Monthly Archives: August 2010

Day 23: A much better idea than online dating

So eventually I’d like to start dating again. Not any time soon. I have trust issues, you see. And I’m not quite over him. But I’d like to lay the groundwork for when I am ready.

Sometimes my inner monologue gets carried away and I get caught in one of those I-will-never-ever-love-again-and-all-my-best-years-are-behind-me tangents. I realize that at age 27, this is a bit hysterical. Are many of my friends getting married or already married? Yes. Am I probably going to be the last of the bunch to do so? Yes. Statistically, am I likely to get dumped several more times for no good reason? Yes. Am I beyond hope.? Not yet.

My M.O. right now is just to meet more people, expand my social circle. No pressure. No expectations. Just good ol’ fun to keep the Crazies out. It’s hard to make new friends when you’re a grownup, especially when you have a total of two co-workers who are wonderful people, but more than a decade your senior. 

So I decided to join a few groups centred around stuff I like to do:

  1. Hiking for 20-somethings
  2. Live music 
  3. Foodie goodness…cooking, potlucks, dining out etc.
  4. Jewish activities (it doesn’t really count as something I like to do… but maybe it would be good to meet more members of the tribe so I’m not alone on holidays. At least my Bubbie (grandma) would give me  break for once…)

But man are there some weird-ass groups on that Meetup site. There’s one for women whose husbands are gay. There’s another one for “steampunk” people, which explains why I sometimes see these posses around town wearing aviator goggles and top hats. There’s one about angels. Lots of new-age-y “meet your full potential” type stuff. And one for sushi, which I actually might join because sushi is delicious and if you like sushi, then clearly you’re a wonderful person.

So once again….busy busy busy…fabulous fabulous fabulous. I can’t just sit around and be bored and lonely all the time. And I just can’t handle the idea of online dating again. It’s just too fucking depressing.


Day 22: Inspiration strikes again

I wrote another song today! And kind of polished the other one up a bit. Do I seem passive-aggressive and bitter to you? Good. Cause I am.

I knew it
I knew one day you’d bail on me

I told you
I told you so, and look you’re free

I knew it
I always knew I’d meet my fate

You’d cut me loose,
return me to my natural state

Alone, and always drifting out at sea
No anchor tugging down on me

I saw it
I saw it coming miles away

I knew it
I knew exactly what you’d say

I saw it
I saw how you began to drift

That tantrum
Well, that was just a parting gift

A shattered glass against the wall
Now you’ll have a tale to tell them all

I told you
I told you how I’d fall apart

I told you
I told you of my fragile heart

You knew it
You knew you’d break it all

So why the shocked expression
When the glass hit the wall?

I kind of wish you’d proved me wrong
But I’m back to where I belong

Alone and always drifting out at sea
No anchor tugging down on me

Day 20: Sad bed in a new place

I just totally rearranged the furniture in my bedroom. Not that anyone but me will see the inside of it anytime soon. I realized after the fact that my bed now faces my mirrored closet. So to avoid having to look at myself all the time, I’m going to have to keep the closet open, and stare at the mess inside instead.

Also, I’m now closer to the paper-thin wall I share with my neighbours, who are known to have loud, nasty fights followed by loud, nasty makeup sex.

The good news is I found about a dozen wayward earplugs when I moved my bed to its new location.

Maybe I should consider moving apartments. Or cities.

Day 19/20: Sad Bed

It’s all I can do to stop myself from sending him the following text message: I miss you terribly.

I won’t, though. Because Friday is always “boy’s night” and they’ll all be over at his place playing video games and it’ll be awkward… if he even notices he has a text message. Also, I won’t because it’s not a good idea.

I do miss him terribly, though. Tonight was the first night I really acutely missed his physical presence beside me in bed — hence why I got up and started blogging…couldn’t sleep.

We weren’t exactly on fire sexually, which probably a sign it wasn’t meant to be. But the intimacy was definitely there. We were good snugglers. He used bizarre phrases I came to adore… “Do you want to snuggle into me?” by which he meant nestling into his chest. “Can I snuggle into you?” which meant nestling into mine. Then here was “spoonage”… the position in which I was best able to fall asleep. It always ended up hurting his neck, though.

We’d both read, and he’d shuffle down the bed so that I could run my fingers through his feather-soft (but thinning) hair. Sometimes we’d trade places. He’d interrupt my reading to ask dumb questions (he’d always preface it with “Let me ask you this…” to which I’d curtly reply “no.”) I’m sorry I was ever annoyed at that.  

He’s a very animated sleeper. He talks a lot… Mostly he just mutters “it’s ok…it’s ok…it’s ok.” Once he wisely intoned something about having buckets for shoes.  Another time I caught him sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring intently at my fan. He told me he thought the fan was a robot, controlling events outside my window. Sometimes he would forcefully scoop me up into a snuggle in his sleep.  

In the mornings we’d hit the snooze four or five times, until the last possible minute. By then I will have been awake for a while. I’m a morning person and he’s not.

I made him a convert to my favourite breakfast: granola, yogurt (the special kind from the farmer’s market) and fruit. I’d make coffee in the coffee press, because it tastes better than drip. He’d often drive me to work and I’d kiss him goodbye quickly because he was parked in the bus lane. 

Now my bed is empty. And I don’t want anyone else but him in it.

Day 18: Sangria and pretty dresses make everything better

I got home from work and was feeling pretty blue. So I texted around to see if anyone wanted to have a cocktail or four. I ended up meeting a friend (the one who said I was awesome for tossing the glass) and some of her friends, who I liked a lot. At first we were at a very crowded networking event for media/marketing hipster types, but we decided to bail.

We ended up hanging out on the patio of this Mexican restaurant next door, drinking sangria and snacking on nachos. It was sunny and warm and there was laughter and deliciousness. I kind of didn’t feel sad for once.

Plus, I got to wear this great dress I bought at a street festival last summer that I never have any occasion to wear. Sometimes all it takes to lighten  your mood is wearing a pretty summer dress when it’s nice out (for once…this fucking city).  I got complimented by random strangers on the street to and from the restaurant, which does wonders for an anemic ego (if you’re a fashionista like me, anyway).

So here’s my strategy: wear all the fabulous clothes in my closet I was to lazy/fat to wear when I was with him. Never turn town an invitation to hang with new people. Keep myself busy with Spanish classes and mountain hikes and creative endeavours. Go out of town at every opportunity. Exercise lots. DON’T ONLINE DATE.  DON’T CALL HIM.

Busy and fabulous: that’s my new motto.

Day 17: Jew gotta be kidding me!

Oh dear lord. The Crazies have struck again and have goaded me into J-Date territory. I seriously considered it tonight. For those goyem who don’t know, the “J” stands for “Jew.”

The fact that I’m Jewish and he isn’t was probably going to upset certain factions of my family at some point. It’s not like I take the Jew thing seriously — bacon is delicious and Saturdays are for fun — but I think we would have run into some issues if we got married and started procreating.

That doesn’t mean I have any business even considering J-Date. I shouldn’t be considering dating full stop. I’m bored and lonely and should really just get a hypoallergenic cat or take up knitting. Or Kabbalah.

Day 17: Indulgence

On a whim, I booked a flight to Victoria to visit a dear friend over Labour Day weekend.  We used to work together and see each other practically every day. She moved away literally 24 hours before The Dumping. So it’s been kind of a double whammy. Anyway, it’s going to be a blast, and another friend from Edmonton will be there, too. It’ll be a trifecta of girly goodness.

I’m intent on escaping this godforsaken town as much as possible. I go on a previously planned trip back home to Toronto two days later. I couldn’t really wait til then.

I laid down a good-sized chunk of change on the flight without blinking. Flights aren’t cheap over long weekends…especially if you decide to book a week and a half before. That’s the price of mental health, I suppose.

Also in the name of mental health,  I booked a core strength class at the gym (Hard Core, I think it’s called) for a few hundred bucks, and signed up for Spanish classes, which is also a few hundred bucks. I bought a really cute pair of zebra-print flats the other day cause I felt like it. I’ve been doing a lot of thinks because I feel like it.

So the moral of the story is that breakups are expensive. But sometimes you’ve just got to indulge yourself.