Day 32: Jew gotta be kidding me II

Apparently my mom, dad, aunt and uncle had a long discussion about setting me up on a date with “Cantor Ben.”

For those goyem who don’t know, a cantor is the guy (or sometimes gal…but usually guy) who does most of the singing at synagogue. Cantor Ben’s got a great set of pipes. He can nail the high notes like Whitney could before the crack. But about half-way through the service, when the craving for bagels and lox kicks in, you kind of want him to move it along and stop being such a show-off.

Anyway… Cantor Ben is young-ish and a perennial bachelor (to our knowledge).  Today at Synagogue my mom and aunt were nudging me about him, half-jokingly. My mom obviously knows I’m single now. Last my aunt heard, I was dating a goy, which may as well mean I’m on the market.

My threats to eat a bacon cheeseburger in front of Cantor Ben drew that conversation to an abrupt close. I was not in the mood. Today was the first time in about three years that I’d set foot in a synagogue, and I spent most of the interminable service regretting it. I’m more certain than ever that god doesn’t exist, but that’s a different topic for a different blog.

That said, one of the benefits of not being a garden-variety WASP is that I get not one, but two, new years. Two fresh starts per annum. In fact, it’s the Jewish new year now (L’Shana Tova, to those who observe).

 So let’s make some resolutions, shall we?

1 – Eat more local, organic, sustainable food.

2 –  Cook for my friends. I keep meaning to have dinner parties, but never do.

3 – Keep up the active lifestyle. Lots of gym,  hikes, bikes etc.

4 –  Don’t rush into a relationship just because I’m bored and lonely.

5 –  If I ever do start dating again, don’t stay in an unsatisfying relationship just because I’m afraid of being bored and lonely.

6 –  Try being happy for friends who actually have been successful in the love department instead of being bitter and resentful that they have what I don’t.

7 –  Don’t turn down invitations to go out when I’m just feeling kind of blah. I always get into it once I’m there. It’s getting my butt out the door that’s a challenge.  

8 –  Don’t be so cranky all the time.

9 –  Buy a car, even though it’s intimidating.

10 –  Actively try to move to a new city, but not without finding a stable job first. The only thing worse than being chronically single is being chronically single and LIVING WITH YOUR PARENTS. I’ve been here visiting them for less than two days and — bless their hearts — they’re driving me a wee bit batty.


Day 29: The Pacific Ocean is good for the soul

On the beach in Victoria

… as is the company of friends who make you laugh so hard you can’t breathe.

… as is eating delicious, delicious food well past the point of fullness (cheese, super-sweet cherry tomatoes, brownies, sockeye salmon, “monkey bread,” enchiladas, yam-and-goat-cheese wrap).

It was a wonderful weekend. Well worth the airfare.

My life can be pretty damn fun sometimes, boyfriend or no boyfriend.

I’m back at work for what will probably be a very long day, then it’s back home to Toronto to see family and friends.

We’ll see if I’m in this good a mood a week from now…

A quiet beach on Salt Spring Island

Day 25: Contact

Me to him:

Hey you,
I’m going to be in Victoria this weekend, and then in Toronto right after. If it doesn’t rain (let’s face it, it WILL rain), could I trouble you to water the garden? If you don’t want to, or can’t, I can ask someone else. Also, I want you to have some of the veggies. Some of the leeks look like they’re ready.
Fuck it… This was also a pretext to offer you an olive branch. I miss talking to you. I want to know what’s going on with you and how you’re doing.

Then from his iPhone, he said he’d be happy to water the garden. And that he’s fine. But that he’d thrown his back out at soccer. I wasn’t aware he played soccer.

Then me to him:

Thanks for that! I think it’s a safe bet that it will rain, but it’s good to know you’ll take care of it if it doesn’t.  

Then I say I hope he didn’t hurt his back too much. And that I know how shitty a back injury can be (I have chronic back issues due to my penchant for high heels). I tell him I swear by yoga.

I think both Victoria and Toronto will be just what the doctor ordered. I’m really looking forward to seeing all my far-away friends and getting away for a bit. Do you have anything special planned for the long weekend?

Yeah… He so doesn’t have anything planned for the long weekend. He never wants to go anywhere. Or maybe he just never wanted to go anywhere with me. Anyway… then I tell him about how work’s been going, and how they seem open to transferring me if something comes up in another city. I continue:

Anyway… I’ve been keeping myself busy. I signed up for Spanish classes again, am going to the gym lots, and am trying to go on lots of hikes. I’m even writing again, too! I took my guitar out of hibernation and wrote a couple of songs.
I guess that’s all my way of telling you that although this has been a rough month, I’m making the best of it and life goes on. I’m going to be ok.
Maybe when I get back we can have a beer and reminisce about the good ‘ol days.

So then he says the beer is a deal. And btw, the Facebook status I had the other day was hilarious. (It was about me writing a song with the lyric “you buried the lead just like you buried my heart.)” So he’s been keeping up with me on Facebook apparently.

Then I told him, yes, I’ve been writing lots (didn’t mention this blog). And he wrote “wow! the floodgates have really opened.” I haven’t responded to that yet. Because I’m doing this.

I’m feeling kind of OK. I really did miss talking to him. I don’t think we can be friends friends. Not yet, anyway. I’ve never managed to pull that off with an ex-boyfriend.  But it’s good to know I can drop him a line every now and then without it being weird.

Day 25: Oh Dear Lord Cont’d

I just realized I can’t watch episodes of The Office that take place after Pam and Jim get together.

Also, there’s this bar on the main drag near where I live that has these torches outside that run on propane. When we first started dating, we were walking past there and I observed: “It smells like the stuff that makes the flames go.” I write for a living, and sometimes after work my brain runs out of words.

Anyway, he made fun of me relentlessly for that. Every time we’d walk past this bar (it’s halfway between our houses) he’d nudge me and say “Smell that? It’s the stuff that makes the flames go!”

I was walking past there today and got sad.

I’m putting off sending him an email. I’d like to ask him to water the garden when I’m in Victoria/Toronto next week. Also I’d like an excuse to make contact because it sucks not talking to him even just a little.

Day 25: Oh dear lord…

Somebody please kill me if I begin to send flowers TO MYSELF.

A friend, who is also going through a painful breakup right now, expressed horror at this, but I was reluctant to criticize it as vociferously as she did. I mean, I’m the one pouring out her woes in a self-indulgent breakup blog practically every day.

I know it may be tacky. It is tacky. But this bloggy thing has really helped over the past 25 days. It makes order of my runaway thoughts AND gives me something to do at my computer that isn’t online dating.

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