Baaaa......

I feel sheepish.

I got a rapid response to my email, considering he's on dial up at the cottage. I have edited to preserve anonymity but it reads mostly as follows:

"[My name here]

Sorry if my email's tone hinted at a "dumping." That was the farthest thing from my mind! Frankly, I was just eager to see you. And the soonest I'd be able to see you would be Tuesday evening (since I'll be in cottageland till Monday).

So...in short, if you'd still like to see me and pursue this relationship, I'd be game. In fact, I'm hoping you still feel the same way.

[My name here]...let me be clear: I like you. I want to know you better. I want to date you again. I want to see where this goes. I consider you a rare beauty, a woman of class and intelligence, and a woman worth knowing. Seeing you is an honour and thinking that a woman like you might feel the same way about me? Well....it's a big deal in my books.

Get back to me when you can. If you still want to see me: please let me know!
Take care [Me again]. I think you're awesome and I want to see you again.
Sincerely,
Captain W."

I will be seeing him on Tuesday. My God, I'm glad the Universe intervened and I didn't cave in and drunk text Grey last night or dim-sum dial this morning.

Premature ending?

Last night, I received an email from Captain W, the tone of which was substantially altered. He asked me to meet him for a coffee or beverage on Tuesday after work. I won't repeat his email. Suffice it to say that it was significantly different than his last which said that he would gladly kick Beyonce to the curb if that would keep away those rogues Brosnan and Firth. It was sweet. The most recent one was so formal as to be almost chilly. I said I was free on Tuesday but I tried to gently let him off the hook.

"Having said that [I am free Tuesday], email is a heck of a medium. I'm sensing from the altered tone of your email that you have something specific you'd like to say to me. So, using my wiley female intuition, I'm going to make the following small-ish leap. If you're considering ending our brief acquaintance on Tuesday and are planning on doing it in person, let me say that really isn't necessary. Dating etiquette states that you can do so over the phone or even email. MSN and post-it notes* are frowned upon, however. While I have been dumped most unexpectedly over MSN, I have never been left a post-it note. I do understand the motivation though. The remoteness of the action usually assuages the guilt of the dumper and makes it easier for the dumpee to rant and rave and throw things. Overall, it's much more difficult to behave with class when a break up happens in person. I'm sure I don't have to tell you that. "


While I'm a touch grumpy, I think that has more to do with disgruntled exhaustion than heartbreak. I am disappointed but unsurprised. It's probably for the best, given our respective religious (dis)beliefs. I'm glad there was no physical involvement.

I think it's time to take down my online dating profile. Celibacy for the remainder of the year. I don't even want to call Grey for long weekend afternoon sex. I danced so hard and so long last night that I'm taking 400 mg Advil and spending the next 24 hours on the couch with the paper and Detective Murdoch.

*Sex and the City break-up reference.

Dream

I dreamed about Grey. It was vivid and so very real. When the strength of my emotions tugged me back into consciousness, I wasn't sure that I had been dreaming. We were lying in bed, intertwined closely together. His face next to mine, our heads on the same pillow, our breaths mingled. I turned my head ever so slightly and our lips touched. Folded together gently, softly like flakes of pastry. The tips of our noses rubbed together. He held me a fraction tighter. I can feel his skin against mine. His shoulders and arms. His smell. The weight of his legs on mine. Even in my dreams, he takes my breath away. I struggle to inhale. He kisses me and I feel as though I'm levitating off the bed. I feel drugged. And I awake close to tears.

I know what Asshat is going to say. It's all the pot-smoking. He's probably right. But, even fully conscious and several minutes later, as I sit here letting the words leave my heart through my fingers, I can't seem to release the steel band around my chest.

In my attempt to move on, I find myself with a decent man. He sent me an email today that warmed my heart and made it melt. He promised that, when he finally decides to kiss me, my knees will buckle. But he won't make the decision lightly. I struggle to treat him well. He is kind and considerate and a rare breed of gentleman. The baggage I carry around makes me harsh and ungenerous. And then I feel regret and remorse for not being nicer. He makes me want to be a better woman. I'm terrified. And the tears come.

Date fail

Well, that was frustrating. Date fail, no doubt. I had hoped, at the very least, for a scruffy, goateed kiss on the cheek. No dice. I walked away in the rain. I can't decide if it was sweet that he told me that he wanted to reach out and hold my hand three times but didn't or if it's just lame. That I had to reach for his arm when he walked me half way home. And I was most offended when he chose to remind me that I had initiated first contact. After a lovely evening of compliments, teasing, debate and much laughter. My heart hurts.

"F dash-dash-dash"*

My thesis is a piece of crap. I'm going to throw it out, go back to work and pretend it never existed.

Okay, I'm not. But this will haunt me for the rest of my life. I'll be 90 years old with no teeth, Alzheimer-ridden, sitting on the porch of the nursing home telling anyone and everyone, "I really don't think I screwed up! How could I have screwed that up?!" Augh.

I still don't see how I could have made such an elementary mistake but I must have done. There's no other reasonable explanation. Unless my nitrates grew fins and swam away. My stock solution was fine. But so was my dilution today. As it was back in May when I ran this experiment the first time. Argh.

Anyway, there's nothing I can do to fix it. Fortunately, my supervisor says that I don't have to rerun the experiment. My thesis will be a giant, undefensible pile of crap. But so what? It's not like I go to a real university anyway.

I should be less vitriolic. I'm glad my supervisor isn't making me rerun it. Very, very glad. So relieved I could cry from sheer exhausted appreciation (sound of my knees hitting the deck and my forehead hitting the floor at his Birkensocked feet). He was very sympathetic. I was all ready to change my enrollment status to part-time, start working again full-time and do whatever lab work I could manage on cold, wintry weekends when I have nothing better to do.

On a totally unrelated note, I would have John Mayer's Daughters.

*Thanks to Fish for this title.

Hell in a handbasket

Everything went to hell in a handbasket this morning. I don't normally blog at school but I'm sitting here trying not to burst into tears. My results are an order of magnitude lower than they should be and we can't figure out why. My supervisor thinks that either I misdiluted or there was accelerated biological activity in my stock solution. I'm defrosting it right now to run a sample. I'm almost hoping for the second because, if it's not that, then I screwed up large and everything I've done since July has been a complete waste of time. Maybe I shouldn't run this sample after all :(

Swamped

It turns out I have to bust my ass this week or risk another delay. We have been using a teaching lab while my supervisor's new lab is under construction but, of course, it's not finished yet. After this week, everything is going into boxes until it's ready. That could take two weeks, or six. Nobody really knows. My university is a piece of crap. So I'm going to put in another 12 hours tomorrow, more if I can get past the insomnia and get up at a reasonable hour. Hopefully I will then be able to put in 8 on Thursday and 8 on Friday and finish before the long weekend. I had planned to take Friday off but that's not going to happen. That probably doesn't sound like a lot of hours but it's a long time to spend on your feet being exposed to various chemicals. Especially because I can't eat in the lab so I have to leave the building to find food. I have to carefully schedule bathroom breaks around my experiments too because I can't just leave in the middle of something. I had a panic attack when I found out that I can only access the analytical lab with my student card between 8 am and 9 pm. This was at 9.20 pm. Fortunately for me, there was a nice man on security who buzzed me in remotely from his desk. Huge sigh of relief (subsequent to a silent mini temper tantrum in the hallway when I only just refrained from bursting into tears).

This degree is the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm exhausted again today and barely coherent. I hope I'll be able to string a few words together on Thursday evening. Speaking of which, I haven't heard from Captain Wiggles today. I was disappointed to not see his name in my inbox when I got home. Hmm...

My ex-boyfriend is a priest

I went to church today. The Priest was giving his last sermon of the summer before he goes back for his last year of God preachy school stuff so I thought I would go see if he is good at his new job. To be honest, perhaps because I'm not Roman Catholic, most of his short sermon was over my head. Except for the part that he alienated me (and probably a significant percentage of his congregation) with the phrase "the evils of artificial contraception". The sermon wasn't even about that, or gender issues at all. It was about the importance of the papacy in the lives of RCs. Anyway, even though I'm not practicing my own religion and know very little about it, I doubt I will ever convert to Catholicism.

Moving right along to Mr W (who is a practicing RC), his emails make me inordinately happy. If only our entire relationship could be conducted in writing. He's on dial up at the cottage so I can only really expect one per day but it makes me smile to see his name pop up in my Gmail notifier. I think we're going to Dream in the Park next week but he didn't specifically ask me to go with him so my response was equally ambiguous. I sent him the details without specifically using the words "I", "we" or "us". I hope he gets the hint. Apparently, during his undergrad, he was known as Captain Goodtimes, partly because he used to abuse the phrase "good times" and because he was a bit of a partier. I told him that I had trouble picturing that aspect of his character because my first impression of him was far more straight-laced and buttoned-down so he either needs a cape and tights or a new nickname. For the purposes of this blog, I will refer to him as Mr W. It's short for Mr Wiggles but don't tell anyone!

I'm hoping to get a large chunk of my lab work done this week, if not all of it. I can't wait for this to be over so I can start writing. I'm sure I won't feel that way in a few weeks. I'll be so sick of my keyboard and monitor, I'll want to throw them out the window. I must remember to write in different locations every day. There's school which really sucks because I can't seem to get on the wireless network. And the office which is only a 20 minute walk but likely to involve expensive lunches with downtown coworkers. Ah well, whatever it takes. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Lab work first. Then writing.

Date night with a nice man (part deux)

Date #2 was equally as pleasant as Date #1, but without alcohol and much more walking. And daylight. Lunch at Fran's Diner followed by a long, long walk to what used to be Tequila Bookworm (now called Greenavi) and a completion of the walk home. The Darwin exhibit closed in early August so we didn't make it to the ROM.

I don't know what to do with a gentleman with good manners. I'm so used to being on guard for attacks on my personal space that I sometimes have trouble making eye contact with him. I used to be shy in Grade 5. Perhaps that was the last time I met a nice person of the male gender.

Delorean asked me this evening, "do you like him?" I don't know. On the surface, yes, he seems very nice.

What is the difference between dating a gentleman and hanging out with a guy friend? I can't seem to tell. Perhaps that we haven't ruled out sleeping together? I flip flop between thinking that we have nothing in common and therefore I should never see him again and hoping that perhaps this normal dating thing will lead to a normal relationship thing. It's all very overwhelming and scary. I wonder if he feels it too. And when will we get to be ourselves with each other? Will it take longer because he's not actively trying to rip my clothes off at every opportunity?

He mentioned today that one advantage women have over men is that they have an established circle of friends with whom they can dissect a date. Men have no such support group. Unless the date happens to be heinous. I wonder if that means he's confused as well.

He's at the cottage this weekend so the earliest I will see him again is likely to be at the end of next week. If he calls. He did call today so perhaps he will call again.

Date night - not solo - with a nice man

Dating is so weird and awkward. I hate it. I had a nice, pleasant first date with a teacher this evening. Grade 5 and 6 with a math specialization. His last name is worthy of a cartoon character. We had plenty to talk about. He has good manners and dresses decently. Likes to dance which is a big bonus mark in his favour. But I felt less than comfortable. I think I just feel more at ease with the not-so-nice guys who take what they want, when they want it. Why? We're going to the Darwin exhibit at the ROM tomorrow. He said he would call late morning-ish. He didn't make a move. Well, not exactly anyway. He said I picked a cool ice cream spot and, as a prize, I could either have some of his ice cream cone or a kiss on the cheek. I shot that down. Because that's what bitchy girls do, right? Make men work for it. Right? Argh. I miss Grey.

Saudade

Alexandreena asked me what was Chapter 7 in the book "He's Just Not That Into You".

It occurs to me I have never blogged in detail about my break up with X. Perhaps just to maintain some anonymity but there is now so much detailed information on here that if any of my friends find this blog, they'll know it's me. So without further ado...

Chapter 7 is called "he's just not that into you if he doesn't want to marry you".

The subtitle for the chapter is "Love cures commitment-phobia". Given that X is now engaged, as much as I have trouble believing in "love", I have a feeling it may be true. For men, anyway.

This book was life-changing. I read it just after we broke up and, not that I needed the justification for ending our relationship, but it did provide me with some extra self-confidence for having made the right decision.

We broke up on Labour Day 2004. I had given him an ultimatum. Propose or I will move on. When I had moved from Toronto to Vancouver in 2003, we had already broken up once. Labour Day 2002. He had flown back from Vancouver and we spent the weekend with friends at a rented cottage. He had been living on the west coast since 2001, earlier if you count co-op terms. And I was getting tired of the long-distance relationship. I wanted to be with him but I was reluctant to move out there without a job and rely on him financially. If he changed his mind, I'd be screwed. And I figured, after 5 years of dating, if he wasn't ready to propose, then we were wasting our time.

We broke up that long weekend and he called me every day for weeks begging me to reconsider. I did. I requested a transfer to BC. And I got it. Because I'm that good. Seriously though, I wanted to get my own place. To take the pressure off our relationship. To build my own social circle and life. But he said not. He wanted us to live together, to save up for a down payment. He said he would propose after a year. Looking back on it, I was both feet in and he was one foot out.

I waited a year. Our anniversary came and went. My birthday, Christmas, New Year's, Valentine's. In the spring of 2004, we went to Mexico together. By that time, our relationship had become mostly platonic. I had intended to go by myself because he went to Vegas the week before. But he wanted to go and offered to pay for the trip if I waited for him. How is a girl going to turn that down? We had fun. Relaxed and snorkeled and ate and drank. When I got sunstroke on our last day there, I made him go to dinner by himself. Why should he miss out on the best seafood restaurant at the resort just because I was sick? I certainly wouldn't have. He said "oh that's too bad, I was going to propose tonight." I laughed and said "that's not funny!" Yeah, we were that couple.

He had joked around at other times too. Saying it would come when I was least expecting it. Like when I was sitting on the toilet and had run out of paper. He would hold me hostage and exchange my hand for a roll of toilet paper. That way I couldn't say no. But when it came time to looking at houses, he was borderline panicked about what we could and couldn't afford. He wouldn't even go to open houses. I think that was when I started to realize we might not have a happy ending. Hence the ultimatum.

In the summer of 2004, I was working in north coastal BC and had been rotating up there for several weeks. I was promoted as a result of taking on the position at short notice and I was rapidly learning that I was far more capable than I had ever dreamed. I was managing people, responding quickly to requests for work and information, liaising with government officials and dealing with irascible men who I knew pictured me naked often. The ones that didn't treated me like the daughter they never had. It was an eye-opening project for me. Of course, it took a toll on my personal life but I was 26 and ready to be "successful" at any cost. And it was fun. I enjoyed the challenges of living and working "up north", away from the resources of big city and home office.

And, the men were men. If I needed a platform built, I just had to turn around and a carpenter was sawing and nailing pieces of plywood. If I needed a sampling utensil, the metal worker was soldering an aluminium can to a long narrow stainless steel handle. If I needed something shipped to Vancouver overnight, the site manager was placing a call to Air Canada cargo and instructing one of his guys to load the coolers in the van and drive. Things got done. Not always quickly or with a minimum of political fuss. But they got done. I was slowly realizing that the same could never be said for X. I'm not sure when I realized that he was never going to be the man I needed him to be.

He flew up to see me for the long weekend. It required not-so-gentle persuasion on my part. That I was off for the weekend, that I had a rental car, that he could stay with me in the rented house. That we'd be alone and that I wouldn't get unexpectedly called into work. We drove to Alaska. It was probably the best road trip we have ever been on.

Wait, it might have been the only road trip we have ever been on. We stayed in Stewart overnight and then drove through Hyder to the old abandoned mines the following day. He told me later that he was going to put the ring in his belly button when he was lying in bed but then changed his mind. He has a phobia of people touching his belly button.

If you drive north from Hyder, you won't be disappointed. There are mountains and glaciers and rock falls. You will need 4 Wheel Drive, even in the summer. Labour Day long weekend was chilly enough for layers. It was really a beautiful drive. We stopped countless times to take photos and just look around. There was nobody around for miles. We finally stopped at an old mine site about 2 hours up the track. I was happy, we were both happy. It was beautiful and breathtaking. We took lots of photos. One of him standing in front of the mine entrance.

One of me jumping up in the air with the glaciers in the background.

Okay fine, I'm not actually in that one but I don't have the photoshop skills to edit myself out of a photo.

I knew this was it. This was the highlight of our trip.

After this, it was all downhill. Literally. We were just going back the way we came.

He said "so, do you want your ring now?"

I told him I wasn't sure what he was asking me. "Well, I didn't have time to buy you the ring I wanted". Never mind that I had been to Spence Diamonds, picked out a ring, given him the jeweler's business card. "I'll only give it to you if you promise not to show it to anyone else".

"You know, this isn't very romantic."
"Yeah, you're right. I'll stop."

Then he had to pee on the glacier. Because boys have to pee on glaciers, right?

I felt deflated. A little in shock. I wanted to say, as we were driving away, "are you sure there isn't something you want to say to me?" But I said nothing. The drive back to Stewart was very quiet. He told me later that he was totally freaked out by the drive back. The chasm that dropped away to nothing on his right hand side. It reminded him of family vacations in northern Ontario when he spent the entire drive thinking he was going to die. When I asked him why he didn't say anything, he had no explanation. I would have let him drive.

We drove for several hours before he said anything. After 7 years, you get comfortable with silence. Eventually he said, "sometimes I wonder why I do the things I do." It was so clear to me then that this was never going to happen for us. That he didn't want to be with me. That he wasn't ever going to be ready to marry me. That, even though it was important to me to declare to the world that we were ready to move forward with our lives, all the things he said he wanted too, a house, a puppy, a garden, he wasn't actually ready for. At least, not with me. And when I try to remember, I don't think I ever heard the words "I want to marry you" come out of his mouth.

He tried to propose again. We stopped at a provincial park overlooking the Skeena River. I burst into tears. It wasn't how I pictured it. His proposing out of desperation. I told him not to make it harder for both of us. He held me and cried with me.

He slept on the couch that night. I could hear him crying through my own heartbroken tears. I moved out when I got home from that rotation. His friends told him I was only doing it to get attention. I had hoped he would want to fix things when I got home. He didn't even try. When I signed a lease and started packing, he told me that he didn't want me to go. He cried. When I finally moved out, he said "I'll miss your car."

Yeah, I know.

We stayed friends. For over a year, we hung out together, had dinner together almost every day, socialized together, talked on the phone at least once during the work day, were constantly on MSN. He recorded Oprah for me and I watched it while doing laundry at his place when he was out playing basketball or soccer.

Oh that's another thing. Less than 6 months after we broke up, he bought a condo for roughly the amount that we were planning to spend on a house. So much for his financial fears. I even found the ring and the receipt later. It was under $50. Which would have been fine if he had proposed properly. I wouldn't have let him buy me a "real" ring. If he had said "I love you, will you marry me?", I would be wearing that ring today.

He also started playing the guitar and being more adventurous with his cooking. It was like he was finally free to figure out who he really was. It took him two years to admit that he was afraid to talk to me. Afraid of change. That, if I hadn't bailed on the relationship, that we would still be stuck in unhappy.

His mother told me once that X develops obsessions with things. The Blue Jays, Wrestling, Star Wars, Pearl Jam. They would last for years. Approximately 7. When we were 21, I told him that he couldn't break up with me after I turned 27 because then I would be an old maid. After we broke up, my mother reminded me of this. I was still 26 when we broke up. My birthday is in November. It has lasted just under 7 years. My parents no longer pressure me about marriage and kids. I think it has become taboo. Now, I doubt I will ever get married. Certainly, I believe it's overrated. Relationships end.

I thought I was moving on as quickly as I knew how. Turns out it has taken years to get over him. All those other guys that came right after were just me punishing myself for not being good enough. Maybe I'm still doing that.

Maybe I'm not in love with Grey. Maybe he just makes me feel alive when he's bad to me. Because the only feeling I've become comfortable with is pain. Happiness inevitably leads to disappointment.

I just remembered, we did go on one other road trip. We went to the Okanagan Valley over the Victoria Day weekend in 2006. He had already started dating his now-fiancee but he didn't tell her he was going with me. He tagged along at the last minute, which is so typical of his bandwagon-jumping style. I let him come on one condition. That he would drive when I wanted to have a glass of wine at dinner. We had a really great time. A relaxing, platonic, argument-free time. That was the best road trip we have ever been on. I miss his friendship but I know I will never get that back. There's a word for this in portuguese. Saudade. Sadness for happy memories.

But I'd rather be alone than be with a man that needs to be told to drive.

Solo date night part deux

I have been reading this blog and I find it tremendously entertaining. I want to comment but I'm afraid to delurk. Mostly because I want to date Lonely Monkey but obviously can't.
http://notenoughmonkeys.blogspot.com/

I went to see Mamma Mia and Sex and the City today. And yes, I paid for both. I am feeling a bit overwhelmed with rah rah wedding love crap. But overall, I enjoyed them both. Laughed and cried and sighed at the handsome men. I've been waiting an eternity for Colin Firth and Pierce Brosnan to be in a movie together. I can't say more without spoilers so I'll refrain. I also love Chris Noth in a pre-Big, Mike Logan way. God, I want all three of those men to chase me down and whisper love letters from great men in my ear. At the same time.

Speaking of, I think I turned down a date. The Kid asked me out to dinner tomorrow night. I declined. Because I don't want to go. I saw him on Sunday and I know I don't want to date him and this is too soon for me to hang out with a new male friend. So I made my regrets plausibly because I need to spend a full day in the lab tomorrow and those days always go longer than anticipated. I said I would feel bad making tentative plans knowing I might have to bail at the last minute. I hope he isn't disappointed. I'm obviously making a huge assumption that he is more than just lonely and looking for a friend. But I don't want to go. So I'm not. I'm saying no. Unusual for me. I want to call Grey. But I won't. Because that won't make me feel better either.

So, instead, I'm going to dance around the living room in the dark for a bit.

Thunderstorms

I, too, would like to be caught in a thunderstorm with a man who is large enough to shelter me from the elements. Preferably pressed against something solid with my shirt off. Sorry, I meant his shirt.

Tea and Amal

I had a great day. Tonight I went to see the movie Amal and I have to write a review. I loved it that much. I'm probably slightly biased. The writer, Shaun Mehta, is a friend of mine. Richie is his brother. They were there tonight along with Gurpreet Chana and Rupinder Nagra. I am officially a Mehta groupie. I have added both of Shaun's books to my amazon shopping cart. I am just trying to think of any other books I might want to order before I purchase.

I had tea this afternoon at the Millcroft Inn in Caledon. It sucked. Don't go there. I wrote a review of that as well. I might post it later if there's any interest. While it was nice to spend the afternoon with the ladies who do tea, it was a waste of gas money and $20.

Amal, the movie
When was the last time you saw a really great movie? One that made you laugh, cry and swear out loud in the theatre? That made you think. Question your values. Shifted your perspective on your fundamental beliefs?

This evening, I saw Amal. If you have a heart, a soul or a conscience, you should see this movie. Forgo the action flick just this once and see something that will make you leave the theatre wanting to phone someone, anyone, just to express how alive you feel.

I'm not sure I can do justice to this movie without spoilers. Consider yourself disclaimed...

The movie was filmed in Delhi, a city I have visited as a child and as an adult. While I am Indian, I rarely identify with my heritage. I may look brown but I feel more at home at dim sum or driving a pick up truck. I'm not qualified to review the technical aspects of any film. I can say though that I will never look at Delhi the same again. To be sure, I have always appreciated the cultural richness, wondered at the congestion, railed at the uncivilization and marveled at the happily functioning chaos. If you have never been to India, the images will leave you breathless. If you have, it's like going home.

I white-knuckled my way through the entire 101 minutes, anxious and hopeful and outraged and sad. I have to give credit to The Kid for putting up with my muttered cursing and strangled "argh!"s without once reaching over to duct tape my mouth shut. I'm a total sucker for a happy ending and there were parts of this story that made me feel frustrated and powerless. I wanted everyone to live happily ever after. Did they? Did it all work out right in the end? You'll have to decide for yourself.

The characters were confusing in their complexity. Amal himself is no hero. He is touchingly naive in his simplicity. Or do I mean frustratingly childlike? The "bad guy" isn't immediately alienating. At first, I recognized him from other movies and I wanted so badly to like him. In fact, I still want to like him. He might be as tormented as your run-of-the-mill comic book villain but he has an all-too-human face. The heroine at first seems far from it. But eventually she garnered my sympathy and admiration. While it would be easy to sit here comfortably judging their choices and actions, in the silent darkness when the voices are loudest, I know I will wonder if I would have behaved any differently?

In the interest of full disclosure, I know Shaun. So perhaps I am a tiny bit biased. I now consider myself a Mehta groupie. Please go see this movie. Go today. If you don't take something away from it, I will take you to anything else you would rather see.

And now, I must work on my prayers. If I'm very good, perhaps God will send me a mother-in-law...

Find a showtime in your city:
In Toronto, Cineplex Odeon Varsity
55 Bloor St. W, Toronto
12:50 3:35 6:55 9:20
Everywhere else
http://www.tribute.ca/by_movie/Amal/16211

Shake it, shake shake it...

I shook it like a polaroid picture and came home with a centrepiece. Yay random fish bowl vase and sickly pink flowers! The wedding was nice. I had to escape for a while. Perhaps too much wine and "ra ra marriage" crap. But overall I had a great time and I wish I could have danced for longer. Yeah, it does suck to be the single girl at weddings. But I've decided that I'm not settling for marriage unless I can find me a man that can twirl me around the dance floor the way the groom's parents did tonight. It was lovely and that's my dream. A dream is a wish that the heart makes, right?

Tomorrow, high tea with the ladies at the Millcroft Inn in Caledon followed by Amal in the evening with the kid. My horoscope says I'm in for a wonderful few days. I certainly hope that's true. A good friend is defending on Monday morning so I'm setting aside the entire day for that. Tuesday I have to prepare for clients and go to school. Wednesday and Thursday are major client and site related activities. Nothing planned for the weekend yet.

Oh, and how cool is the Batmobile?? We killed 3 hours this afternoon between ceremony and reception at the movies. Having never seen any of the other Batman movies, I have no idea if this one was up to par. But that Christian Bale... ROWR!

Yes, why bother with a bad kisser?

I forgot to mention that Denis is a terrible kisser.

I was thinking about Grey on the drive home today. Only because that's what I always do when I drive home from Baby's house. It has been a very, very long time since I drove back from her house. Since before Denis, I think. Since camping, I think.

I can't decide if I miss Grey or not. I think I don't. I think I finally want better. Different better. Funny better. Supportive better. Conversational better. Respectful better.

My right tonsil is still huge.

Watching the Olympics in fast forward

Honestly, if I have to listen to Scott Russell and Diana Swain flirt for a national audience any longer, I will scream. Ian Hanomansing's thinly veiled smug superiority towards Shaun Majumder's particular brand of Rajbinder humour isn't exactly palatable either. (I know, I know, Ian's just uptight because he's jealous that Shaun figured out how to remove the cork from his butt). Fortunately, I watch TV on my computer. This means I can fast forward through CBC's largely inane, uninformative and repetitive coverage of the Beijing Olympics. It is also handy for watching instant replays on my own time. Like when the Japanese athlete falls off the rings. Or for improving my synchronized diving judging skills.

I was about to tell Victoria all about watching TV on my computer but I didn't want to blather on in her comments section so I thought I would do it here. After all, what is a blog for if not for bloghorrhea? So this is how you too can watch TV on your computer.

When you're a giant geekette like me and build your computer to personalized specs (I'd really like to replace my blue LEDs with pink ones, anyone?), you can put in a tv tuner (a thing you plug your cable or rabbit ears into) and software that allows you to record tv which can then be played back, fast fowarded, paused etc. If you've ever seen a PVR or DVR, it's essentially the same thing.

There are many variations of such hardware and software. I had originally intended to pay for cable but I get 6 channels (CBC, CTV, TVOntario, Global, CFMT and City) and that's enough for now. If you want to watch one channel while recording another, you need 2 tv tuners. Oh, and you can download about 2 weeks of tv guide programming information using that software which allows you to program recordings ahead of time. (Yay nightly CSI reruns!) And generally you would want a decent monitor. I have a 22" widescreen which is fine for those all-too-often "snowy" rabbit ears days.

Letter to Grey

I wrote this email to Grey.

I'm underwhelmed by your concern for my health. You'll be happy to know that the strep test results came back today. They were negative. However, that begs the question, why is my right tonsil roughly the size of Liechtenstein? My doctor is pretty sure that it isn't regular tonsillitis. It could be mono. But more likely, it's the plague.

She has quarantined me until further notice. I am allowed to take the subway because it's practically a biohazard zone anyway. And I can go to the Dominion on campus to get groceries because that place is full of rats. And Old Chinatown. But I can't go to suburbia or any other groceries stores or take the streetcar. She also informed me that, as a public health hazard, I am required to notify the authorities of anyone with whom I might have played tonsil hockey or otherwise exchanged saliva. I had to tell her about you. They are coming for you. I'm not sure where you are. You don't appear to be home from the cottage yet so likely Toronto Public Health has requisitioned the RCMP and several local military bases to storm random cottages in Gananoque looking for you. Or children that look like you who have raging fevers and enlarged necks.

If you need me, I'll be sitting here at my desk. Waiting for you to express some kind of concern. Perhaps you're just trying to prove a point. That I'm not actually your girlfriend and shouldn't be mistaken for anyone who might have such a privilege. Or maybe you're already dead from the plague. One can only hope.

Perhaps there was a little too much vitriol at the end there. Blame it on the throbbing mass trying to escape from my ear canal.

Chicken soup?

My doctor was suitably impressed at the disgusting state of my tonsils and how far out of my neck my glands are protruding. She might even have said "wow". Maybe I should take a photo and post it on the internet. I'm on antibiotics for 7 to 10 days, depending on whether or not it's strep. Blood work and swab results will come in tomorrow. She thinks it might even be mono. So... back to the couch Olympics. Oh yeah, she also told me to stop kissing so many boys. They're gross. I should kiss girls instead.

Unsympathetic jerk

Grey is such a fucker. He just called me to bitch and moan that he's supposed to go up to the cottage and he feels fine but doesn't want to go if he's going to get sick. He wanted to know how long it took me to get sick and how bad it was. No friggin' sympathy or anything. Just "goddammit, there's going to be kids up there". I really want to write him a flamer right now but maybe I'll wait and be scathing later on this afternoon. I didn't want to go paddleboarding on Thursday because I wasn't feeling 100% and he called me chicken shit. I told him we shouldn't have sex because my glands were swollen and I was probably coming down with something but he jumped me anyway. Serves him damn well right. Jerk.

I'm going to school now. I will probably be a walking public health hazard but it's a sacrifice I am forced to make in the pursuit of my stinkin' graduate degree. I don't have the time, energy or resources to start this experiment over again and that's what I would have to do if I don't go to school today. I'd rather whimper and crawl back into bed. Instead, I'm going to go in, turn on the muffle furnace, put the desiccant in the other furnace and come home for breakfast. I hate school. I think I hate Grey too.

UPDATE: He's on his way to the cottage. Jerk.

Streptillitis

So, my dad seems to think I have strep throat or tonsillitis. I described my tonsils to him last night in an email and got an email this morning telling me to go see my doctor so that she could put me on antibiotics as soon as possible. I have to be at school all day tomorrow - and will likely be a public health hazard - but I'm going to see her on Wednesday morning. Maybe after she puts me on antibiotics I can pick up bubble tea on the way home. God forbid I actually have to have my tonsils out. They don't do that anymore do they?

I couldn't sleep last night. It seemed that every time I started to drift off into dreamland, I had nightmares about Denis and Oompa Loompas. I think I finally got a couple of hours sleep late this morning before I got up and walked to the grocery store and school. Fortunately I was only at school for a few minutes to put a note on the muffle furnace. I had mashed potatoes for dinner. Ate them out of the pot while sitting on the couch watching the whitewater kayaking portion of the Olympics. I think that makes me a mashed couch potato.

UPDATE: Grey sent me a text message. His glands are swollen and he feels like he's starting to come down with something. Now I feel guilty. For telling X that I hope he gets it too and saying "muahaha". Karma. Damn.

98 F thank you 400 mg ibuprofen every 8 hours

Really. Nothing. Except to say that I wish Asshat would quit wordily woolgathering wherever he is and move up here and be my laundry bitch already.

Ick still sick

I really have nothing to post except for sordid sicky details. A's parents came by with food. I have spent the entire day alternating between freezing cold and sweating like a racehorse on ecstasy. Did a load of laundry and am glad I have at least 3 sets of summer pjs. It still hurts to talk and swallow. My hips ache too. Damn old age. Been watching the Olympics when not in too much pain to focus. My mother said that viruses make the fever worse at certain times of the day. As loath as I am to believe anything she says, I'm beginning to wonder if she might be right. That Kyle Shewfelt really is something. I emailed him. I doubt he'll ever read it but I had to let him know how inspiring his story is. Was feeling better earlier this evening and even ordered a pizza. Now my large intestine is protesting. The weather has been appropriate - thunder and lightning and rain all day. Very glad I didn't go camping. Wish that Grey would call or text to find out if I was okay. Am thoroughly enjoying the RBC Olympics commercials but am unsurprised that not a single Air Canada employee appears happy in theirs.

08/08/08

Today has not been a particularly auspicious day and I am very superstitious when it comes to Chinese culture. If somebody asked me to pick a number between 1 and 10, I would pick 8. 1 and 100, 88. 4 is unlucky. And I never give clocks as gifts. My point being that I have a fever of 101.3 and rising, apparently. I fell asleep both times I tried to watch the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. Fortunately I recorded it. Both times.

Denis came by with drugs which was good of him. A friend called and offered but then, when she found out that my friend who hates her husband was coming anyway, she called and told her what I needed. Unfortunately, she only showed up with zucchini banana loaf and lemons. So I text messaged Denis and he delivered. Extra strength ibuprofen and extra strength neo citran. We didn't really talk about too much as I felt like I was going to fall over. I wanted to ask him if he put his profile back online after we got back or some time during the weekend. But I guess it's not that important in the grand scheme of things. There are many things I like about him but there are enough that drive me nuts.

I wish Grey was more affectionate and caring.

Still sick and somewhat confused

Argh. Am well and truly sick. Right gland is swollen and protruding out of my neck. Drinking Neo Citran but unlikely to go camping tomorrow.

Spent the day with Grey. Was no water in my apartment building this morning so called him to bitch and moan. He said I should come over and shower and then go for dim sum. Then we spent the afternoon alternately having sex and paddleboarding (also known as stand up paddle surfing). It was good but really wore me out. We also watched a movie, I think. I forget. Oh right, What Happens in Vegas. It was actually quite funny. There was some tv in there as well. Last Comic Standing. Overall he was quite good to me. He even made me laugh. I guess he's the kind of man that likes to punish himself. Didn't ask me once about the other man. Perhaps that makes us perfect for each other.

Denis sent a text message late tonight. Turns out he dropped off some stuff for me this evening. I had left my bug spray at the cottage and he also built me a pipette stand. Unfortunately, it won't work even a little bit because he didn't keep my drawing. But I suppose it's the thought that counts. He's totally sending mixed messages. He said he built it because he was thinking about me. Probably thinking about how great the sex was and what an idiot he was for being the one to cut it off. He also said I should keep his sweater as a gift and that he would return my book after he had finished reading it. And that he hoped he would see me again and maybe we could hang out. That if I needed anything, I should call him because he's there for me. To quote a friend, "Jeebus!" What the heck is his problem?

8am update: Definitely not going camping. Fever of 99.7. Was chilly all night. Tossed and turned. Now hurts even more to swallow. Need anaesthesia.

Pukey McPuke-alot

Food poisoning sucks. Throwing up bites. It was coming out of both ends for a while there. Damn beef Shawarma. I'm very glad I have two bathrooms. I know it sounds ridiculously neurotic but I like having one toilet bowl to throw up in and the other to do everything else in! If my head is going to be next to ceramic, it better be bleached and sparkly until the moment I puke.

I called Grey and he delivered. Brought me everything I asked for in under an hour. White Wonder bread, Canada Dry ginger ale, President's Choice organic chicken broth. I almost called Denis but I thought, of the two that I want to keep, Grey is definitely it. But now I'm thinking that perhaps I should keep both and have a relationship with neither.

First though, a nap.

Jerk

Two weekends ago, A's boyfriend dumped her. Dumbass. He was a jerk about it too. Just snapped. Told her he had been miserable for the past two years. We're both wallowing in it a bit. I just finished a 2 hour phone call with her. The second of the day. Although, technically, there was one 2 hour phone call on Tuesday and one 2 hour phone call today. There were words coming to me about how another small piece my heart turns to stone with every increment of relationship failure. How, one day soon, my friends will look into my eyes and find a soul turned to granite. At least, it will no longer be tortured. But then the words dissipated and I fell asleep on the phone. It's just as well really. She was off to the gym. She's several time zones away. I miss her.

Monday morning blahs

Except it's not Monday. But I'm still feeling the Monday painful.

Grey called me this morning when I was driving back from my doctor's appointment. Surprising. Fortunately I do have to go to school today and can't just go hang out with him.

Last night, I noticed that Denis had edited and reposted his online profile. So I sent him an email for clarification and explaining that I just wouldn't be calling him ever again. His response was that he thought it was pretty clear that we didn't have a solid foundation to build on and that maybe if we were just friends I would be less critical of him. I don't think I want to be friends with him.

Dating is for dummies.

Art schmart fart tart bart cart dart part... wart?

Wow! Thanks to Alexandreena at http://alexandreena.blogspot.com/ for this award. This award originates from Arte y Pico.

GO! READ! NOW!

I was speechless for a little while hence the ridiculous title of this post. I'm tongue-in-cheek mocking myself but really I'm secretly pleased :)

The guidelines for this are as follows:

1) Choose 5 blogs that you consider deserving of this award based on creativity, design, interesting material, and overall contribution to the blogger community, regardless of the language.

2) Post the name of the author and a link to his or her blog by so everyone can view it.

3) Each award-winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award.

4) The award-winner and the presenter should post the link of the “Arte y pico” blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award.

5) Please post these rules.

And then it took me a while to comb through my entire blogroll but here it is:

CCE at http://www.madmarriage.com/blog/
BHJ at http://windinyourvagina.blogspot.com/
Charming at http://charmingbutsingle.com/
Fish at http://thisfish.ivillage.com/love/
Harlan at http://soveryalone.com/

3 days too long

I'm home. The smell of my apartment as I walked in the door was very comforting. I think I'm going to shower and then lie on the couch watching CSI for the rest of the night. It was an exhausting weekend. Exhausting because I'm no longer used to navigating the intricacies of a relationship. Exhausting because this particular relationship is unsustainable. Exhausting because it's hard work pretending that everything is fine.

There are so many things about Denis that I don't like:
1. His temper. His response to disagreement is to raise his voice and get in your face. So completely different from my own response.

2. His "passion". To me, his passion is just childish temper so I guess this would be part of the above. He gets so worked up about things over which he has no control but doesn't do anything to mediate his own response to those things. For example, on Friday night we had a huge argument over the top news story. Some guy murdered a kid on a Greyhound bus. Denis started spouting off his conspiracy theories about how the mainstream media is controlled by a select few people with an agenda... and to be honest, I'm not entirely sure what his point was. So I lost my temper and yelled back that I didn't appreciate him following me around the kitchen berating me about my opinion before I'd had a chance to fully articulate it. Then I cried. That's when I knew this thing would crash and burn. I think I need to be with someone who just knows to take a deep breath and turn the TV off.

3. He has to be right all the time. I have spent the last 10 years or more learning how to pick my battles. Before, it was more important that X knew I was right than to keep the peace. I learned from him that the truth is not the most important thing in a relationship. So while I spent the majority of the weekend biting my tongue, Denis kept saying things like "see, I told you so" and crowing when he thought I was conceding a point. That really wore me down.

4. His play fighting. Or whatever it really is. Maybe he just underestimates his own strength but he has a tendency to hurt me. Often. He'll pinch or bite or suck too hard. And not just during sex, which would be acceptable occasionally. But when I'm making a cup of tea in the kitchen. Or at the grocery store. When he grabbed my breast with his mouth while we were standing on the dock with his friends, I almost wanted to cry. I have talked to him about how inappropriate that is and how uncomfortable it makes me feel. I've asked him not to hurt me. But it seems to fall on deaf ears. He's like a large puppy that I can't control.

5. His poor listening skills. I'll say one thing and he seems to hear something else. Which is most frustrating when he's criticizing his friends for being fixated on what they're thinking and not listening to him. When his good friend said at lunch today "I don't want to talk about it anymore" and got up from the table, you'd think he would shut up. But no. He was like a bull in a china shop. Not until I said in the car that I was gritting my teeth to prevent myself from saying something I would regret but he was making it very hard for me did he stop talking. It was a very quiet ride home.

Perhaps these are character traits of a normal man but I'm not sure I want to be exposed to all that on an ongoing basis. While the sex and the cuddles and the food are good, the conversation seems to have deteriorated. The chronic also bothers me but I don't feel in a position to ask that he stop smoking it. Or even cut down. I lost count but I think he was up to 5 or 6 joints per day. Shared between friends. But still.

Probably the worst moment, though, was when he said "fuck you" to me when I called him sensitive. He was joking but it really stung.

Grey called on Friday night. It was late and we were getting ready for bed. It really threw me and I found myself thinking about him all weekend. I told him that sex was no longer an option and that I'm a one-man kind of woman. But I don't think he believes me. I'm not sure I believe myself either. He text messaged me again this afternoon while we were sitting in traffic. "Are you back in the city?" "2 hours" "Are we getting together?" "Traffic not good. Will call when I'm home". I had intended to tell him that having sex with him was not what I needed right now but he didn't ask me to come over. Instead he told me he was off this week and invited me to go paddle boarding. I said yes but we didn't decide on a time. I really don't want to see him or talk to him again but I can't bring myself to cut that cord.

I feel lost and confused.