sasquatch) to the plain ..!?!?… (such as I am about to relate)…FWBs are fraught with minor minefields. So much so that I wonder why anyone bothers with them. Until I dabble my toe in the ‘serious relationship’ pool…and then I remember.

Anyway, back to the story at hand. I have a bit of an odd situation with Chris, my occasional FWB of two years. In short, he wants me (this week) and I want his mom.

No, not in thaaaat sense, you filthy freaky dirty bird!! I just want to talk to her. In specific, I heard from her lovely son, that she is a Boomer dater and budding writer of some skill…and since Kim of this very site is looking for Boomer writers (or was; don’t quote me), I thought I should perhaps pass the word along.

Trouble is, I would have to go through Chris to do it, and then I would have to explain why I don’t feel like having sex with him. (Answer. No particular reason. I’m busy.)

I like Chris. I was happy to hear from him the other day…it had been a couple months. However, I was out of the country when I grabbed the phone, and therefore rather quick to hang up, after agreeing to call him the very evening I got back.

(This was just a downright silly thing to ask on his part, by the way. Who calls a casual friend the minute they get out of Customs at 10PM on a Sunday? Nobody. You’re grumpy, been standing in line for an hour, you just want to grab your bags and go home. I don’t know why I even pretended I would call.)

Anyway. Obviously I didn’t call straight out of Customs. Nor did I call the next week. Nor have I yet. It’s slipped my mind, what with work and travel and dieting to fit into the bridesmaid’s dress for my sister’s wedding. And I don’t feel too too bad about not calling, because I figure if he really wanted to hit it talk, he’d call me again. We don’t stand on ceremony.

And then came the thought with his mom.

I almost just sent him a text: Does ur mom still want 2 write bout dating?

But I thought that might bring up a whole bunch of questions and I really didn’t want to get into it, being that I am not actually doing the hiring–just giving a heads-up.

If I’d had his email address I would have emailed him: Sorry have been so incommunicado, ask your mother to email clips to my ed, and I’ll get back to you personally when next available for casual sex.

However. I do not have an email for Chris.

That left a phone call, and for some reason I just balked at making the call. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I didn’t want to chat, quite yet, knowing what chatting leads to with him. Maybe I have more social graces than I realize…to the point where I feel a bit untoward telling my casual fling that I don’t require his company, and am only calling him back because I want to encourage his mother to post her most private, personal business on the Internet for all to scrutinize.

And then there’s the last thing: It’s bad enough to say, “Hey, friend, I want your mom,” (in the metaphoric sense) but much worse to make the probable eventual followup call a week later…”Sorry, my editor took a look at her stuff, and we don’t actually want her after all. Thanks for playin.'”

Hmmmm….no. Maybe she’d consider it the opportunity of a lifetime, but I think I’ll just sit on this one for a while.


sinister magic messes with my saturday night

On Saturday night my friend Wendy was enchanted. At least, that’s my best explanation for what occurred. I didn’t actually see the enchantment taking place, but I was there for the fallout, and it was exhausting.

You know in the fairy tales where an evil witch casts a spell on someone and makes them unable to recognize their heart’s desire? Yeah, well that was Wendy.  Pissed off, confused, and questing throughout the entire kingdom in vain.

Even before the night officially started, there were hints that something was amiss. We had planned to go to a party, but en route, my girlfriend Nadia received several frantic calls from Wendy, who was already there. She was ready to leave, pronto, stat, the second we arrived.  We wondered what could be so terrible. It was only 11PM–shouldn’t people just be rolling in?

The second we got there, an effusive blond man in a Santa suit hugged us and pointed out where the drinks were. Meanwhile, several perfectly decent-looking people hung about chatting and dancing to old-school hip-hop. It wasn’t very terrible. Nor was the next room–indeed, it proved to be well stocked with liquor and crunchy snacks and attractive, friendly folk. I was curious to see what the patio might hold, but I never made it out there, because Wendy herself came rushing up, wearing a cream-colored sweater dress and a fierce frown.

“We’re getting out of here,” she said. “There are no guys at this party at all.”

Inadvertently I glanced up at the four 6-foot South Bay jock types who had overheard her. They looked away politely.

Then I turned back to find an olive-skinned, buffed-out, tattooed man hanging on Wendy like a puppy dog. 

“This is Miko. We work together,” she explained, before disappearing in a poof of unhappy smoke. I decided to finish my drink and chat with the jocks, but didn’t get to because within seconds Nadia began dragging me to the door.

“We’re going to 304,” she told me.

“Ehh?” said I.

304 turned out to be a lame Manhattan Beach dance club with cheesy lighting, crap music and TONS of people squashed in wall-to-wall. There, we embarked on an insane wild goose chase all around the room, bumping into strangers and splashing drinks everywhere. It ended with the same verdict: there were no guys there. Zero. The options were hideous, disgusting, pathetic.

“Wendy just wants to find a cute guy to make out with,” Nadia explained to me.

This confused me because in 304, just like in all Manhattan Beach bars, you could literally throw an ice cube and hit a cute guy.  I’m not saying that they were take-home-to-mama material, but they were definitely kissable. And a few were more than down to kiss Wendy. Only she couldn’t see it. Seriously, it was like she had selective blindness.

Soon enough, we were all squashed into a two-door Honda hatchback, en route to the Hermosa Pier at 1:30 AM. (California stops serving alcohol at 2AM). Then came a sorry walkabout to find a bar that would let us in after last call. With help from two random dudes who took pity on us, we managed to actually find one. There, I lost track of Wendy. On purpose. I needed to rest.

Soon, though, we were politely forced back onto the street, where lo and behold, there was our girl, talking to a crew of the skinniest, gawkiest, spottiest-looking boys imaginable. They wore checkered shirts, and looked to be about 19 years old.

She was thrilled. I mean, glowing. Swiftly, a plan formed. We would all go over to their house and play Nintendo Wii. This sounded only slightly better than a root canal to me, so I said I’d get a ride home with the guys who’d gotten us into the bar.

“Nooo!” Nadia howled like a wolf. “You came with us, you’ll leave with us.”

I can respect that kind of stick-together female attitude. It’s enough to make me hang out in a share-rental in Redondo playing video games with strangers. For about 20 minutes.

Yet ironically, when the popular vote overwhelmingly ruled “home, Advil, sleep, NOW,” there was one dissident voice. You know whose it was. And Nadia did NOT stop her. She didn’t even try.

I guess there’s no point in reasoning with someone who’s under an enchantment. To her, cute guys are invisible, teenagers look like princes, and no one in LA County is worth kissing.

I need a counter-spell, and I need it before next Friday night.

August 2020

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