to hear the angels sing...
Six hours after I had left my apartment, and after a harrowing rush through the airport and the check-in line at the hotel I was there. My prep-time had been significantly reduced, from 3 hours to less than 1, so with half-curled hair, rushed on make up and not-so-sticky sticky-boobs my girl friends and I trekked down to the basement and arrived for the party. I was greeted by familiar 'voices' and old friends and got lost in the conversations that arise when old friends, new friends and alcohol are mixed in an energetic and friendly atmosphere. Slowly but surely the entrance area filled with commotion, so much that I didn't even realize that Paris had arrived, slipped in under my radar and I can only assume was instantly swamped with admirers and colleagues.
I was surrounded by my girlfriends, but from the corner of my eye I saw him across the room... or maybe he saw me. Our eyes met for a second... and the next 15 minutes were spent with a glance here, there and everywhere, and before words were spoken a smile. I required a bit of liquid courage and Paris by himself... not only to speak to him in person, the first time in months, but hopefully to put me in the right state of consciousness to not get sucked back into the two years of never being different between us. I had determined to not let myself fall back into fog that was Paris... Another man in my life who left me asking 'what becomes of us?', hoping that this time, next time, some time... it will be different.
And it wasn't. Different, that is. Paris was, is and ever shall be himself. Calm and popular, effortlessly cool and magnetic. I got maybe 20, no, 30 minutes of sporadic conversation before being stolen away, or have him stolen from me... and I could tell and so could he just by being around each other that we no longer shared the same connection and understanding that came so naturally that we once had.
But oh how I missed him! The looks, the smiles, the piercing eye contact, the warm hugs, that kiss... friend kisses on the hand and the back of my head as he put me in a loving headlock... and just his presence was both nerve wracking and familiar at the same time. I'd see him steal glances of me from the shadows all throughout the evening as my girlfriends and I stole the spotlight. And yet... he never went out of his way to find me; I had to go to him. I mean, to his credit he did go out of his way after I had gotten his attention to be sure we could speak in relative privacy, but otherwise... it's been two years of never being different. And I guess it never will.
We spoke a few times more before he vanished for the night. I was informed, by someone else, that he was hosting a small after-party in this suite but as I arrived in my red dress and silver shoes my knocks on his door were met with silence, and I ended my evening the same way I started it; alone.
And now I am back in Ottawa... and although I know that he and I will speak again, I can't say the same about seeing him again. Paris' lame quasi-attempts to come to my city have thus far been few and far between... in fact, the only time I've seen him this year is when I made the effort to go. I doubt that I will attend another function like this, where he and I will meet in person, and as I turned to walk away I left any desire to return to see him on the threshold of his unanswered door. Again, we never said goodbye.
I think Paris had done all that he was supposed to do in my life; and now that he has, it is time to move on. Our connection was intense as it was brief; similar and uncanny like an uncharted island. However you can only stay on one island for so long before you get restless, needing to spread your proverbial wings and explore. But the most important component for me to move on, really and truly move on from him, is the fact that I finally realize that Paris, and any other man can not start or continue to drag me along pretending to want me when really, he doesn't. Paris' greatest lesson to me, is that I need someone who wants me just as much as I want them. And for that lesson I will forever be grateful to Paris... but nothing more.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Saturday, November 25, 2006
It Came Upon a Midnight Clear...
A glorious song of old...
Tonight I am going out for an evening of dinner, drinks and dancing... Very Old New York, seeing how it's a kind of reunion of sorts with people I haven't seen or spoken to in person for a very long time. There are old friends who have moved away, new friends I've kept in contact with.... and there are friends that are a bit more, shall we say, complicated?
I'm talking about Paris. I haven't seen him since June or really spoken to him since my decision to, well, stop talking to him. And since then we've spoke here and there, but nothing like we used to. Long conversations throughout the day, playful flirting and mis-spoken sentences have dissipated to 'good mornings' and 'have a great weekend'... you know, things you'd say to an acquaintance. I admit I miss the friendship we used to have, but I don't miss the mind-fucks I'd find myself in, unable and unwilling to move away from what was obviously destructive to my head.
To recap: Paris and I have had this quasi-but-not-really relationship for about a year now; we clicked instantaneously but only after he had left the city for another. I thought we clicked one way, he thought another, I put myself out there, he returned an ambiguous answer and actions that followed until recently this year. My summary does no justice but for the sake of my returning readers I must continue.
This evening, at a formal function (to which I am wearing a low cut halter v neck fire engine red Grecian style dress with fabulous silver shoes) with hundreds of people, friends and strangers... I'll see him again. This week he kept asking me if I was excited to go, excited to see people; which I am. I'm excited to finally meet the face behind the message, or the person behind the voice, or even more, the fuckwit behind all those rude comments. But I can't help but wonder what my reaction will be when I see Paris again. 5 months is a long time; in 180 days anything and everything can happen... and pretty much did.
When you make a decision to cut destructive personnel out of your life, whether it be because of embarrassment, bad chemistry or simple annoyance (I refer to people who bring the worst in you out for reasons you can't explain) you don't really plan on a reunion anytime soon. The risk of being pulled back into the fire is omnipresent, especially if there is music and wine where you and your excommunicated meet again. But at the same time I refuse to NOT live my life, especially when the party, drinks, food and lodging is on someone else's credit card.
So what's my plan? Look hot - act cool. Enjoy the evening with familiar friends and make some new ones; eat, drink and be merry... and be sure to return to my room the same way I plan on leaving it; solo.
Tonight I am going out for an evening of dinner, drinks and dancing... Very Old New York, seeing how it's a kind of reunion of sorts with people I haven't seen or spoken to in person for a very long time. There are old friends who have moved away, new friends I've kept in contact with.... and there are friends that are a bit more, shall we say, complicated?
I'm talking about Paris. I haven't seen him since June or really spoken to him since my decision to, well, stop talking to him. And since then we've spoke here and there, but nothing like we used to. Long conversations throughout the day, playful flirting and mis-spoken sentences have dissipated to 'good mornings' and 'have a great weekend'... you know, things you'd say to an acquaintance. I admit I miss the friendship we used to have, but I don't miss the mind-fucks I'd find myself in, unable and unwilling to move away from what was obviously destructive to my head.
To recap: Paris and I have had this quasi-but-not-really relationship for about a year now; we clicked instantaneously but only after he had left the city for another. I thought we clicked one way, he thought another, I put myself out there, he returned an ambiguous answer and actions that followed until recently this year. My summary does no justice but for the sake of my returning readers I must continue.
This evening, at a formal function (to which I am wearing a low cut halter v neck fire engine red Grecian style dress with fabulous silver shoes) with hundreds of people, friends and strangers... I'll see him again. This week he kept asking me if I was excited to go, excited to see people; which I am. I'm excited to finally meet the face behind the message, or the person behind the voice, or even more, the fuckwit behind all those rude comments. But I can't help but wonder what my reaction will be when I see Paris again. 5 months is a long time; in 180 days anything and everything can happen... and pretty much did.
When you make a decision to cut destructive personnel out of your life, whether it be because of embarrassment, bad chemistry or simple annoyance (I refer to people who bring the worst in you out for reasons you can't explain) you don't really plan on a reunion anytime soon. The risk of being pulled back into the fire is omnipresent, especially if there is music and wine where you and your excommunicated meet again. But at the same time I refuse to NOT live my life, especially when the party, drinks, food and lodging is on someone else's credit card.
So what's my plan? Look hot - act cool. Enjoy the evening with familiar friends and make some new ones; eat, drink and be merry... and be sure to return to my room the same way I plan on leaving it; solo.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
The Feral Factor
I have decided, among other things, that the outside world and its population of twenty-something men think me and most of my girl friends as some sort of Amizonian-type women. Seriously: most of the guys I've dated thus far have treated, or revered me I should say, as they would a wild animal, and although yes I am "wild" in the sense that I am unpredictable, spontaneous and can change my mind in the blink of my DiorShow covered eye-lashes... I wouldn't go as far as classifying me or better yet responding to me like a tiger in a cage.
Here me out here: it is an accepted concept that men aren't too sure how to act around women... anybody watch 'Everybody Loves Raymond' or 'The King of Queens' or any other crappy sitcom of that sort? Don't get me wrong here, it's the same with women... sometimes I am unsure about how to act around men and quite often manage to come off as either Carrie the Ice Queen or Carrie the Moron. So, as a twenty-something female, and more importantly a twenty-something female in a science field, I find myself categorizing the behaviour that I have experienced with the men I have dated... in the sense that it was either completely clueless or completely bogus. He either had no idea how to behave or act around me, or he had a twisted idea of how to treat me.
Granted nobody comes with an instruction booklet, but it has come to my attention that the twenty something men I've managed to find myself in a relationship with either have no idea or a freak show idea as to how to treat a Manolo-lite such as myself. So instead of observing how good men treat their women (and ladies you too... observing good women treating their men) he acts in 2 different ways: he is either too shy or too nervous to make a move on a "wild" and undomestic goddess, or he's too confident and thinks he knows exactly how to treat a "wild" and undomestic goddess.
Both of these traits make up what I like to call the Feral Factor.
A new breed of woman creates a new breed of man, and vise versa... which in turn creates a new set of behaviours. These behaviours can be seen in both men and women, and I've seen them in action. So far I have experienced 2 Feral Factors and both have successfully prevented or ended a relationship... factors I wish to share with you today.
Feral Factor 1 = The Avoidance tactic. From far away he learns and observes, keeping his distance physically, mentally and emotionally, all the while getting close enough and far enough to want more. In other words, these men successfully become intimate with women either physically, mentally or emotionally.. or all 3 if he is really good, without actually becoming intimate; he observes but never really enters your world. He lures you in with charm and ease... but never cares to remove the bars that prevents you from truly becoming one.
Feral Factor 2 = The trap and tame. Not only does this guy let you into his world, also luring you with charm and ease, but he slowly and deliberately begins to take over yours and eventually makes it his own. Domestication soon follows, along with a sense of learned helplessness, where what's yours is his and what used to be yours isn't really necessary in this new world he created with reminants of you in it.
Obviously Feral Factor 2 relates to my exs who couldn't take NO for an answer... at least not from me. Thats when you rely on the service of your local police force, as they are there to serve and protect. Remember gentlemen and ladies, stalking is illegal. Any man or any woman who believes that Feral Factor 2 is a correct or good way to treat a significant other is wrong: a relationship is not a commit or be committed situation. Each person is "wild" in the sense that they are free; free to chose, free to stay and most importantly free to leave.
No, it is not Feral Factor 2 that really bothers me to the core... it is Feral Factor 1. The intimaybe... When I wrote this I was still conversing with Paris; and that day he threw me off completely with his observations. He had managed to learn and observe my behaviour and even called me on some actions I subconsciously do... and I was blown away. I remember mention it to him, how I was shocked and awed of his indepth knowledge of me, almost intimate... yet we had never exchanged anything above a gaze or a hug. His response? "What... that someone listens to you and pays attention to you?" Apparently I am a person he likes and sticks in his mind... to him my smile "will light up the sky" and that objects "pale in comparison" to me... but I'm still not enough for him to cross the fence and join me in my world, or let me loose into his.
It is because of these factors, among other things, that each relationship ended or each relationship failed to begin. The underlying uncertainty of oneself and of others drove each person to act and react the way they did; and although I am not excusing their behaviour and any other persons similar behaviour... now I can sort of understand why this happens so that next time, maybe it won't happen again. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.
Here me out here: it is an accepted concept that men aren't too sure how to act around women... anybody watch 'Everybody Loves Raymond' or 'The King of Queens' or any other crappy sitcom of that sort? Don't get me wrong here, it's the same with women... sometimes I am unsure about how to act around men and quite often manage to come off as either Carrie the Ice Queen or Carrie the Moron. So, as a twenty-something female, and more importantly a twenty-something female in a science field, I find myself categorizing the behaviour that I have experienced with the men I have dated... in the sense that it was either completely clueless or completely bogus. He either had no idea how to behave or act around me, or he had a twisted idea of how to treat me.
Granted nobody comes with an instruction booklet, but it has come to my attention that the twenty something men I've managed to find myself in a relationship with either have no idea or a freak show idea as to how to treat a Manolo-lite such as myself. So instead of observing how good men treat their women (and ladies you too... observing good women treating their men) he acts in 2 different ways: he is either too shy or too nervous to make a move on a "wild" and undomestic goddess, or he's too confident and thinks he knows exactly how to treat a "wild" and undomestic goddess.
Both of these traits make up what I like to call the Feral Factor.
A new breed of woman creates a new breed of man, and vise versa... which in turn creates a new set of behaviours. These behaviours can be seen in both men and women, and I've seen them in action. So far I have experienced 2 Feral Factors and both have successfully prevented or ended a relationship... factors I wish to share with you today.
Feral Factor 1 = The Avoidance tactic. From far away he learns and observes, keeping his distance physically, mentally and emotionally, all the while getting close enough and far enough to want more. In other words, these men successfully become intimate with women either physically, mentally or emotionally.. or all 3 if he is really good, without actually becoming intimate; he observes but never really enters your world. He lures you in with charm and ease... but never cares to remove the bars that prevents you from truly becoming one.
Feral Factor 2 = The trap and tame. Not only does this guy let you into his world, also luring you with charm and ease, but he slowly and deliberately begins to take over yours and eventually makes it his own. Domestication soon follows, along with a sense of learned helplessness, where what's yours is his and what used to be yours isn't really necessary in this new world he created with reminants of you in it.
Obviously Feral Factor 2 relates to my exs who couldn't take NO for an answer... at least not from me. Thats when you rely on the service of your local police force, as they are there to serve and protect. Remember gentlemen and ladies, stalking is illegal. Any man or any woman who believes that Feral Factor 2 is a correct or good way to treat a significant other is wrong: a relationship is not a commit or be committed situation. Each person is "wild" in the sense that they are free; free to chose, free to stay and most importantly free to leave.
No, it is not Feral Factor 2 that really bothers me to the core... it is Feral Factor 1. The intimaybe... When I wrote this I was still conversing with Paris; and that day he threw me off completely with his observations. He had managed to learn and observe my behaviour and even called me on some actions I subconsciously do... and I was blown away. I remember mention it to him, how I was shocked and awed of his indepth knowledge of me, almost intimate... yet we had never exchanged anything above a gaze or a hug. His response? "What... that someone listens to you and pays attention to you?" Apparently I am a person he likes and sticks in his mind... to him my smile "will light up the sky" and that objects "pale in comparison" to me... but I'm still not enough for him to cross the fence and join me in my world, or let me loose into his.
It is because of these factors, among other things, that each relationship ended or each relationship failed to begin. The underlying uncertainty of oneself and of others drove each person to act and react the way they did; and although I am not excusing their behaviour and any other persons similar behaviour... now I can sort of understand why this happens so that next time, maybe it won't happen again. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.
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