Homeless and unemployed

It's Friday morning at the end of a life-changing week. I'm sitting on Jesus' couch watching Olympic coverage. It's 9.30 am and I'm still in my pjs. I'm backing up my laptop in case I have to give it back while I'm in BC. My stuff is in Mr and Mrs Happy's basement - thank God for them - and my car is with Baby's friend which is also a relief. A couple of the grad students helped keep me sane on moving day which was one of the longest days of my life. So I am now officially homeless. I will be unemployed at the end of next week so I guess that makes me a hobo. I have decided to stay in Vancouver indefinitely until I make a decision about work. I figure it makes more sense to be there where it's warm and I can at least get outside during the day. I'll be staying with MFV and we will hopefully not want to kill each other after a few days. If I decide to come back to Toronto, I will have nowhere to live so I'm not anxious to return until I have to. I am hoping to see King Tut before I leave so I should get moving with my morning. Next time I write will probably be the other side of our road trip to Oregon.

Not crazy

I'm moving to Vancouver on Friday! I'm pretty excited. I will be much happier on Wednesday after the movers leave and I have a lot to do before then. But, for those of you paying attention, they couldn't make me an offer within an acceptable timeframe so it was not to be. I'm glad. And MFV is happy. I'm hoping there's something there. But even if that doesn't work out, I'll be able to finally retire my Lululemon merino wool longjohns. People, there's a snow storm in Toronto tonight. I like to think this is Toronto's way of saying good bye... or just "so long sucker".

Last day

It's my last day. I'm not leaving the company, just the office. I have mixed feelings. I'm sad about leaving my group but can't take much more of the project. I have worked a lot of hours recently and I'm exhausted and there are still team members who bitch and moan in meetings and make me want to kill myself, despite the fact that I know that I'm leaving. I won't miss those people. But I will miss the girls. They're a highly intelligent, very personable bunch of women. Hopefully I don't cry in front of everyone.

Oops, I did it again

Holy comments Batman! Okay fine, I will spill the beans.

Rain had it right in his comment on my last entry. So.SO.RIGHT. What do you know? I mixed beer and liquor. In the same glass. Three times.

Jesus and I went to the Bier Market and I love their take on my old standby, the Kir Royale. At the Bier Markt, naturally it's called a Bier Royale. We started out by having a good time but then a heinous combination of sequences occurred. I was drunk. He was drunk. Too drunk to drive, in fact. Which was not cool. He was clingy and gropey and condescending. Actually, he was that guy in the club who is being a complete jackass jerk to his date and you wonder why she's there with him because clearly she's cute and can do better. Okay fine, that's what the cute boy (Paul? Or was it Sean?) said to me. "Why are you with him? You obviously don't want to be. And you're cute. You can do better". Uh, hi Paul, YOU are a cutey-patootie. Can I put you in my pocket and take you home? Sorry, I digress...

I was irritable and cranky (okay perhaps this has nothing to do with booze!) and totally a complete bitch to him because I was tired of him constantly grabbing me and crowding me while we were dancing. Not to mention the completely condescending random comments about trivial meaningless crap. Ugh, gropey and condescending. How is this a turn on? Play hard to get dammit, but don't be a jerk. Ugh. Listen gentlemen, when we're out in public and I repeatedly take your hand off my waist, don't keep grabbing it! AUGH.

Anyway, when cutey pie Paul ended up with butchy she-male in a wife-beater, Jesus noticed me noticing them and said, "are you jealous?" "No, but I didn't think he'd end up with her". "True, he can do better." "Well, that's what he said about me."

Collective blog gasp.

Yes, it was a totally bitchy thing to say but, by that time, I had had enough of his condescending bullshit and gropey wandering hands and should have left on my own terms. But he had my coat check ticket (house keys were in the coat) and my leftover pizza in his car and he was too drunk to drive anywhere. I kept telling myself that here a nice guy and I should be more forgiving and less of a complete raving beyotch. Just goes to show that my judgment where men are concerned is completely, totally, utterly worthless.

So, I walked home drunk by myself and he followed for a bit. I don't know when I lost him, maybe about half way, which is when I phoned MFV. And, though he was drunk himself, he was smart enough to realize that I was not okay. He insisted that I text when I got home and then phoned me later to make sure I was actually alive. I was fast asleep and have no recollection of the conversation. He does want to know what happened but I can't bring myself to tell him. Yet. Maybe next weekend. Or next month. Or never.

I'm too ashamed of myself. I should not have let myself get into that predicament with a strange man, even if His name is Jesus! A girlfriend pointed out on Saturday that he's actually only just doing the minimum to try and get me in bed before I leave. He's not meeting my friends or having dinner but he has no problem taking me to bar and getting me drunk. Thank God I didn't have sex with him. I confess though, I did think about it. I mean, maybe if he hadn't been a total jerk and we both hadn't been disgusto drunk... Ugh.

So, I'm over Jesus and this really is the epilogue in my dating memoirs. I guess I should change the title of this blog again. Suggestions? "How about Catatonia and catnaps: the chronicles of a catless cat lady".

Happy nude ear!

I wish for more shoes, more booze and fewer losers all round!

Oooh fireworks outside my window! Pretty :)

I'm starting 2010 with my new Sonicare toothbrush and a sober good night phone call to MFV.

I did it

I started the ball rolling on the contract negotiations. I emailed my old boss this evening to ask for more money and an extra week of vacation. I didn't want to negotiate with him unless I was serious about moving back to Vancouver. But I made my decision today. Tomorrow I have to phone my landlady. I should send her an email now though, before I forget.

Okay, that's done. It's official. I'm moving out of here, and hopefully either into a storage space or a new condo in February! Yipes.

I was really having trouble deciding. I emailed MFV to ask him why he wasn't texting me every two hours, "Mooove back to Vancouver" but he was busy at work and, while I was dancing in the dark in my living room - dancing helps me think - I realized that I had nobody to talk to. So I sent a text message to my sister: "Should I stay in Toronto or moove back to Vancouver". She replied, "Move back to Vancouver". So, while I was emailing my old boss, MFV messaged me, "Moove back to Vancouver". We'll see what happens with the negotiations this week.

I'm going to bed. I missed my bed all day today. Tomorrow, I will tell you all about the cool stuff I bought at the One of A Kind Show this weekend.

I drunk

Thursday, bubbles, weed and sex.
Friday, bubbles and fondue and Crown and ginger.
Saturday, red wine.
Sunday, tea.
Monday, sangria, blow job (free, with whipped cream, look ma no hands!), beer.
Tuesday...

DONE!

I'm done! DONE! DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE! Yay :)

God, it is such a good feeling. I am so relieved it's over. And it went surprisingly well. To be honest (because I can do that here), I am really impressed at myself for doing such a good job with the presentation and the questions. It felt as though they went on and on forever but actually it was short at an hour and 15 minutes. I got a lot of compliments on the quality of my work and my thesis document itself. The former chair of the program (who is a silver fox hottie with a wonderful exotic accent) said that he really liked what I had done and was happy. When I left the room for their deliberations, he said to me, "you can relax now". Le sigh. I think I am in love with that man. Anyway, many compliments later, they nominated me for the Governor General's Gold medal award. Nobody from my program has ever won it because it's tough to publish in science but it felt good to even get the nomination and it will look rather nice on my CV :)

Grey was good enough to come pick me up after I had a few celebratory drinks. At one point, just as we were getting into bed, I was lying there thinking, "what if I just dreamed all of this and I have to defend it all over again!" Momentary panic. I imagine I will have more days of waking up and thinking those thoughts.

For now, back to bed for a nap. This afternoon, I have a big pile of library books to return. And this evening, more drinks with bubbles :)

Congratulations me!

D-Day

It is D-day. One more sleep and then I will wake up and do the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. I know it will be hard because this is my life we're talking about. One more sleep with my thesis and the whole thing will (hopefully) be over. Although... there is a guy in my program who defended today and did such a stellar (sarcastic) job that he has to re-defend in 2 months. Apparently this "university" just will not let anyone fail! Yay for that. This time tomorrow I plan to be drizzunk and/or asleep. One Master's thesis defense coming right up.

DUCK!

I cannot wait to say "duck you for-ducking-ever thesis!"

I also cannot wait for it to be Friday so that I can get drunk and pass out on my couch before 8 pm.

Cooling off

He's doing it too. The same thing they always do. Sigh. Not even a divorced goofball with a kid is attracted to me long enough to find out what I'm really like.

No closure here

I find myself mentally making lists of all the things that could have gone wrong during and since that weekend in Montreal:

I said something heinous.
I did something heinous.
I wasn't fun enough.
I wasn't funny enough.
I wasn't well-dressed enough.
I didn't pretend to have a good time when I wasn't feeling well.
I got upset when he started to be distant with me.
I was too clingy.
I was too honest.
I didn't stroke his ego enough.
I wasn't bitchy enough.
I was too bitchy.
I don't make enough money.
I pay too much rent.
I paid too much attention to him.
I sent him too many emails.
We didn't have enough sex.
The sex wasn't good enough.
His friend/sister said that she didn't like me.
He got bored.
He got scared.
He met someone.
He got back together with his ex.

Okay, I realize I will never know but making the list makes me feel better.

Today we had a St Paddy's day party at the office. I grabbed a glass of white wine but I didn't have time to drink it before I went to the gym. So I dumped it into my travel mug and brought it home. How terrible is that?? Anyway, I'm going to finish it off and go to bed.

Not that into me

I think it ended badly. I say "I think" because it all happened so fast. He was cold and cruel and angry and distant. I'm not sure why he even phoned me today. I cried so hard, sitting on the hallway floor with my face in a towel worrying whether the neighbours would hear. Then I went out to see He's Just Not That Into You with a girlfriend. Unfortunately, I learned nothing new because I've read the book backwards and inside out about eleventy bajillion times. Now I have a headache and feel utterly nauseated. I'm waiting for my clean sheets to come out of the dryer so that I can cry myself to sleep in bamboo-cotton papyrus blend. I just have one question. If I can't spot the jerks, how am I supposed to avoid them? Maybe they're all jerks.

What? - Epilogue

This morning, he emailed asking me to never speak to him again. I think I will take his advice. I'm taking a friend to the work party thing on Saturday night. At least I won't have to walk on eggshells and worry about being embarrassed. Hell, my coworkers can even assume I'm a lesbian for that matter. The way she looks. I'm taking my friend in the painted pink dress. It's been a while since I wrote about her but she came through for me before. When B dumped me before Cirque du Soleil. It was her first show and she loved it. She's a great date actually.

I just talked to C le V. Whenever I talk to him, I wonder where the hour went. It just disappears some times. I'm in danger of really getting attached to this guy. He is so sweet and thoughtful and funny. I wish he was here. I'm going to miss him a lot when he goes on vacation in February. Expect to read a lot of mopey lonely blog entries.

Anyway, I have to go to bed before the Neo Citran induced coma takes me down. I had a really great day today. Two highlights: I was asked to manage a big project at work and it will take me to the client's office four to five days a week. That changes my moving plans but I'm thrilled to have the opportunity. Big meeting on Wednesday so hopefully I don't have a raging fever.

Also, I texted my favourite dj on Flow 93.5 this evening on the drive home from work. "Who's my daddy? Scratch is my daddy!" and they aired it! I even got a text back from DVo Brown: "hilarious!". Totally made my day complete.

What? - Grand Finale

(Disclaimer: NSFW along with most things on this blog!)

I'm very close. Very close. Teetering on the edge even. I have resolved to be honest on my blog because I am too ashamed of him and of myself to be honest with my girlfriends. And I don't often feel that way.

On Saturday night, I had bubble tea with the girls and their husbands. Usually when I go for bubble tea I order a large and then say "ugh, too many bubbles! Why do I always do this to myself? Moan." But this weekend, I ordered a small. It took a supreme effort of self-discipline but I did it and didn't regret the small at all. Yay me. I think I might be learning something. Slowly.

Today, I spent the day with Grey. We didn't talk. We didn't really do much. We went for dim sum and I got upset because, when I complained about working from home on weekends, he said I only work one day a week in a voice full of contempt, scorn and disdain. I got angry. I actually got teary eyed when we were waiting for our table and had to escape to the ladies room for a minute. I spoke up enough that he finally claimed to see the error of his ways and apologized. Then, of course, we didn't talk at dim sum. We waited almost an hour to get my car washed and, instead of trying to talk to me then, he kept trying to shove his hand up my skirt. Repeatedly. He even unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis at one point. Yeah, that's right. I almost kicked him out of the car.

Then we went to the drugstore to get him something to help him sleep. By the time we were at his place, his buddy had phoned and was right behind us. The three of us ended up sitting on the couch watching the Superbowl and eating pizza. Grey trash talked me a lot tonight. Some of it was truly appalling. Maybe it was just part of guy's Superbowl night but I have trouble believing that his buddy would say the same stuff to the girl he is currently seeing. We all laughed it off as part of the macho funny guy act but I am hurt and unimpressed. I sent Grey an email when I got home because I was too embarrassed/scared/awkward/worried about making his friend feel awkward to say something at the time. And I knew that if I didn't send him an email tonight, it would go into the vault of things he wouldn't remember but I can't let go.

Re AshleyMadison.com: Grey was saying he should go on that site but he's not married. I told him that if he was going to sign up for a website that facilitates affairs, he might as well lie about being in a relationship. I mean, that's hardly a stretch, right? He said, "yeah good point. I should say my girlfriend is a tall, hot, 5'10" blonde..." Suffice it to say I am none of those things. I looked askance at him and he said that his brain is often way behind his mouth and some of the stuff that comes out makes no sense. Oh, it makes plenty of sense.

His buddy was considering spending $500 on a winter coat for the new girlfriend: Grey said that he would never spend that much on me. His buddy just shook his head. I said "yeah, but we're not dating".

He also said the following two things. I think the context is irrelevant:

1. I won't fuck you hard if you don't finish your dinner.
2. I should bitchslap you with my cock.

My response to the first was to push away my dinner plate. My response to the second was "you could try but it won't reach". I couldn't believe he said that to me. In front of his buddy.

Eventually his buddy left. I thought we would talk. Stupid me. He just wanted to have sex.

When I left, he hugged me and asked if we could do it again some time after he got a good night's sleep. I said "whatever, I won't wait forever". But actually, I think I might be done with him. I think that it has finally started to sink in that I'm better off without him. I can be remarkably intelligent about everything else in my life. In fact, in general I pride myself on my rapid brain speed. But this... why has this taken so long? Did I require some sort of external boost to my self-esteem to figure this out?

I couldn't wait to get home to talk to C le V tonight. He could tell something was off but I told him that I didn't want to talk about it because it was unimportant, irrelevant and would be bad karma for us. It would be so great if we somehow end up together. I miss him. I hope that I'm good enough for him.

Happy New Year!

Happy noo dear everyone! I am in Calcutta and on an unsecured wireless network but I don't really have any time to myself to write. Anyway, this year seems to have started off somewhat mediocrely. I'll have to think about new years resolutions a bit over the next little while. A couple that come to mind right away: to eat more Mayo Clinic Top 10 Foods and to give people my undivided attention.

Relief

I woke up this morning feeling relieved. I didn't realize how much I was actually dreading the trip to Montreal next weekend. Now I'm free of that obligation. And I'm free to actually enjoy myself this weekend with The Crush without feeling guilty about The Other Guy. And I was feeling guilty about him. I almost felt as though I was cheating on him. I'm still a little sad because he is the first man to make me laugh since I met my former Valentine in 2005. He knew what to say and I was comfortable talking to him. But maybe it was too much too soon and it wouldn't have been sustainable in the long-term. I'm still looking forward to my weekend. And next weekend I might be having spaghetti with Grey. So that's potentially something to look forward to as well. He sent me an email reminding me about our discussion last Thursday on how this thing was doomed from the very beginning because of distance. I'm surprised he even remembered that conversation. Anyway, off to work.

Dumped

The Other Guy dumped me. Just like that. Well, not *just* like that. We spent an hour on the phone talking about real estate, people and our plans for the weekend. Then he said he couldn't do this. Whatever "this" is. My heart is heavy. I'm sad and shocked. And confused. I feel like a fool.

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.

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.