Posts Tagged ‘romance


Meeting Bali Boy

So, I’m sat in the Opus Hotel in Vancouver, waiting for Bali Boy who went out on a food run. Things are going good, really good. He picked me up in his red convertible at 1pm yesterday and we went for Thai food. I was so nervous I hadn’t managed breakfast (nervous about handing my daughter over to her daddy for ten days, because I’ll miss her not because she is in any danger, as well as nervous about finally getting together with Bali Boy), so I was pretty ravenous by the time we went for lunch.

Its funny how I can have so much confidence at times but then be so chicken at others. As soon as I saw him I became incredibly shy and hardly knew what to say. He was cocky and more confident, until we were alone and then he became the shy one. It took us a while to relax in each other’s company, but once we did, it was brilliant. Bali Boy is an excellent kisser. Making out with him was divine.

Its been two days together and so far we are having a lot of fun, just hanging out, smooching, being silly. We went and watched Star Trek together, and went for a great lunch, which was (I guess) our first date. We had a fantastic dinner at Elixer, the restaurant in the Opus hotel, last night then got drunk and watched South Park episodes. Hanging out with him is so fun. I really do like Bali boy, he is everything I’d hoped.

That said, we have discussed where this is going and are on the same page. This is a fun diversion. A really fun diversion. He can be my Vancouver friend with benefits until either of us meets someone else and isn’t single anymore. Oh, here he is with food, gotta run.


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”.


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.


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.


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


Game on!

The chatting with Bali Boy has continued on an almost daily basis over the past few months. I like him, he is sexy, smart and gorgeous. He makes me laugh hard, so much so I snorted Cheerios out my nose and all over my iMac last week. Our chats are intense, fun, sexually charged and leave me wanting more. I have been trying desperately hard to sell stories on BC in order to justify a trip out west to visit him but it didn’t look like I was going to be able to do it.

Just when I was about to give up, I managed to score an assignment for a national magazine that requires me testing out romantic resorts (yeah!) so at the end of June, me and kiddo will fly to BC, I’ll drop my daughter off with her father for 10 days and spend some quality time with Bali Boy.

This seems like it will be the perfect way to consummate our “relationship”. He’ll drive us to the resort in his convertible, we’ll spend two days holed up in a luxurious suite that has a jacuzzi tub made for two, ocean views and everything you could possibly ever want for a dirty weekend. Hopefully the connection I felt that night back in Vancouver so long ago will still be there, we’ll make each other laugh, and enjoy each others company enough that the rest of my time in BC will also be spent with him.

I’m so happy that I’ll at least get to have a bit of fun, because it has been so long since I’ve spent time with someone I really like. Like I said before, this can’t go anywhere and I’m okay with that. I’m not looking to fall in love with someone who lives in the city I am so happy to have left, and this guy isn’t looking for a long-term thing.

This will be a fling, with a start and an end.

For 10 days I will exist outside of the realities of being a mom, where I get to be someone else. An all the time sexy and fun version of me, where I am not responsible for anyone and seeking only my happiness. Kind of like me ten years ago, but more jaded, less desperate to please and much more concerned about my own joy!


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.


He looked good on the dancefloor, but….

I ventured out on Saturday night to go to a club here in Halifax for the first time, the Paragon (which used to be the Marquee) where Skratch Bastid was playing. It was a fun night, Skratch Bastid played an incredible set and I danced for hours. There were lots of hot boys, and one in particular kept dancing near me and eventually we locked lips and made out. Thrilling! He was super cute, but it turned out he was only 26. He thought it was no big deal, and we kept hanging out together. I had an overwhelming urge to drop the ‘I have a kid’ bomb to save wasting my time, or his, and when I did he responded with interested questions. I liked him.

So, he and his roomie were having a little party after the club closed and my posse of six decided we’d go. More beer? For sure! I fully took advantage of the fact that my neighbor who was babysitting said to stay out a late as I wanted, although I was feeling a little guilty every time I saw a clock. I held hands with the boy in the cab on the way home and everything was going well, until we got to his place.

We walked in to his sparsely furnished bachelor pit and I realized that his lifestyle was so far from mine that nothing was ever going to happen between us. We’re talking a framed picture of dogs playing poker (I’m pretty sure it was supposed to be ironic, but maybe not) above a thrift-store sofa, and very little else in the room. The floor was bare tiles. There were four garbage bags full of empty beer-cans on the balcony. It was like student digs, but he wasn’t a student. It wasn’t just his place that was shocking; once in the cold harsh light of his apartment, the appeal of him had worn off.

I sat there for half an hour, but I just wanted to get home to bed. Suddenly I felt too wasted to even pretend to be interested in the drunken conversations going on, and I was feeling REALLY guilty about my neighbor there waiting for me to get home (who I assumed was asleep, but it was 3am now, what if she wasn’t?)

I made for the door. The boy got up and asked if we could exchange numbers. I said with as much sincerity as I could muster, “Sure, give me your number and I’ll call you,” and he asked if we could go out next Saturday. I said yes, then I felt really guilty, but there was no way I could cope with seeing him again (but being in Halifax I believe the likelihood of this happening is pretty much 90% going to happen). I wrote his number on my hand and went downstairs to wait for a cab in the lobby. Horror of horrors, I was waiting an hour for a cab, and didn’t make it home until 4.30 am. It was the latest I’ve been up in years and years.

Once home, I had a bath and sat there scrubbing his number off the back of my hand. In my drunken state I started thinking that I missed my ex-husband. But then I remembered seeing him recently and that ridiculous “Dumb and Dumber” haircut he has now, and it made me smile, and I realized that no matter how lonely I feel, or how much I want a man in my life, I don’t want my ex-husband any more than I want the interior design challenged 26 year-old. Better off alone than in another crummy relationship.


Dreaming of boys in far away places

There may not be much real romance in my life, but there’s a virtual one that keeps my imagination wandering. There’s this guy, very cute, sexy, smart and bloody funny, but he lives in Vancouver (where I just moved from last June) and right now he is traveling around Asia for another couple of months. He is a friend of a good friend, I’ve known him vaguely for at least ten years and the mutual friend tried to set us up at a dinner party she held last time I visited Vancouver, in February.

It was a fantastic dinner party, with sexy conversation (she is a very sexy friend!), great food and plenty of good wine. I flirted with the hot guy all night and he gave me a ride home, we had that awkward extended chat in the car before I got out but nothing happened. I left his car thinking that something should have happened, there was chemistry, right? But then I doubted myself and thought it was probably just one-sided.

Almost two months later we start chatting online and five minutes in to the conversation he tells me that he keeps thinking that he should have kissed me that night. Which I found incredibly sweet and romantic. Over the next few days the tone of our conversations became less sweet and more dirty, which has been fun. Really good fun. And we’re talking about meeting up when I go back to Vancouver next.

This is not going to go anywhere, I’m not talking long-term romance or dreaming of a shared future, but I am excited at the prospect of spending time with a hot guy who thinks I’m ‘adorable’, ‘smart’ and ‘funny’ and told me that he’d rather be chatting online with an intelligent and beautiful woman like me than trying to bang all the hot Swedish bimbos on the beaches of Bali. See, I told you he was sweet!

This will certainly make my next trip to Vancouver more bearable. I love the place, hell I probably would have stayed if it wasn’t for the constant driving rain, the junkies and crazy house prices, but going there means that I have to hand my daughter over to her dad for ten days, and I find it really really hard not to have her with me.

That said, its the only time off I get, so I intend to make the most of it. Let’s just see if this online flirtation can continue until I make it out to the west coast next time.


Swiftly, annoyingly domesticated me

I haven’t left Jimmy the Pirate’s lair in weeks, and it would be shocking, except the time passes so easily and calmly, it doesn’t feel like weeks at all. Also I have an  excuse: my laptop died a couple weeks ago and without his computer, I’d be lost.  What is surprising is that, in spite of both of us having zero recent experience co-habiting with someone else, we have taken to it so happily.

Granted, we aren’t quite the conventional domesticated twosome: I urge him to go out drinking with his friends at night so I can have peace and quiet to work.  He calls me from various places (the hairdresser, the grocery store, etc.) to tell me about all the hot pieces of Hollywood ass that are giving him the eye.  I got a large shipment of Astroglide goodies sent to his office, festooned with ribbons and bows.  It goes on and on. We are both shamelessly appreciative of eye candy, horny as teenagers, and thankfully though we’re each protective of the other, neither of us are “the jealous type.” (I’ve actually always been pleased to see other women looking at my man–it proves I have good taste.)

I do wonder if things are going to change and I’ll become a typical nag, harshing on my poor beleaguered pirate about everything from his wandering eye to his middling-serious tattoo addiction. I wonder if, when the first glow fades, I’ll stop pointing out other hotties to him, or find it annoying rather than funny when one of his exes appears from the past to propose marriage. My sisters and other women would probably warn me that this is a possibility, and say that I’m only so lenient because it’s new and still “fun.”

My response is…well, I was this way when I was 20, more so at 25, and after a few years of being a singles writer and advocate of the unconventional but true-to-one’s-self lifestyle, I could never forgive myself for suddenly embracing the status quo. It wouldn’t feel right. And I don’t think I could stick with it. Actually, looking at my past relationships, I know I couldn’t. One of the greatest things about this relationship is that I don’t have to hide the fact that I used to frequent the Spearmint Rhino, that I have close working relationships with several “adult toy” manufacturers, and that I’m the proud author of such stories as “Relationship Recycling: My Earth Month Amendment” and the classic “A Blowjob, A Sandwich, And Silence.”  For once, that side of me can coexist with the cuddly little girlfriend who just wants to stay home and watch movies on a Friday nite…and forgive me if this makes you puke, but I think it’s pretty rad.


In Which Shannon Wentworth of Sweet (Lesbian travel co) Stirs up My Brain

So a couple weeks ago I had a nice long phone interview with Shannon Wentworth, the CEO of Sweet, a lesbian tour company based out of Northern California. Shannon’s company is new, it’s going to specialize in ecologically and socially conscious cruises, and the first cruise on their itinerary is departing New Orleans in 2009. Okay. Now that I’ve covered the basics…

Lesbian travel is a new and somewhat random thing for me to write about–not being a lesbian myself, I didn’t ever feel particularly tapped into that market, or attuned to its readers’ needs. However, I’ve written about nudists and Plushies and swinger parties without ever dipping a toe into their waters (okay, maybe a toe), so if lesbians want me to write about them, then fine I’ll do it. Possibly part of the problem in this whole situation is that not enough straight women are writing about lesbians.

And there is a problem. I didn’t realize it before, but non-straight people have it rough when it comes time to travel–or even to go out to dinner, in some places.  Or, if we come down to it, to be treated like equals. (Did anyone see the presidential debates last nite? If so, please take my point.)

Anyway. Below I’m posting a few of my questions, Shannon’s answers, and then my responses, as I took a minute to think about some of these issues for the first time.

ME:  If lesbians move in faster than straight couples, do they also speed up the “holi-dating” process?

SW: Going away for the weekend happens all the time, but they often go to events that are accepting of the lifestyle. There are so many places where you have a getaway that’s not romantic because everyone in the restaurant is staring at you, and the waiters asking if you’re sisters because you’re holding hands and speaking softly to each other.

My thoughts: The waiters are asking you about your personal status? Whoah! They need to STFU and serve your dinner, as they’re paid to do. I’ve never had a waiter get all nosy about my connection to a guy I was at dinner with. Ever.

ME: How does the lesbian mindset change the vacation fling?

SW: It does happen that someone might have an intense fling for a week, but lesbians are much more likely to try to parlay that into a long-distance relationship and then one move to the other’s city. *chuckles*  Lesbians are not really prone to the fling. We as a community have been trained to behave better so we can garner the recognition and respect we’re looking for.

My thoughts: Hm. This is nice and optimistic. However, I’d wager that a lot of straight men out there have no interest whatsoever in recognizing or respecting you. They’d much rather buy into the mainstream porno version of you, which is that lesbians are mostly all giggling nymphomaniac college co-eds who are just making do with each other till a guy comes into the frame.

ME: What’s the deal with traveling as part of a huge group, anyway? Isn’t it sometimes nicer to get away a deux?

SW: There are still big chain resorts that cater to couples, that don’t allow gay and lesbian couples to book.

My thoughts: That. Sucks. And I had no idea!!! All those “couples getaway” and “mini-moon” releases that cross my desk, and it’s never once occurred to me to ask whether there were gender requirements. What are we, in the dark ages?

SW Part II: We were just at a lesbian event the company had booked a huge hotel block, and even though we were one of 200 couples, we were one of the first to check in, and had to explain it to them. And the people at the front desk didn’t get it.

My thoughts: How humiliating. How aggravating! I would have wanted to slap someone for putting me through a round of Twenty Questions like that.

And again–what’s up with these people who are supposedly in the service industry, but can’t manage to just keep their yaps shut and fulfill the customer’s request? If you’ve got a large group of lesbians in for the weekend, it should NOT come as some huge shock when two chicks show up requesting a king-sized bed.

ME: Are you going to be starting any destination wedding or honeymoon packages geared specifically toward your market?

SW: We would love to do a Mayan Riviera wedding. However, right now, same sex marriages are not universally recognized, and I think lots of couples feel like: Why bother going to the trouble of a destination wedding when it’s not going to be legally recognized back home? But  lots of people who already got married are waiting to take their honeymoon with us.

My thoughts: I can’t imagine taking a joint honeymoon with 17 other couples, so let’s shelf that for now. However, to the first point: This is so sad to me. Especially because the one thing that Biden, Palin, Obama & McCain all agree on is that these lesbian couples are never going to be legally recognized: Nope, sorry. Your relationship is just not as holy as everyone else’s.

So, basically any straight marriage, no matter how effed up it is–even if one partner beats the other  about the head  and shoulders with a tire iron every Tuesday night, or even if the girl was forced into it because she was 16 and knocked up in, hm, ALASKA–that straight marriage is a more holy union than any two lesbians? Or gay guys?

I just don’t get it.

As you can see, I got a bit fired up when I started thinking about this stuff, mostly because I think that everyone should have the right to move about the world in peace, and pursue whatever their definition of love is. And also because it bugged the hell out of me to hear about everything Shannon et crew have to deal with on a regular basis. All the questions, and raised eyebrows, and ‘not getting it.’

So, yeah, this has evolved a bit beyond travel–sorry, I wrote about it from a totally travel angle on Orbitz, if you’re interested. But on this site I’m allowed to talk about whatever I want. And what I waaaant, is for y’all to picture how it would be if you tried to take a weekend getaway with your shnookums, and the TSA guy asked you inappropriate questions, all the people in the airport line stared at you, the cab driver wanted to know when your husbands would be arriving, and then you got to the hotel and they WOULDN’T CHECK YOU IN.

I mean really. Common courtesy? Human decency? Evolution? Hellloooo? I could have sworn they were around here some place…

Or maybe not.

August 2020

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