One hundred little things...

I wish I could take credit for this idea: alas, it's been done many-a-times before on blogs like mine, but hey; it's a great one so let's keep it going!


1) I am obsessed with the colour red. I wear it every day – seriously every day. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean I’m not wearing it.
2) I’m 5’2 – but so constantly in heels that I scare/surprise people with my ‘party trick’.
3) My ‘party trick’ involves me taking off one shoe and proclaiming “this is me with shoes” – drops down 2-3 inches – “and this is me without shoes”. It gets laughs every time.
4) The main reason I flirt is because at the time I’m bored.
5) I’ve grown up in several different countries on several different continents; and a few islands too.
6) Why? Well because I am a diplobrat.
7) I blame coffee for stunting my growth – however I am average height for someone with my background.
8) My mom’s from the South Pacific region of Asia. My dad is white.
9) I am literally a slave to my music.
10) I am addicted to Dog the Bounty Hunter.

11) I can’t cook – but I can sure as hell bake.
12) I have 2 replica WW1 and WW2 posters above my bed.
13) I am addicted to internet shopping.
14) 2 summers ago my dryer took a day to dry clothing, all the while making the loudest noise you could possibly imagine coming from an appliance. So I waited until the last possible minute to turn it on in the morning and managed to run out of my apartment.
15) I really don’t know how I’ve managed to survive myself.
16) If I am really lazy – I don’t do laundry. I just buy new clothes.
17) I still do that with panties.
18) Speaking of which, I keep them in a hat box instead of a drawer.
19) I’m really good at pretending to listen to people when I’m actually going over what I have to do/haven’t done that day.
20) I have a red load for my laundry.

21) I exercise constantly – but eat poorly.
22) I don’t have a favourite food – but I eat a lot of cereal.
23) I make a mean bowl of cereal.
24) I think Booster Juice is the greatest invention of our time.
25) My jeans hang in my closet from lightest to darkest – all other pants I really don’t care.
26) I have a growing obsession with Aveda hair and body products.
27) I am a serious hockey fan. It’s just a bonus that the players are so damn sexy.
28) I’m pretty sure I have ADHD.
29) I have a learning disability.
30) I seriously considered sewing my mitts to my jacket for the winter time, but then I’d be one of those kids.

31) Every so often I feel as if I am a 50 year old trapped in a 22 year olds body.
32) I have more older friends than friends my age.
33) I hate living with people.
34) Instead of removing nail polish with liquid remover, I just let it chip off.
35) I used to wish that I could change my full name – now I love it and most of my nicknames.
36) I have a fetish for shampoo and conditioner pairs.
37) I believe that shoes are God’s gift to women.
38) I believe that God is a woman – because there is also God that is a man.
39) I have an intense hatred for stupidity – not ignorance, because ignorant people truly don’t know any better. Stupid people do.
40) I hated dating – but loved the single life.

41) I carry with me at least 2 lip-chap sticks with me at all times; if I don’t have one I buy one.
42) I was the ugly kid.
43) I still don’t think I’m all that attractive: People seem to think otherwise and mistake my opinion for a sorry-attempt at being humble.
44) My father is the most interesting man I’ve ever met; but I’d still like to meet Christian Bale.
45) Batman is my favourite superhero.
46) I only eat pancakes either at home or at my greasy spoon diner next to the highway.
47) I hate taking the bus; I prefer the train.
48) I have an irrational and petrifying fear of flying.
49) I belong to a sorority. I don’t tell a lot of people because they assume that I’m one of those girls, like in the movies. Unfortunately those movies do a pretty accurate description of some of the girls I’ve met.
50) The area that I study in university is the love of my life.

51) Seriously I don’t think I’m all that attractive. I’m not being facetious.
52) I only go shopping for clothing by myself. I feel bad purchasing clothing in front of other people.
53) Shoe shopping – however – is a totally different story.
54) I have kindergarten teacher handwriting.
55) I learned to write at the same time I was learning how to use chopsticks. I amalgamated the two.
56) I love mint chocolate chip ice cream.
57) I have the craziest girlfriends in the world. And I wouldn’t trade them for the world.
58) The best part about me is my hair. It’s thick and it grows like a weed.
59) My prized possessions include my pair of Manolo Blahniks, my Coach purse and my Fendi sunglasses.
60) I only paid for the Manolo Blahniks.

61) I crack my knuckles on an hourly basis.
62) I have glasses but I never wear them.
63) My nails only seem to grow when I am not constantly watching and willing them to grow.
64) Michael Moore’s “Dude; Where’s My Country” inspired me to go into my field.
65) I guess I should tell you what that field is. I often leave out important pieces of information.
66) I once sprained my wrist opening a jar of applesauce. I wish I were kidding.
67) I’ve never broken a bone in my body.
68) I just knocked on wood. I also throw salt over my left shoulder if I ever spill some.
69) I really hate this number.
70) I’m studying nursing.

71) I have a wicked long-term memory, but damned if I can remember what you told me a minute ago.
72) I sing really loudly in the shower.
73) I love Post-It notes.
74) I hate going to movies with people.
75) I’ve been told that I think I am in a 24 hour shampoo commercial. Sometimes I think they’re right.
76) If I didn’t have to worry about paying off my debts and supporting myself and making a living, I would dance for the rest of my life.
77) I planning on getting, but at the same time am terrified of, laser eye surgery.
78) I can’t drive.
79) No seriously I don’t have my license.
80) I’m 22.

81) As soon as the flavor is gone I spit the gum out.
82) I eat the red ones – of anything - last.
83) I have 2 yoga mats and my yoga bags name is Polka.
84) I name most of my possessions.
85) Whenever I am away from home, I bring my teddy bear to sleep with.
86) That particular teddy bear has no name, despite being 10 years old. How very Holly Golightly of me.
87) My curiosity will be the death of me.
88) I have a terrific audio memory.
89) I can do 8 ‘man’ pushups and way more ‘girlie’ pushups.
90) The fact that ‘girlie’ push ups are referring to the ones done on your knees insults me.

91) I am very witty.
92) I take insults as good as I give them.
93) I trip over flats more often than heels.
94) I can’t eat spaghetti and meatballs without most of the sauce landing on my (always white) clothing.
95) I wear a moonstone necklace almost every day. I feel naked without it.
96) When I am nervous I bite my pinkie finger or my lower lip. I also do this while thinking.
97) I have a very expressive face.
98) I can’t lie. I am probably the worst liar ever.
99) This was really hard to do for me. I keep thinking I forgot something.
100) I probably did. C’est la vie.

Bells & Blues

... do I look like a maid?

I was talking to my boss yesterday about, oddly enough, weddings. Perhaps because he and I are just short of creating a pool as to when the receptionist will get a proposal, or when our other co-worker will have a baby and finally bag her long-long-long term boyfriend. Anyway I had mentioned Angelica's upcoming nuptuials to Joe in August, of which yours truly is one of her bridesbabes. He brought up that old, awful and oh-so-annoying 'insult' of "Always a bridesmaid, never a bride!" to which I responded "Do I look like a maid?"

Again, I guess I've been slacking on the memo department, but since when did getting a boyfriend automatically bring up the awkward wedding questions, the proposal dreams and the choice of flowers at the ceremony? And in a place of business, where the majority of employees and maybe 1-2 management are in fact female? Am I missing something - perhaps an emotion that most girlfriends are supposed to have when it comes to weddings and white picket fences?

Another blogger wrote about this not too long ago - how she, at 28, still had no idea of what her perfect wedding would look like. And for that post I wish to thank her. Vegas and I were talking and he brought up the 'fact' that "All girls have their perfect wedding planned out from the beginning." Um... the beginning of what? A relationship? Isn't that a little freaky? I mean - I got freaked out like nobody's business when Philippe got to talking about how I'd raise his children and how we'd be married in a Catholic church in French. It just didn't make sense to me then and now the concept of planning out such an elaborate event when you never know what tomorrow will bring in a relationship. Seriously; as in the case of Philippe, one morning he could be making you pancakes and strawberries and walking you to work, and the next day he could be chasing you down the main street of your city calling you a lying cheating waste of space. Why spend all that day-dreaming time on one day when you could spend it dreaming of your future - career wise, friends wise, travel wise, everything wise?

I must admit, however, that I have thought a little about a wedding. Why, Carrie - you ask? Well a few years ago yours truly was engaged... to Vegas. Did I mention that? Yeah... well anyway. The extent of my planning? My dress is Vera Wang. My shoes are Manolo Blahnik, or maybe Christian Loubouitin. Uh... um. My ring is Tiffany's. And that's it. Everything else was shades of grey or on my to-do-list after finishing my degree, getting a good job to pay for more school, getting my MA, PhD or even MD. Back in my 18-year-old mind that was what was most important to me - and it still is today. In fact, now in my 22-year-old mind other things have entered the realm of 'most important to me' that were not so clear as a know-nothing-know-it-all teenager.

A good point that was brought up in a comment is that most couples, men or women, whatever, think too much of the ceremony and not the actual marriage. What comes after the celebration - when the guests all leave, the food all gone, the presents all open - the reality of married life kicks in. Back in the end of my relationship with Philippe entering my single summer, my cynical self once though that the smallest pair of handcuffs in the world were wedding rings. And in a sense this is still true.

Vegas is a home-body. He dreams of white picket fences, children (with HIS last name), roots and neighbours, routine and stability. I, on the other hand, am a nomad. A gypsy in the hot-Esmerelda kind of way. I dream of travel, of far away places, of giving back to the world everything it's given to me and more. Of joining MSF, of lecturing on a little known but so important topic to future generations of those following in my footsteps. Of having former teachers who didn't believe in me call me DR., and have former teachers who did believe in me celebrate my success as their own. And maybe, after all that, or at the end stages of that, do I begin to accept visions of children and a hint of stability.

To me, a wedding represents both a celebration of a beginning and of an end. Sure I wrote how the Bachlorette Party is a celebration of the end of the single-fling life, but what about a wedding? It is a celebration of the beginning of married life - but what if it's not what you want? It sometimes seems, maybe only to me and others who've experienced twisted forms of relationships, that a wedding means you're exchanging your freedom for a party and a pretty dress. And to me, my freedom is worth far more than that.

The receptionist at my office seems really happy that she will be getting a proposal. She is more than willing to move to be with her soon-to-be fiance and start a life anew. And to her I say - right on sister. My co-worker wears her engagement ring with pride and brings her man with her whenever she can, and on her spare time plans her wedding with the same force and passion that she does her work. And to her I say - right on sister. Angelica is running a tight ship with dresses, fittings, parties, hair, plans, placement and of course food. And to her I say - right on sister. I will gladly attend, send gifts and stand up at the alter of my girlfriends weddings because it is her choice and I will celebrate it as if it were my own. But it's not my choice. At least, not yet.

I've got too much to do.

Women Who've Shaped Me

I know I’m a little late in joining the celebration, but to all the women who have shaped me that I cannot write about today – Thank you.

There are two particular women I have decided to write about made the most significant impact on my future career and school-success. The first one, let’s call her Ms. Super. Ms. Super was my 9th grade science teacher. New to the school, Ms. S’s passion for the subject was both overwhelming and consuming – not an easy task for one teaching a bunch of rowdy 13 year olds. Until attending her class each day in the winter semester, yours truly had no solid interest or understanding of science, no passion to understand the beauty of its mysteries, the complexities of its simplest beings. Ms. S managed to draw me out from behind my science-trepidation, my disability to understand and ‘get’ the concepts and introduced me – started, even, my love affair with biology.

In my last year at high school I found myself in a computer lab full of new grade 9 students with Ms. Super as their instructor. After the class was over (as it was a particularly difficult one for her) I commented on how lucky those students were, as I was lucky 4 years ago, to have her as a teacher. Her unwavering passion for science, teaching and mentoring young students will no doubt be her legacy – and her greatest gift to the future. I have no doubt in my mind that Ms. Super has inspired countless others to pursue what interests them the most, introduced others to something they never thought they would like or, like in my case, excel in despite obvious difficulties.

The second woman I have decided to write about is my Sensei. Well, was my Sensei. At 5’2 (the same height as me) this incredibly strong, kind and intelligent woman has her own business, 2 children, a loving husband, and is a black belt 3 times over. As a skinny, small, naïve 8th grader, this woman through her guidance, instruction, passion and confidence in me, taught me discipline, courage, and guided me all the way to my blue (5/8) belt. In the year and a half I was under her tutelage, I gained tremendous self-respect, self-confidence, discipline and honour – qualities that I have seen lacking in many of the people I have had the displeasure of knowing.

The Dojo I attended was my happy place for 2 years – and when I had to leave it was the saddest day of my pre-teen years. In that small studio in the South-West end of this city I trained my body and my mind to overcome physical, mental and emotional adversity, all the while kicking ass with graceful and powerful movements. Not bad for a 5’2, 100 pound ‘little girl’. The movements and grace have stuck with me and is evident in every kickboxing aerobics class I attend – the discipline has stuck with me as well, which is the greatest lesson my Sensei ever taught me. In the earning of each belt I saw the benefits of hard work and dedication, and although I never reached the top level – in her eyes and maybe, eventually in mine, I am a success. And for that thought I am forever grateful.

The Politics of Relationships

Does absence makes the heart grow fonder… or does it make the heart go wander?
This weekend is my formal – a graduation of some sort into the ‘adult’ phase of my life. I’ve known about this for 2 months know, and in turn so has Vegas. He planned on coming to the city on Thursday night, seeing me, and then meeting again on Saturday for the evening out. Great, I thought to myself, because Thursday day I work and then head to the gym until the late evening, and Friday I have class all day and work all night. So while this weekend I would love to see him as much as possible, 3 out of 4 days is pretty good and significantly enough for me.

Wednesday night we chat online and Vegas tells me that he is sick. How come, I ask, because on the weekend I went out he sounded fine, energetic, a little buzzed but overall well-enough to withstand his activities. Well, it’s because of the weekend straight of partying that he’s sick because the late nights have continued on as he scrambled to get his work done for looming deadlines and group meetings that start early and run late. So as a result, plus family obligations, our together time has fallen from 3 days to 1.

Fine, I said, just see me on Saturday, because I did not want him to get sick before then and be unable to accompany me. We proceeded to get into a disagreement (not argument) about the time issue, with me saying no to anything before Saturday in concern for his health and my previous obligations, and him say yes to see me on Thursday because he missed me. He was wondering why I was mad at him (I was not mad) for being sick, that he didn’t plan on it, and that he couldn’t control it. I was upset because I beg to differ.

I am of the opinion that every action has a reaction – and that every action has a consequence, and if you are not prepared to lose then you should not take the risk. Vegas partied a lot the first time around and it was a major issue in the ending of the relationship because it became priority #1 followed closely by school work and new friends, with me somewhere at the bottom for whenever it was convenient. When we got back together he had said that he was a changed man; and little actions like this tell me otherwise. He still readily and willingly gives into his friends to join in the party, which as a senior I can understand, but not attend the pity-party when the price is being paid in the form of sickness, insomnia, late assignments and all nighters.

Without trying to sound like a nag, some people, like Vegas and at one time myself, just don’t understand that they simply can not do everything, and even when they try 9 times out of 10 they’ll just end up doing nothing. During our conversation I was trying so hard not to say anything that could resemble a lecture from his mother, since he already has one. After Philippe I’ve obtained a very laissez-faire mentality when it comes to significant others; I believe that Vegas and any other man I decide to date is a grown man and can do and will do as he pleases; therefore he can also deal with the consequences of his actions. I too am a grown woman and can react as I please, which will be not speaking to him until the following Saturday when I make the trip to attend his formal, for which no doubt he will be well rested and anxious to attend.

I made a promise to myself and my girlfriends to act differently this time around, to not put up with neglect, to not beg for attention and come off as the demanding and high-maintenance girlfriend. If Vegas is sick or unable to completely attend my formal, and we all know how much fun an event can be when you significant other clearly makes it known that they do not wish to be there, then I have decided on a costume change and that I will go by myself. Last year I had a smashing good time by myself, in fact it was the best formal I ever attended – but I will still make the trip and spend the money to attend Vegas’ formal the following Saturday because that’s what Audrey Hepburn would freakin’ do.

I’ve found in my past relationships that there are guys out there who like to test the waters, to see how far the can push the limits, to see what the limits are. I mean, if they want to do something you can’t stop them, but at the same time they cannot be surprised when we react the way we do. I understand that being 2 hours away makes things difficult – and that our lives shouldn’t be spent pining for the other when there is the joie de vive out there waiting to be experienced. BUT at the same time, long distance requires a tad more planning and effort than having someone close by. Balance is the key to long-distance and in-town relationship success and it simply can’t all be on one side. I say this because I stay in, I work 2 jobs and I get my school work done so that when I do have a chance to see Vegas I am well, well rested, work free and money sufficient. If it won’t go both ways with Vegas or with anyone else then clearly I am wasting my time.

I get that men will try and test the limit. I get that they want to have fun; I mean, don’t we all? I get that they want to experience life, and sometimes it’s something they have to do with their buddies. But if it get’s out of hand and he doesn’t realize it, problems can and will arise. However, and there is always a however, until Vegas realizes on his own things won’t change.

So why is it when I bring this issue up, when I try to communicate that maybe he doesn’t have to attend every single party that arises, do I come off like a nagging, self serving bitchy girlfriend when all I want is a healthy rested boyfriend that I booked 2 months in advance for an important event? I guess it takes time for some to realize that when you're in a relationship you're no longer the only one who has to deal with the consequences of your actions.

It seems as if I have forgotten the politics of relationships – the negotiations, the debates, the communication issues, the diplomacy, the his-story/her-story/truth conundrum. The balancing act between the interests of yourself, your friends, your obligations and your significant other. The problem with relationship politics, as with politics in general, is that one side always seems to get screwed over in favour of another, one that may or may not deserve the extra attention, one that may or may not be the popular or correct choice. And just like in real politics, it is only a matter of time until the side that’s being screwed either becomes invisible, or leaves the table altogether.

Perhaps I am being rash, being too harsh with Vegas – but a promise to my girlfriends is a promise I do everything in my power to keep, especially when it’s a promise made with my best intentions and my well being at heart. And those kinds of promises insisted upon by your girlfriends is a promise one should never ever break.

The Fifth Wheel

Last weekend I was dragged out by Angelica, her fiance Joe, Christie and her soon to be ex boyfriend, let's call him Paul... 2 couples in love and a little drunk, all set for a cold but shenanigan filled night on the town. Oh, and me. So you can imagine just how excited I was as the no longer single but still fabulous third, well make that fifth wheel in a mele of drunk, loud, affectionate couples holding hands while I held on to my new Coach purse, walking down the street either in front of or behind the 2 happy couples.

No worries, I thought to myself, as I tried in vain to convince myself that as soon as we got to the bar things would magically get better, the awkwardness would subside to reveal glimpss of the good old times Angelica, Christie and I had before we went our separate ways. I mean, that's what the weekend was about, right? Angelica had made the trip and now that she was here she was planning on making good all the promises we made each other on an epic night out, Summer of Fun style. Not to say that she didn't; oh no. I saw her every day and enjoyed every minute I spent with her but man oh man, when we got to the bar, holy hell was it ever awkward for yours truly.

Apparently I didn't get the memo, but I guess the once dominant singles to couples ratio normally found at the bar has switched, and with the exception of other socially akward people, the majority of the crowd out last night was plus one. And boy did I ever feel like a zero. I mean, seriously: If I was a single girl again in this situation I think I would have lost my mind. Since when did coupled people collectively decide to take over the single scene, leaving the stragglers to either pair up out of desperation or boredom, or as I did for the majority of the night, stand around saying nothing and having nothing said to me save for the scraps of conversations the couples managed to throw my way.

Please imagine how much fun I was having.

But here's the thing; I'm no longer single, so even playing my usual game of 'how many numbers can I get in one night' was completely out of the question, which left me with the only option of standing around waiting until the couples got tired and hungry and wanted to leave. (Did I mention that everyone was crashing at my apartment and I had the only key? Yeah. Otherwise I would have gone home, slipped away unnoticed until the next morning at our greasy spoon breakfast place).

I had written before about my intense dislike of needing a boyfriend in order to hang out with my girlfriends during my single summer, but now that I've found myself in a relationship I thought I had fulfilled the requirements to avoid any and all couple-y awkward social events. I guess with Vegas not here we've put ourselves in this grey area of having a significant other without having a significant other - especially when we need or want them around. I ended up text-messaging with him until close to 3:00 in the morning, my pathetic attempt to experience the sensation of everything and anything falling away to the sound (or in my case, image) of your lovers voice.

On the one hand I completely understand where Angelica and Joe are coming from. They too are long-distant lovers who hardly get to see each other, let alone do the usual couple stuff together. And Christie and Paul? Well, let's just say their relationship is special. And yeah, when couples go out together it really is only a matter of time until they lose interest in any other person than the one they are going home with. And that's lovely...if you're a part of a couple.

But on the other hand, knowing that this will inevitably, eventually, and always happen - why invite or drag or nest at a single or separated friend out when clearly she's that one thing that's not like the others; one of these things that's not quite the same. Even in my familiar territory of single and fabulous I felt not quite the same - to be perfectly honest, I felt useless, like a vintage accessory that's just gone out of style. And considering that I just got a boyfriend, that's pretty lame. I can't help but wonder in the cold and sober morning if this is my new coupled future - reveling in the grey area of taken but single, flying solo while surrounded by pairs. Because seriously, that future sucks.

Declaration of Independence

Are all relationships, like people, created equal?

Yes my friends, it’s true. Your beloved Carrie has found herself in a relationship –her first in almost a year and a half. Suffice to say that I am a bit rusty in this area… I’m still getting used to and don’t think will ever get used to the concept of being someone’s girlfriend without the stigma that it’s had for me and many of my girlfriends over the past few years. Don’t get me wrong here; I’m not miserable in the fact that I have a boyfriend- it’s nice. It’s just that after being single and fabulous for so long, I can’t help but wonder how I and others adjust to the relationship world just as we were enjoying the single life?

I know a lot of people spend the majority of their single life searching for the one who will ‘rescue’ them from their supposed lonely and sad existence. I, on the other hand, never believed that. I believed in celebrating the single life for every minute of it – for we are lucky to have such freedom and endless possibilities in front of us. Not to mention the awful but so funny dates I went on, and might I add, after experiencing the good, the bad, and the as if of the dating game, it makes me appreciate more the good men who are out there. Especially when you have someone to call after a bad day, or someone to bring to a formal event, or someone to do nothing with is lovely, calming and stabilizing.

Except, of course, when you’re a twenty-something. Perhaps it’s just me and my weird understanding of relationships but sometimes, and irrationally I might add, serious long-term relationships begin to look like lace-covered forms of entrapment. Sometimes it signals the end of so much – many ideas that I know will never happen but the possibilities were often enough to keep me going. Maybe because I’ve been in relationships like that and maybe because I’ve seen my girlfriends fall into relationships like the ones I am describing - most recently one particular girlfriend, let’s call her Nicole. Don’t get me wrong here, she seems happy most of the time and when she’s happy I am happy – but we hardly ever get to see each other because she’s with him and even when we do get to see her, her man is never far away.

I was thinking about this on my way home from the gym – My inner city escape from school, work and people in general – how much I enjoy and value my ‘me’ time. I never understood how some of my friends who are in relationships can go from work to their significant other without a break in between to do the things that they need to do – alone. I mean, I enjoy the pleasure of Vegas’ company, but I also enjoy the pleasure of my own. As I had mentioned before I never had nor will I ever need another person to validate my existence, regardless as to whether or not I was in a relationship or not. I ended up asking myself if I could retain my sense of independence while being in a relatively committed relationship.


I decided to give Vegas another chance partly because I never stopped caring for him and partly because he was my most sane relationship. When he lived in the city our relationship was consuming… and yes, it got boring. Monogamy became monotony. We were too young for such a serious relationship that with age came every day responsibilities such as work, bills, kids and well-developed lives that prevent relationship-overkill. But this time around, with him 2 and later on 4 hours away from me with a job, separate friends and ‘adult’ responsibilities, maybe monogamy won’t become monotony. Maybe this is the perfect relationship.

A Matter of Attraction

Getting what you want... just not when you want it.

Among my circle of girlfriends it is generally accepted that the best way to get a boyfriend is to get a boyfriend, or in other words the only way to get sex is to have sex. Now I don’t know about you but as much as I’ve witnessed, experienced and ranted about this odd version of ‘how things work – dating wise’ this concept has never ceased to amaze and frustrate me.


On one hand I understand the logic: One cannot just sit around and wait for everything you want to literally fall into your lap. You meet people you can date by meeting people in general. You find yourself in a relationship by putting yourself out there, not by hiding in the background wondering why nobody is asking you for dinner, coffee or even if you need a hand with your laundry. But at the same time why is it when and ONLY when you find a significant other that you actually like do options all around you open up that were closed or unavailable or invisible when you were single? I mean, what shift in personality, actions, emotions or thoughts triggers such an influx of suitable candidates in a dating game only after you’ve stepped off the field?

I am talking, of course, about Paris. Now before I go into detail I must state that as a lover of science I know that I cannot base any theory of mine, no matter how outlandish or silly, on one case and one case alone. Ever since Vegas and I reunited I have somehow found myself the object of affection of known-platonic friends, new co-workers and randoms on the bus/street/gym. It's really as if the idea of a taken woman is the most intriguing, desirable, obsessive idea to some men – so much that given the opportunity he’d cross the line from platonic friend to homewrecker in an instant if there was the slightest chance that you’d discover you felt the same way. Text messages, phone calls, being extra helpful. Even when they know you have a boyfriend. Seriously - What is it about having a relationship that attracts more potential suitors for, well, a relationship?

Or in Paris’ case, the potential for a hint of truth; or clarity in his case. It all started with a quick hello-how-are-you phone call that after a mentioning of me running off with a man and how it would affect Paris’ plan, the conversation turned into an on slot of emotional confessions from a shade of grey did-I-or-didn’t-I man that I must admit I was not prepared for. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think he was prepared for it either. Paris is typically a smooth-talking man who is cleaver with his words. He gives you enough to make you curious but too little to solidify anything. But this morning he was going on about revelations and a deeper understanding... Oh and my personal favourite, how he’s changed.

In those ways he had changed – The entire conversation felt like he wanted to say something to me, something of obvious importance but for one reason or another the words were not flowing from his mouth in its’ usually symphony of grey, but more of a sharp staccato of black and white. It intrigued me enough to stay on the line without saying much, but at the same time not enough to probe and prod for a deeper understanding.

Why? Well because I am of the belief that people don’t really change – they evolve. Perhaps Paris had a revelation or two, or his radar went off that I was now off the market, that made him realize that ‘hey maybe this girl isn’t so bad’. He said so himself that when we first connected in November of 2005 he wasn’t prepared for the striking similarities and easy comfort that he and I possessed so effortlessly. It shook him and caught him off-guard, as it did me. He also said that he knows he affects me (duh) and that different emotions come up (shit) and neither of us know how to respond (fair). And then he brought up this that he wanted to discuss it at a later time.

The issue is, and this goes with all other platonic men who have decided to enter a race that has already been won, is that their time to discuss anything further with me with the hopes that further discussion will lead to further action has come and gone. Chris’ theory is similar to mine in that when a guy finds out that his attractive girl friend he’s flirted with on and off but never pulled the trigger now has a boyfriend, it is a rude awakening to some men’s (and women’s) innate laziness when it comes to opportunity. I know that a significant number of people do not realize what they have until it’s gone, and as Chris put it so eloquently, it’s like leaving something for later because you know it’ll always be there. But Paris and all others should know that when it comes to people, he or she may not always be where you left them last.

Vegas Calling

So I know I alluded to this post a while back – and I apologize for my tardiness in sharing the story. School and work and life in general have been busy for this City-Socialite. You know how it is! Anyway back to my original point. I’m sure you’re wondering who this Vegas is; I’ve mentioned him a few times over the years but never really got down to the nitty-gritty, which I realize is totally unfair. So here we go.

Vegas and I met in high school. In a school of less than 400 ‘seniors’ (so 9th grade and up) we managed to have only one class together – but that was enough. For the majority of the year he didn’t stand out to me until one day he caught my eye, with what he was wearing no doubt: a white beater that revealed his deliciously toned arms and football physique and immediately I was stricken. The problem was he was so shy that he could barely look at me, let alone say a few words that would lead to a date. Luckily, being a woman, I schemed my way into the good graces of his friends to plant the seed of assurance that yes I liked him and yes I would agree to a coffee date. So coffee we did – and started a romance of three years that until the final goodbye was like a rollercoaster of dizzying highs and terrifying lows.


The re-kindling happened this summer: It started as an innocent phone call on his birthday, I mean, you can’t know and love someone for over 6 years and not call or email on a birthday. I didn’t mean it to be anything more than a ‘hey happy birthday big plans ok bye have fun!’ conversation, especially being in the middle of my man-a-month summer and semi-affair with Paris. I also told Vegas that we’d never be ‘friends’ seeing as how I neither sleep with nor agree to marry my friends, but I am a classy lady so a phone call was in order.

Emails and phone calls followed but I didn’t make a big deal out of it – curiosity is common with ex’s and whatnot - Until he asked me out for dinner. A part of me wanted to say no – He had asked for me back a few times already but I was having too much fun, ridiculous or otherwise, to deal with a former lover during the summer. But when September rolled around I thought ‘hey, free dinner AND I get to pick where!’, so after my yoga class on a bright and breezy Saturday morning, I called Vegas back and agreed to meet at an Italian restaurant in the heart of downtown.

I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t have a good time. We spoke with ease and joked like old times, he looked good but I looked better. Except at the end of the night he confessed his ulterior motive, even though I could tell by the way he was looking at me. Again I said no and immediately lost my appetite for my caramel drenched pastry dessert. Truth of the matter was I loved him still, but I needed someone who lived in the same city as me, not 2 hours away and potentially 4 by the end of this school year. Deflated and defeated, he agreed to drive me home as the bill was settled and the last of my cosmo passed my lips.

On the drive home he was silent; not unusual for a man who just got rejected but was trying to put a brave and gentlemanly face on, but something told me that he had something to say but couldn’t – So I let my instinct decided for me as I told him to pull over somewhere so we could talk. As the night got darker and darker we spoke: not about us, but about everything: Life, school, goals, the future, parents, friends… And then it started to rain. As I started to wonder exactly what time it really was, Vegas reached over and started to tickle me to ease the air of the past heavy topics. I laughed and squirmed to try and get away, but somehow, with the rain pouring down on his silver car, his lips found mine.

A couple of hours later he drove me home. We agreed for him to stop by my apartment the next night before going back home so that we could ‘discuss’ what happened between us. Half of me regretted what I had just done – I mean, I didn’t sleep with him (come ON! In a car? I don’t think so) but - I suppose enough happened to warrant a talk. I immediately called Mackenzie to discuss my options and to form a battle plan to avoid any awkwardness when we’d see each other again.

But the other half of me… well, didn’t regret it. Why should I? It was consensual, it was familiar, and it was hot! But I know that as an adult, or at least of legal age, consequences come with my actions – and this time around my consequence was having to talk about what happened with Vegas. It was Mackenzie came up with the battle plan: don’t sleep with him and don’t get back together! And as I organized my closet out of frustration I decided that it was the best route of action. I mean, what was I thinking?? We weren’t going to get back together, and what was with all this need-for-a-label business? Couldn’t we just call a spade a spade, realize that it had been a long time for the both of us since we felt the others touch, we enjoyed it and now we can move on?

My thoughts echoed this decision as he entered my door and sat on my bed – both of us not knowing what to say or how to act, or even how to feel around each other. So that’s what we did; just sat there.

He left the next morning.

Under normal circumstances I am not one for believing in second chances, let alone an unknown number of second chances that I gave Vegas. However this wasn’t one of ‘those’ situations. My curiosity was overwhelming as this urban relationship myth brought up the universal question of all relationships, be they platonic, intimate or somewhere in between. The question is, of course, can people change?

I am about to find out.