The Interview

I’m just a girl in your cell phone, but you’re just a line in a blog.

I can’t remember if I have alluded to my man-a-month summer; a period of six (6) months where in fact, each month I had a new man I was telling my girlfriends about.. Sometimes good stories, but more often than not they were hilariously awful stories. Anyway when I mention this to some of my friends – guys and girls alike – they often mistake my terminology of choice thinking that something juicy happened when really it was quite the opposite. Now under normal circumstances I wouldn’t mind, but in the sense of the dating game a verbal misunderstanding can often turn into a blowup.

Let me explain: During my man-a-month summer I did indeed go out with 6 different men, but I did not ‘date’ them: No, I in fact conducted what I like to call an ‘interview’. To clarify, an ‘interview’ is what I refer to as the first few dates – i.e. 2 strangers meeting to see if a) there is a connection and b) if they can stand each other after the initial politeness wears off. My ‘interview’ process at best last three times; meaning the guy will have had three chances to impress me, and he will have had three chances for me to impress him. Interviews usually involve public places, rescue-me calls and code-words to get out of a terrible situation. This is what happened with The Cop, The Cameraman, The Organic Grocery Store Man and The Hippie. One coffee date was had with each, followed by either a mutual thank you and good-bye or a non-negotiable but still awkward ‘no thanks’ phone call or email.

Anyway, if we both pass the ‘interview’ stage, because remember; a relationship is a mutual selection process, then would I move on to the ‘seeing’ stage – where you’ve decided you like the person enough to continue, well, seeing them. This stage usually involves dinners at one persons place and slightly more personal conversation, not to mention the kiss. This is what happened with The Medic and The Teacher. After a few extra dates, well, in the life of Carrie, after this stage I would either transition into the ‘dating’ area (semi-exclusive and beginning introduction to friends and colleagues) and eventually reach ‘relationship’ status (the talk has been had and agreed upon) – or in both of those previous cases, neither man would ever call me again. Or was it I who forgot to call them? I can’t remember – but either way it ended and probably for the best, as if I can’t remember why or who forgot to call, they probably weren’t on my mind enough to make me want to date them.

So I guess a few of my friends incorrectly assumed that I ‘dated’ – meaning I went out with six men on three or more dates and kissed each and every one of them before deciding “Nope – just kidding! You can leave now, buh-bye!” Of course, this is not the case. That’s poor form. And apparently if you’re female, so is ‘dating’ (as defined above) six men in as many months. I mention this because the friends that misunderstood me and my intentions immediately labeled me as ‘one of those’ girls – loose, promiscuous, and even easy… Despite the fact that men do this all the time – and for some reason that’s perfectly acceptable.

A friend of mine once told me that it didn’t matter if a guy ‘liked’ this one particular girl – he’ll still flirt with you and try to win you over as well. Why? Because guys go for multiple girls at a time – and I gotta hand it to you men: This idea is golden. Its brilliance lies in its simplicity: It’s all about statistics. The more you play the field, the better chances you’ll have to find the right person for you, or in some cases, you’ll have to get laid. So why is it ok for guys to ‘date’ that way based on how well it works and how intelligent it really is, but it’s not ok for us girls to do so as well?

Before anyone gets mad at me – I’m not referring to those kinds of girls that I mentioned above. You know, the ones that prey on men’s stupidity by going to the bar wearing practically nothing and flirting in order to get drinks, dinners, even jewelry and clothing but never letting anything go further? Yeah – No. I’m talking about those of us, male and female, who legitimately try to find the right person but are incorrectly judged as promiscuous based on the methods we chose to engage in during our search. We’re not being promiscuous; we’re being smart. We’re actually using that statistics crap we’ve been taught in lecture to our benefit!

But in the end it doesn’t really matter what those friends of mine think – They’re usually my bitterly single friends who complain about never being able to find a date, or how terrible the other sex is, or when they DO get a date have it spiral into friendship. This masculine form of dating is not only intelligent – it works. At least, it did for me.

But that post will come later.

The Green Eye'd Monster

Beware, my ladies (and gentlemen!), of jealousy...

I had a nightmare not too long ago about my ex, Pierre. In this dream Pierre had somehow found out, I'm guessing through a mutual friend of ours whom I bumped into during my Festivus shopping extravaganza, that I had gotten back together with Vegas after repeatedly denying Pierre any and all chances of ever getting within 10 feet of yours truly. Anyway, he had found out that Vegas and I were together, and in my dream he was literally chasing me down the street (reminiscent of an argument we once had over Vegas contacting me via email just to see how I was) yelling and screaming at me, saying stuff like "why are you back with HIM?? He broke your heart and I did NOTHING wrong!!" even though the majority of our relationship was emotionally abusive (read; it was like dating a needy, selfish, self-possessed chick who was always right but never satisfied. MEN, I respect you SO much for dealing with that after I experienced my Pierre debacle!).

I tried to run away down the street but he kept following me asking why I hadn't given him a second chance (which I did; BIG mistake!) and then when I continued to run away he decided to scream "YOU CHEATED ON ME!!!" because I had gotten back with Vegas... over a year after Pierre and I broke up? I don't know, it's a dream! Anyway I would sometimes manage to scream back "Leave me alone!!" which I had done in the past and this continues until someone who looked like a senior management personnel and his wife show up (random, I know!) and ask me if I am ok. By this point I am crying, saying "No I am not" but Pierre keeps screaming and calling me names. And then my alarm went off.

I spoke to Mackenzie about this and according to google the most common dreams one can have of an ex is either a)having sex with said ex or b) things like that, but never nightmares. That nightmare got me thinking of Pierre's and my other ex's irrational behaviour at times which I think I've managed to generally boil down to one reoccuring concept in the men I chose to date: Jealousy. I know that it's highly unlikely in the general population, but after the past four serious and semi-serious boyfriends, I can't help but wonder if all men are created equal in respects to their levels of jealousy?

Dont get me wrong here; I know plenty of super-jealous women who go to the extreme to keep their men all to themselves to the point where he is not allowed to have female friends, but being a non-irrational girl, I can only discuss this topic from the point of view that men are the more-jealous of the two, at least when he is in a relationship. With the exception of one boyfriend, let's call him 'Ward', all subsequent boyfriends or semi-serious men in my life have been at one time or another, or all the time, jealous. Now this jealous could extend well beyond the skeezy men you come across in the night-life of a twenty-something into areas of question; ie girls nights out, self-dates, school, me-time? Basically it was as if his jealous crossed over from 'protective male-instincts' to 'creepster chauvinistic-impulses', both of which are forms of jealousy but are tolerated in completely different ways.

To be fair, the first form of male jealousy, 'protective male-instincts', I can understand. I mean, I don't know how male minds work, and men do. So I guess it makes sense, like the daddy-hates-everyone-who-dates-his-daughter-because-he-knows-how-and-what-guys-think conundrum... and that I don't and will never mind; in fact, I like it. To me it tells me that a) he's protective of you, because we all know us girls look for our dad's in the men we date and eventually marry, and b) he knows you're hot shit, so he'd better treat you right and show interest in you and the men seeking your attention. No, it's the second form of male jealousy, 'creepster chauvinistic-impulses', that I can't and will never understand.

Preventing your girlfriend (or boyfriend for that matter) from having a life beyond you is NOT healthy. Nor is it SANE! I mean, really; that whole "one mind" mentality is bullshit. If you are so insecure that you cannot contemplate the fact that your significant other is a person with interests, friends, and a life to live outside of your sphere of influence, then maybe you ought to step back for a second and think of your true intentions of being in a relationship. Pierre was trying to fill a void using me and that is a dangerous game to play because in the end, despite how good of a person you are and all that you try to do, you're never going to be able to fill that emptiness for that person. A relationship should be symbiotic; equal in giving to and taking of the other with the realization that your significant other gives to all that are in her/his life, be it friends, future friends, family, co-workers, and classmates.

I get that men don't like to share their women sexually; women don't like to share their men sexually either! But when that no-sharing policy breeches into your activities of daily living, you gotta stop and think if this is the kind of relationship you want to be in; singular, all-encompassing, and more fit for a Stepford Wife/Husband than a modern Manolo-lite.

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.

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.

Only Me

Aka your 1:7 billion...

Another recurring and scary trend that I have noticed during my run on the mating game is that men you have for one reason or another deemed as a 'friend' may not always have your best interest in mind. I suppose that is not something groundshaking or new; but each time it presents itself to me I am shocked... friends are friends: they hold you up when you are down, they convince you you're a good person/beautiful/not incompetent when you believe you're awful/ugly/ridiculously incompetent... and when being your friend is that simple, guys and girls do an equally amazing job. However once dating advice comes into play, why is it that a number of guys, ok, a number of my so-called platonic guy friends bring up the "only me" statements that misdirect the conversation from you and guy-of-interest to you and guy- friend?

I do not know if this holds true for every girl with a handful of platonic male friends; someone you've deemed as having a quality or two that makes sleeping with them completely unacceptable. But for some reason or another, and whether or not they have girlfriends or significant others, they slip in some passive-aggressive statements that make you think, or at the very least pause and stop, that they are the only male on the planet who understands you?

Now we all know that this is impossible: there are 7 billion people on this planet, which comes out to a better chance that you will eventually find someone or many someone's out there who understand you. Besides, he's your friend, a buddy and not a potential boyfriend. You know that and as far as you are concerned he knows that. Except for the fact that this notion has not stopped three, yes three of my platonic guy friends from saying at one time or another, and repeatedly in one way or another that they are the only guy I know who 'gets me'.

I find this notion both laughable and insulting. If a girl said that to a guy, if a woman said that to a man, she would be written off as psychotic, unstable and crazy.... but when a guy does it to a girl, if a man does it to a woman... he is a hero; a knight in shining armor waiting to rescue her from the black-hole sun that is her dating field.

Let me give you an example: while watching a movie with my platonic, wonderful yet completely unfuckable friend... let's call him "Pete", made comments to me throughout and after the movie about my many quirks that he supposedly noticed during the few hours that we were together; now it was a nice revelation to hear, however he followed it up with "see? and I am probably the ONLY one of your friends who notices these things about you; I know you." He's said those things before, emphasis his, on the only that he dishes out to hammer home the fact that he and he alone knows my soul...

Point of fact: a lot of people know my quirks and can read me like a book, some better than others. But just because you have learned to recognize my idiosyncrasies and my small neurosis and believe them to be cute does NOT mean that you can convince me that you and I are eternal soulmates when I have already filed you away under the 'friends' category. Congrats, you know me, but that's not enough.

Another example: a friend of mine, let's call him "Vince", is currently dating and has dated this one girl for quite a while, a string of women that never seems to end. I don't blame him; he is smart, charming, giving and apparently amazing in the sack. Who wouldn't want him? ... oh, well besides me. We are friends: we decided that a while ago and have had a wonderful relationship ever since... but he's let slip many many many times that no other man could treat me as well as he could, and that he's upset that he'll never get to show me what real romance is, and that he is the only living proof that good men exist in this world.... well, you get the point.

Point of fact: yes there are a LOT of Sketchbag McGees out there who do not treat women or anyone for that matter well. Yes I have had my unfair share of them. However, I have to believe that there are more good men out there than there are bad... otherwise how else would I explain why those nice guys are always trapped with those bitchy girls and vice versa? Out of ... let's say 3.2 billion men in this world, more than 1 will know how to treat a lady. Seriously.

I guess it is so upsetting because this kind of passive-aggressive sell is only dished out once a person-of-interest enters your life, and it seems as if they are subconsciously trying to prevent a relationship from beginning so as to not lose that sense of hope that maybe, one day, some day, you'll turn around and see the light, proclaiming your undying love for them. First they find something wrong with your new guy while playing up their strengths; then they keep reiterating how well they know me in comparison without understanding that oh em gee this guy is brand new and hasn't even had a chance; and then they advise as 'friends' that I be careful and that there are a lot of wackos out there (dually noted) and that they are 'always here' if I need them (yeahuh). This kind of behaviour is only friendly on the surface: they make it seem as if they are looking out for your best interest when they are clearly only serving their own.

Not too long ago, Vince let slip that when he knows that I am single, and I venture that it is the same for all girls with platonic friends who want more, it gives him a sense of comfort knowing that I am 'still available'. What I can't help but wonder is ... we discussed the fact that we would never date, each friend of mine and I... so why in the face of the facts does he and Pete and other guy friends still try to sabotage another man's chance of legitimately being with me?

Seriously; in this drama scare tactics and reverse psychology only work on the stupid. If you successfully scare me into believing that no other can do whatever it is that you magically can... then I won't love you. I'll settle for you. And is that really want you want, to be settled for? To have her say 'I do' when it's really 'You'll do'? Really. If I am not dating you, and remember I am single, it's because you're missing something that I need in order to have a relationship with you. Scaring me into believing that no other man could possibly live up to your place of superiority is not the way to find what you don't have that I need. Oh no; but it does gets me off. Pissed off.

Oops!

Oops: a summation of a relationship, however brief, torrid, or catastrophic, generally understood by all parties involved to have been a mistake.

I was attending a good-bye party for one of my girlfriends, let’s call her Emily, who in a few days is gallivanting to South Eastern Asia for four months with her boyfriend, let’s call him David. The majority of the party was her girlfriends, I included, except for one “happy” couple, and I use that term objectively. See, this couple constitutes one of my domesticated friends, let’s call her Abby, along with her boyfriend of over a year, let’s call him Bram.

Let me begin with the fact that I adore Abby; she is smart, beautiful, career oriented, comes from a good and loving, God-fearing family and is on her way to a fantastic job and a fantastic life. So it confuses the hell out of me every time I see her as each time is few and far between and she is almost always attached to Bram. It is simply mind-boggling to me every time I see him holding her hand, or with his arm around her, or Heaven-forbid kissing her. Maybe I should expand; Bram is a bit older than her, give or take 4 years, with a job but no career, not very attractive facially, physically, intellectually, anything? He’s immature, funny only to himself, makes inappropriate remarks and jokes at the worst possible times… basically he is a walking train wreck, except one you simply MUST look away from. So I had to ask myself, how did this gong show of a guy have my gorgeous girlfriend in the palm of his hand?

The first thought that popped into my mind was obvious; however Abby is a good girl, traditional and proper, so the “he must be good in bed” excuse is out of the question. Money? I ventured a guess that he spoiled her rotten with gifts, dinners, mini-breaks and the like… until the bill came at the martini bar we were at, and it was Abby who pulled out her credit card from her clutch while Bram kept chatting away, like he was expecting her to pay for the pleasure of his company, his food, is alcohol, and his dessert. Now I am the modern type of woman; I enjoyed treating my man to a dinner, a drink or 2, or a movie no problems; however an acknowledgement was always in order for each of us, whoever was paying; a thank you from Bram would have been nice, however it seemed as if a thank you, let alone a glance at the bill was the furthest thing from his mind. So it cannot be money. Company? As I alluded to before, Abby is... well, perfect. Given the chance she could get any man at any time… so why Bram? Then it hit me; Pity! This must be a pity date, or a pity quickie relationship! During the past year we all kept thinking that one day Abby would show up solo, smiling and laughing like before with a “just kidding!” look in her eyes… but it’s been over a year, and Bram is still around. So really, what is going on here? This isn’t the first case I’ve come across where a gorgeous, intelligent, otherwise perfect girl is in a so-so relationship with a guy her friends wouldn’t touch with a 10-foot clown pole. So why is it that this otherwise reject-of-a-guy is getting the fantastic girl?

I guess it comes down to what a lot of people have been telling me; guys are intimidated by good looking girls. That is why you see a lot of hot girls walking around, holding hands and getting married to less than hot guys. The nice guys and the hot guys are not making any moves, therefore leaving the attractive women ripe for the taking. The nice guy complains that there are no nice girls left and that we all want the jerks; to this I say, well then make a move before the jerk gets her! Personally speaking, not a lot of men speak to me for one reason or another, so whenever a guy shows interest and makes a move, I will most likely respond just out of curiosity or who knows? Maybe even attraction; but this chain of events cannot occur spontaneously; you must make a move in order to see results. Jerks and less than … worthy I suppose? Gentleman get the girl simply because they try; they put in the little bit of effort that the nice guy can’t seem to do and as a result, the jerks and less than worthy men get all the women.

And I find that frustrating; not only for my friend Abby, but for myself. Heaven knows I’ve had my share of “oops!” with men I shouldn’t ever have touched with a 10-foot clown pole, but I did because they put in the effort while the nice guys I really liked sat back and watched, shaking their heads and seeing fit to lecture me when the relationship didn’t work out. I guess the final word is this; nice guys, make a move; and nice girls… don’t settle for the less-than-worthy guy … except if you can explain it away as a temporary bout of insanity, otherwise known as an oops!

The Importance of Something and the Meaning of Nothing

I think that one of the most frustrating feelings one could have while engaged in the dating game is the feeling of something that is missing, especially when you can’t place your finger on that “something”. Granted the entire idea of dating is finding out whether or not you are compatible with someone, and really when you think about it you’re going to get more misses than hits… but still. The moment of realization that this person you’re seeing may not be “the one” is always a let down. It’s not that there is anything wrong with that person… it’s just the fact that they are not right. You may not be able to concretely describe why this person is not right but deep down you know; and I guess that’s all the proof you need.

Last night I saw the teacher, a guy I met not too long ago with a profile (and jaw-line) that looked promising. He’s a bit older than I am, and although I understand that older doesn’t necessarily mean more mature, I prefer to see men who are at least 2-3 years older than I am. The teacher is attractive, intelligent, has a good job and a set routine, he’s great with kids and so relaxed, which is a nice opposite to my overactive mentality. We’ve had four or five dates and things were starting to appear promising. But last night was different; something was off about me, about my body, about my mind, so much that I had to stop what I was doing (and that wasn’t easy, let me tell you!) and think. It was like I had just run into a window pane of foggy glass. Apparently this “something” was quite noticeable, as even the teacher noticed the change in my mood, saying that he had never seen me so “pensive” and “gone so long without you talking”.

I have had the pleasure of meeting many people such as myself: that although I may not always say what is on my mind, if you know them/me well enough you can simply read it off their facial expressions and body language. In this case with the teacher, it seemed confusing to him but so obvious to me. I have a good understanding of my body language and how my mind works. I’m stubborn, so answers or warning signs that are clear to others often takes a bit longer to sink into my thick head, and I think that’s what happened last night with the teacher. I finally realized that something was off, and it was bothering me all night until this morning when it finally clicked. When it comes to the teacher, although he seems to have everything he is still missing something that I need:

Butterflies. He doesn’t give me butterflies, not when I see him nor when I think of him. And that is what I am missing. That is my “something” that has the potential, and probably will, to prevent me from dating the teacher. It is the “something” that I simply cannot do without, because without it what we have is … well, nothing.

I guess that’s the downside to knowing yourself too well; you know what you want and what you don’t want… but most importantly you know what you need. As nice as the teacher is, as cute and smart and oh-so-attractive, that something is missing; something important enough to make me reconsider our quasi-relationship.

I will admit that I am young; 21 to be exact, not really what one would call “seasoned” in the game of love. However I have been in love and I have been in relationships that feel right… well at least they did at the beginning, and I’ve been stuck in relationships that have felt so wrong I had to escape. So in a sense I know what I should be feeling and what I shouldn’t, what I need to feel and what I need to pursue a relationship with someone who fulfills those needs.

With the teacher I am content; I am not unhappy but at the same time I am not exquisitely joyful. And it’s not because of anything he has done or hasn’t done. We get along just fine, we’re both somewhat attracted to each other, we have similar interests and can make the other laugh. Now on paper this sounds lovely, and being with him is nice… but that’s all it is. The butterflies are missing, and I can’t trick my body or my mind into believing something else after experiencing what real love is like. I can’t, and nor should anyone else, fool myself into believing that a 5/10 relationship is worth it or good enough. I guess what it comes down to is this, my third dating mantra: Give me Butterflies, or Give me Space.

Some people call it butterflies, some people call it the zsa-zsa-zsu. Either way it’s that feeling in the pit of your stomach of nervousness that makes you feel excited and alive. Butterflies can change the way you breathe, the way you eat, the way you act, the way you speak. It’s the initial contact, the first touch, glance or stare that takes your breath away… and with the teacher it isn’t there. And that made me sad… but at the same time I do not believe in settling for an ok-relationship when I could find someone who gives me butterflies. As sad as I am in light of this fact… I don’t settle for anything else in life, not for shoes, not for education, not for friends, and not for me; so why should I settle for something as important as a potential lover? Settling for an ok lover makes absolutely no sense, and any lover/boyfriend/significant other I taken on must at least give me butterflies.

We're one, but we're not the same...

I really hate it when people should me. You know, “you should do this” or “you shouldn’t do that” or “you should be …..”, especially when the should relates to any and all events that contain emotions. One thing that I have learned in my studies is that there is a difference between sympathy and empathy in the sense that although you can relate to what someone is going through, you cannot truly know what it feels like for them simply because you are not them. Just because you had experienced a similar situation to someone doesn’t necessarily give you the right to decide where someone is in their recovery, or decide for them what they should do (see, there is that word again!). Particularly when you’re dealing with matters of the heart. As critical as your friends are when it comes to overcoming heartbreak, I can’t help but wonder how much help anyone can be with something so individual, as often I’ve found myself justifying my emotions rather than expressing them.

I was recently speaking to a guy about this, and maybe that was my first mistake, as men seem to be able to repress emotions better than women, about an ex of mine, Vegas actually, whose story still stings my chordae tendineae despite being two years over. This guy friend of mine, although well-meaning and wonderful, should-ed me in respect to the fact that I still am not completely over him… like I was wrong or inadequate for not being able to “look him in the eye and say ‘whatever I’m over you”. When I tried to explain that what happened really hurt and that since it didn’t happen to him it would be hard to understand, he shot back with a previous break up of his. Now under normal circumstances this would be all good and well, as empathy is always welcome when the heart hurts, however in this case the girl he broke up with that was so painful… well they are now engaged, not to mention that he got under his own free will and mind a permanent reminder of her etched on his body. So maybe I am missing something here, but all I could focus on was the fact that although yes they had broken up, yes both had experienced heart ache not unlike my own, their story had a happy ending, or should I say a happy beginning come this time next year at their wedding.

Half of me wished to respond in kind: to say “Well can you look her in the eye and say ‘whatever I am over you?’… Oh that’s right, no, because you looked her in the eye and said ‘marry me’.” Don’t get me wrong here: I am truly happy for them as they are wonderful people and even more wonderful together, but that fact, that ending negates all credibility in him emphasizing with my situation. What started out as a similar notion of love lost and pain found ended very differently for the two of us. In short he got what he wanted and I did not. He said those words to her that I wanted to her from my ex, but my ears are still half-straining for words that will never be said and an ending that will never happen. It confused me and still does now how he could say something like that knowing full and well that coming from him that expectation is baseless. It is one thing to be a “survivor” so to speak, of a particularly bad break up and to have successfully moved on and ask me why I haven’t been able to do the same. Granted I’d still be pissed off but I would understand: coming from someone who was there and maybe still is there, I can listen. But coming from someone who was there for a short time only to have their hope fulfilled and their wishes come true to ask me why I haven’t gotten over someone? It doesn’t seem right… maybe because it’s not.

The other half of me can see where this attitude is coming from. It is unfair to categorize this kind of behaviour to just teenagers and adolescence, the idea that “nobody understands what I am going through because NOBODY has hurt as much as I have/like I have… I’m such a victim”. In that scenario I can see how that kind of attitude is annoying, selfish and self centred. However I am well aware of the fact that there are people out there in the world who have suffered far more than I ever will in every sense of the world, that heart ache and loneliness has existed before I was born, and yes I have hurt, but the world goes on whether or not I chose to join it. Understanding all of this and trying to avoid the spotlight effect, it still hurts when someone expects me to be something I am not or do something that I simply cannot do right now, especially when it’s about love.

Current research suggests that the old cliché of your “first love” has a scientific basis; that when it goes awry it will always hurt the most and more disturbingly will always be permanently etched in your brain and heart. This is so because before your first love our minds and bodies did not know what love was, so during that first intimate or adult relationship your brain is creating new synapses and connections, much like learning a new language, that you refer back to when you think of love, thus referring back to the person who helped create those synapses, those connections between your higher brain functions and your heart. So in a sense we are chemically doomed to refer back to our first love as a basis for our subsequent relationships where “love” is re-stimulated. It is a bleak picture, but it makes sense; therefore I am not surprised that I am not fully over him and know that I never will be.

Individual experiences are just that: individual. Just like you cannot literally feel another persons physical pain, such you cannot completely understand another persons emotional pain. Knowing this, it is very difficult for me to accept another person’s obligations or expectations when it comes to “getting over” anything in accordance to their schedule no matter who they are or what they have gone through. Seriously, I can barely follow the bus schedule to get places on time, let alone something as important as my emotional well-being. I guess what I am trying to say is… To put it another way, a similar injury, say a myocardial infarction of similar strength and severity, can harm one person and kill another. Such is the pain of the first love; a similar injury of similar strength and severity, which I guess in this guys mind is the case, can harm one person (him) and kill another (me). You wouldn’t chastise the patient who died from a MI, or make the comparison to their family in regards to why one survived and one did not, so why chastise someone for a slow emotional recovery, or for not recovering at all?

The bottom line is this: His story and my story and all other stories are all completely different situations. I appreciate his attempt and all other attempts to emphasize with my pity-party, however you shouldn’t “should” someone. Your recovery is your own, however way you want it to be and however long you want it to be. If you’re reading this and hurting about something remember this: don’t let anyone dictate how long you should feel bad; you know yourself best. Don’t let anybody should all over you.

La Belle et Le Dumb Ass

I’m so over, I need a new word for over.

I’ve decided to add, amongst other things, another mantra to my ever-expanding set of dating standards; one of my very close friends, lets call her “Mackenzie” came up with our first and very useful manta of “Wow me or else I haven’t much use for you” has proven very effective in my not-so-effective search for a good date. However I realize that manta number one, although broad and umbrella-like, does not expand to those men in my life who have managed to wow me but at the same time have left me hanging. I'm talking about those men who play these games of red-light ~ green-light with me until… well until I’m just about ready to turn around leave the playing field altogether. Maybe those in science, or those who have read and remembered Angels & Demons by Dan Brown will know exactly what I am talking about, but for those of you who do not, I introduce Carrie’s 2nd dating mantra for the Manolo-lite: “Substantiate or Suffocate”.

Substantiate or Suffocate, Publish or Perish, or more specifically in this situation, Prove it or Lose it. Like with any good research and in the end good dating involves a little bit of research in the field about a person(s) you are interested in, either you prove your theory or get out of the lab. This theory I speak of could be one of two things: either we are good together or we are not. Don’t get me wrong here; we could be good together as friends, but not on the dating scene. Either way once you’ve managed to extract the information you need to draw your conclusions, publish or share your thoughts and either move in or move on. The absolute worst thing you can do to a potential lover is keep them on the line by dragging out your “experiment” for any reason whatsoever. I don’t care if you are curious to see how intimate you can become without actually becoming intimate, or if you can get that guy or girl in bed without having to call them your boy/girl friend, or even call them at all. There are plenty of guys and girls out there who are looking for that, but for those of us who are legitimately looking for someone to love and be loved by, leave us the hell alone.

I mean, it is one thing to keep your distance at the beginning of a relationship, when at first you are unsure of the other persons motive, but that stage usually lasts oh … 3, 4 months? I mean, if you are sleeping with them or suggesting sleeping together then already you are way beyond the point of understandable distance. If you know what you want, or what you don’t want, then say something. Substantiate your need and share it with those implicated, otherwise you’ll end up suffocating not only yourself but the person you’ve involved in this twisted little game.

But the game can be hard to quit, especially when it is orchestrated by someone you want. Even intelligent women can fall into this trap of ambiguity, believing that something, no matter what it is, is better than nothing. Sure it sucks to be alone and life really is much better with someone you have “something” with, but when that “something” begins to stifle your confidence, your style, and your life? I find it hard to believe that something that is supposed to be an incredible experience can in the end leave you in a bind. Is this "something" really better than nothing? I guess I am about to find out.

I stopped talking to Paris. Well, not really, but we no longer speak the way we used to. I am very good at speaking from a soap box from behind my computer screen, spilling my idyllic opinions, but really my words don’t count for half as much as my actions. It is one thing for me to type out my beliefs, especially one as important as this, but it is another to act on it. So I’ve stopped speaking to Paris… and trust me, it is so hard.

It is not as simple as me not liking him anymore. Oh no. He is still the coolest of cats, the hippest of men in my life, and the embodiment of unrequited awareness to the point that if I continue down this path of ambivalence with him I think I actually might choke on the words that go unsaid. I may stumble over my words when I am tired, overworked and underplayed, but I can no longer allow something as natural as my emotions trip me up and distract me from my existence.

It seems to me, and I may be wrong that the modern man either wishes to dominate the person he is with or be dominated by them. I know plenty of girls, myself included, that inadvertently found themselves in a dominating relationship. These changes occur slowly, almost unnoticeable until it is too late. Some, like me, fight back while others allow it to eventually take over. If these women are happy this way then so be it; happiness is subjective. However, being dominated 100% of the time is simply not my bag, baby. Nor is being the dominant one in a relationship. I do not wish to control my significant other, what’s the point? I can hardly control myself, especially now that surprise sidewalk sales are popping up along these crowded streets. Nor do I find it empowering or liberating to be in command of all the aspects of a relationship, oh no. That is way too much work for anyone to take on, let alone a modern Manolo-lite such as myself. I have enough trouble being in command of my laundry.

However, and there is always a however, I can’t help but wish that there was a slightly more mature way of dealing with a toxic researcher. I understand completely that my not speaking to Paris is completely immature and juvenile, but what the hell else am I supposed to do? The hardest part is… well, Paris knows me too well and sensed that something was up or “off” about me the second the phrase “Substantiate or Suffocate” rang in my head. He knows that something is up and has even asked me about it… but I know that if I even hint at beginning a conversation it will not end the way I want it to. I know how that looks, like I want to control the situation and him instead of having it the other way around. Trust me, this is not the case. I simply want control back over myself, and that cannot be too much to ask. Except… I think he is on to me. He (after initiating a conversation and failing to get what was “up” with me out of me) no longer says good-bye or anything civil… he didn’t even end the conversation, he just let it fade away.

Why is it that when I finally catch on to the games people play and using this knowledge to impede its proceeding, does another game begin? It is so easy to say, and in a sense it is true, that this entire thing is his fault, but in the end, it’s still my problem. I’m sure he cares about me… but that’s not enough. I’m still suffocating and what I need right now he can’t give me: a breath of fresh air.

You've Got Male!

Zen and the Art of Internet Dating

As odd as this may sound, maybe not so much anymore, I have found and received (and had delivered right to my door!) a lot of great things from the internet. For example, I take pride in saying to whoever compliments me on my favourite red dress that yes, "I got it from the internet"! More recently, my straightening iron from a power seller in the States and a box of green tea from Mighty Leaf in Canada have helped to reduce the gong show that is my (current) morning routine. So if Ive been so lucky in finding material and food goods from the internet with little to no problems, I can't help but be curious: why not try finding a man on the internet, or at the very least a date?

I know what you are thinking: "Carrie, that's SKETCH CENTRAL. Why don't you go out and meet people the normal way?" To this I reply: Thanks Einstein, but I already knew it was sketch central, but so are bars. And clubs. And shopping malls. And the gym. And anywhere else I've met these so called "normal" people. It is an overly-simplistic view that psychopaths ONLY congregate on the internet, leaving those of us who surf only to check our emails, check our status on the almighty Ebay, or Google the latest eliminated pair on "So You Think You Can Dance?" in consistant danger as supposed to being out there with the so called "normal" people out in the physical world. Hmmm... last time I checked you have a better chance of running into a sketch-bag at Bulldog than in my apartment through a computer screen, but who knows? I might be wrong.

Not to discount completely what you say. There is of course the risk of meeting a psychopath online, thank you "Dateline", as the greatest advantage to online dating is being able to hide behind a screen, but I've met my fair share of psycho-men in real life and let me tell you, it's a hell of a lot easier to shut your computer down, or remove your semi-anonymous listing from the site than changing your locks, moving out of your apartment and informing the police. So as I sit here sipping my internet tea, I ask the question: what is the good, the bad, and the oh em gee of internet dating?

I read an article once about how the semi-prevalence of ADD in todays society is in fact, caused by todays society. The fact that we as students, as workers, as friends, and as lovers are being asked, no, demanded, to multi-task and do as many things as possible all at once; like typing this out while working and on the phone sipping my non-fat-double-foam mocha latte. So if the amount of tasks we have to complete in a day have doubled, maybe even tripled, yet the number of hours in a day have clearly not, where and how is the modern girl supposed to squeeze in time to hunt for or be sought after by a man?

Enter the match-makers: you know, the well meaning friend, co-worker or even boss (don't laugh: it HAS happened) who know the so-called "perfect guy" for you and when it turns out that they are, in fact, NOT the perfect guy for you the situation just gets messy. Don't get me wrong here; match-makers are great. Their job or hobby is a lot harder than you think, and dating in general is a hit-or-miss situation. However the best person really to play matchmaker with your heart is you. As well as your girlfriends, or guy friends may know you, in the end you and only you know exactly what you want, who you are looking for, and what you are looking for.

Which brings me to my point: I've heard of a few internet dating sites, mostly from watching late late night television prevalent during an insomniacs morning. I agree that the majority of internet dating sites are sketch: the Ashley Madison;s and sites like that which encourage "exploration" while in a monogamous relationship are not the kinds I am speaking about. That is something I hope I never have to experience in any way, shape or form. No, I am talking about those local sites that are always advertised on the radio or in your email that really nobody pays attention to.... or do they?

I couldn't help but remember my first run-in with internet dating: I was 17 and in Toronto visiting my cousin, who at the time was just about to turn 18. She had met this guy, apparently really nice, on Lavalife and spent the evening before we were to meet on the phone with him. Seriously, I went to bed and she was on the phone, and I woke up and you guess it, she was still on the phone with him. I was going as a sort of escort, which was good on her, however not 2 minutes before he walked over to us she turned and said to me "Oh by the way we are 19 and you go to university." I stood there flabbergasted at this outrageous lie, as I was clearly in high school, grade 12, with no idea what it was like to be in university, and the same went for her. If my cousin, someone genuinely removed from some types of reality can fool a person she met on the internet... what chance do regular people have?

I was listening to the Team 1200 one morning, or evening, I don't remember, when I heard the advert for one local dating site named after the infamous cherub, or Saint really, who makes February the reason for or bane of ones existance depending on if you are in a relationship or not. Figuring that I had tried the usual bar scene and got sick of it even before I could legally drink, and my lifestyle being what it is (read: not condusive to meeting said-normal people) I thought "hey, what the hell? Let's give it a shot". So about 10 minutes later as I sat in my sweatpants and scrunchie, I created my very first internet dating profile. I didn't expect to get a lot of hits, especially since my profile has but a silhouette instead of a photograph, but you know what they say: nothing ventured, nothing gained. I figured the last date was so greviously awkward I really had nothing to lose, except maybe 10 minutes of my time. So I filled out the little boxes with descriptions of who I am and what I am looking for, clicked "saved" and off I was. This site claimed to be able to "match" you with men who, according to your profile and his, would be suitable for each other. Me being skeptical said "yeah uh-huh ok let me take a look for myself thank you very much..". So I did.

And herein lies the rub. The problem with internet dating is that to me... when I was searching through this sites datase, it kind of felt and still feels like I am picking from an inventory of single men within 50 miles of my area code. It was like a "Google" search for a soulmate. Not to sound judgemental or anything, but it felt... well, awkard. You open up someones profile, headed by the usual one-liners, punch lines or song lyrics, take a look at what they say about themselves, and maybe even a picture of 2, and you go from there. I found myself being really, how do you say, picky, when choosing the people I'd actually click on/with... and about after half an hour I just got sick of it.

As modern as we are in the 21st century, and as fabulous as it is to search for a significant other while in your panties without it being awkward, it really isn't as fun as searching in real life. Real time glances, eye contact and flirtatious moves cannot be replaced or replicated onto a server, no matter how good the site you sign up for is. Not to mention doing all of this while looking drop-dead gorgeous.

By the way, the date that my cousin ended up dragging me along to was hilarious. They had spent the night speaking to each other so much that when they finally met face to face, they had nothing to say. So, thanks said-internet-dating site, but no thanks... I'm sure you must have tonnes of matches out there for me just like you did for my cousin... now if only I could remember to check my inbox... I guess I'm too busy living life in real-time to find a soulmate online.

My Exquisite Pain

Since when did an oxy-moron like this make so much sense?

I have decided that I am one of those people that like pain. No, enjoys pain; THIRIVES on pain, because seriously, any sane person who does not enjoy pain would not torture herself the way I do. Let me explain. As I have said before; communication is key, a powerful key that can either make or break a relationship. In most cases communication is a great thing, except when it is used to the advantage of one person over the other. I mean, there is one thing with using or withholding communication to keep me interested in you; it is another thing completely to use it to keep me hanging. Paris does this to me, although I don’t think he means to, and if he does then my god… how I hate it and love it.

We’ve always been on the boarder line of friendship-and more, and in the half hour we had together he managed to send me a barrage of mixed signals, ones that say “we’re just friends” to “I want to be more”… a casual “we wouldn’t be a good pair” is counteracted with a literal pick-me-up-hug, face in my neck and hair, and a pause with each other, distanced but close… I don’t know. He says one thing and does another… and I don’t know what to believe.

The problem is this: I didn’t do anything about it and I still don’t do anything about it. It’s not that I am not woman enough to tell a guy how I feel; I already did. And I got burned… well, not burned, but I didn’t get the answer I was hoping for or better yet expecting based on the signals we were sending each other since… well since we met each other. Once I’m rejected, with guys or with anyone in general, it doesn’t matter if it was done as nicely as possible and with good and valid reasons. The fact remains that I am twice as shy when it comes to exposing myself again in such a vulnerable fashion, especially for someone as independent as I am.

Half of the time we are fabulous friends; we get along swimmingly, have great casual conversations, and overall friendly fun. The other half… let’s just say I do NOT talk with any other guy like that unless I was interested in more; learning more, being more, getting more… you catch my drift. The topics are deeper, the conversations longer, thoughts provoked, ideas exchanged… not to mention the fact that he’d do me good, just based on how well he can stimulate my mind.

I hadn’t seen him in a long time and according to a platonic guy friend of mine, there isn’t a guy in the world who would meet anyone for half a hour unless they liked me. Fair enough; I know he likes me. Liking someone is crucial for any relationship above a casual acquaintance. But the touching, hugging, hair-playing, pausing, overall closeness mixed into the friend-only bits of conversation? I don’t know.

And not knowing is driving me insane.

Paris has it easy; he KNOWS how I feel; I was woman enough to put it out there, and yet here I am, at the mercy of a man, wondering how the hell he feels about me, about this, about us… and it is literally making me mad. Bloody hell!

I think… I think, he is giving me enough to keep me close, to keep me wanting, to keep me interested in him. But he is not about to give me exactly what I want, and would prefer to keep me on the line until… until what? Guy friends and girl friends tell me Paris likes me; so what is the hold up?

Greg Behrendt of “He’s Just Not That Into You” fame, wrote that if a guy was truly interested but couldn’t do a relationship for actual reasons, that he would let you know immediately instead of keeping you hanging. Paris let me know immediately when we had the conversation-of-ultimate-awkwardness that his issue was his alone; and that if that issue was not present then there would be no problem. SO is that what Greg is talking about? And if so, then why continue the mind games when clearly he knows what I want from him?

Or does he?

It’s not like I have been sitting around waiting for him to pull his head out of his ass. I was semi-seeing The Medic a few months after our conversation-of-ultimate-awkwardness occurred, and I even have another date with an Officer McDreamy. I just wish I could stop thinking about Paris when I’m trying to move away. Maybe he’s like me in the sense that we don’t want what we can’t or won’t have in front of our faces, but that doesn’t me that we don’t want them within eyesight. So then why is it that neither of us can truly hang on to the other but at the same time can’t truly let go?

To Want or Be Wanted...

whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune...

They say that hope is sweeter than possession. Obviously whoever said that must either enjoy the sensation of pain or they have never really possessed anything worth holding on to. Now I don't know about you, but if I had the choice of either hoping for a pair of Jimmy Choos or possessing a pair of Jimmy Choos well... do I even have to answer that? So why is it when it comes to love, do I and many other women out there keep falling for the men we simply cannot have? And I'm not talking about celebrities here; I'm talking about real people; tangible, palpable people that you interact with on a daily, weekly or monthly basis. Oh sure, you say you're just friends but really... one of you or sometimes even both of you feel that extra little bit. And it's funny how that extra little bit can make things a whole lot more... complicated, that is.

Being on both sides of this predicament is a challenge, but not to up-play la douleur exquise, it's a hell of a lot harder being the want-er rather than the wanted. I know this because I've been both and while being the wanted is a great ego boost, it's not without its moments of awkward and feeling like an unintentional tease which is without a doubt the worst kind of tease there is. Either way, knowing that you are wanted is a power-trip as supposed to being the want-er where every moment spent talking to that person, being in that persons presence, feeling those feelings that you just can't help in the ends up making you feel pretty powerless. Right now I'm in the unique situation that I've found myself being both the want-er and the wanted. And I'll tell you right now; it sucks.

One of my ex's, let's call him "Vegas", has decided recently that he made a mistake when he broke things off... 2 years ago. He's come up with excuse after excuse about ending our relationship, and although I must admit I was heartbroken, it is also in the past. I picked up and moved on... apparently Vegas didn't get that memo. I stay in touch with him for old times sake, but I can't see myself with him again. I love him, but that kind of love is behind me and I have nowhere to go but forward. Vegas... well, despite attending a top-rated post-secondary institute in a challenging yet very rewarding program, cannot look to the future without being reminded of his past. Now, this is all very sad, but I am of the belief that both of us should not be made to suffer for his decision. The phone calls, the concerned looked, the drinks and conversations are all well and nice, but nothing is going to happen. In this case I am not the one that got away; I am the one he let go, therefore only he should live with that.

I don't mean to be an agace. I returned emails and phone calls out of politeness but more so curiosity. I have to admit it is always vindicating when an ex comes crawling back professing their stupidity and regret, but after a while the "I told you so" high fades and reality begins to sink in: that while this person may have toyed and crushed your emotions, that doesn't give you the right to toy with theirs. Unless they deserve it, but most of the time they don't. So how do you stop being wanted? You don't, that is not in your control. As it turns out, it's the want-er who has the power in this relationship.

Not to say that being the want-er is easier. Absolutely not. It is an exquisite pain, seemingly by choice to the outside viewer but really, internally, if I could stop wanting and re-gain my emotional posture, believe me I would, and sometimes I do. Sometimes everything is just fine and your relationship is neutral in a sense that it is so good it's bad. But then that person goes and does something that pulls at your heartstrings, or stirs up the feelings that just won't stay suppressed that I and many other of my girlfriends find ourselves tripping head over feet and landing smack on our ass.

There is this guy who is currently ma douleur exquise... let's call him "Paris", and has been for a long time. Our relationship didn't start that way; in fact it never does, but as hard as I tried I simply could not resist. It started out with the little things. A look here, a joke there... There was always something about him that I couldn't quite put my finger on, and once circumstances changed it grew to a conversation here, a similarity there... and then it got even deeper. I've known Paris for a while now, and I don't know what it is about him, but he can literally see right through me. Unless I am actually clear as glass, to which then I reply "oh" but... he can. And it's scary; normally I have to be poked and prodded and BEGGED to talk and give information and whatnot to people I don't really know but with him... I literally have to hold my tongue and not talk to him on the phone because I feel as if I could talk to him forever... and I haven't felt like this about someone in a really long time.

But just like Paris, France; he's not exactly here and I am not exactly there. The worst thing is he straight up told me that if things were different then... well things would be different. The problem is, this happened a while ago. Like a WHILE ago, and I had thought I had moved on.

I mean, it was awkward as hell at first, but I refused to let it affect what was going on, despite everything. I guess it would have helped if he had been an asshole instead of being... himself. But eventually, or so I had believed, I got over it. Hell, I even started seeing other people and yet here I am, trying to run away from someone I'd much rather be as close to as possible and in every possible way.

It's funny how certain people can rope you back in just as you're about to escape. Now I'm not saying that I'd prefer being trapped, oh hell no. It's just... in this case I can't be let go, even when I want to. I know for a fact that he isn't the one; I need someone more my style and someone who will fit into my life rather than become it, or worse even make me change my life to become theirs; but I feel he is one. And I, as I'm sure almost everyone else, don't like knowing that something I want is something I can't have.. let alone having it in front of my face. My rational mind keeps telling me that it is for the best but seriously... it sucks.

So to answer the question, is it better to want or be wanted? No... they both suck.

Communication: A Dying Art?

I have to tell you something; but first I gotta figure out how...

I've been thinking about communication a lot lately... or moreso the lack of communication that seems to be happening. I know that people say, and these are really smart people so I guess I should listen to them, that communication is the cornerstone of any successful relationship, be it intimate, friendship, or colleague-ship, .. communication is key; except there are so many different forms of communication; verbal, written, body, spoken and unspoken, and lets not forget the telepathic conversations you can have with your girlfriends. And yet, with all the technologies and advances of the modern world, we can still manage to screw it all up. I mean, think about it; if you can't come up with a word to use you can google it; you can delete anything that doesn't sound correct (as I just did), check, double check and re-check to be sure that you say exactly what you want to, when you want to, and how you want to. So why is it that both men and women still claim lack of communication as the #1 downfall in marriages and relationships? I used to wonder if it was as simple as the different communication styles that men and women have... women like to talk and men like to do (no pun intended). But as the roles and expectations of men and women are blurred with every passing day, so do in a sense our communication styles.

I've had the pleasure, or should I say dis-pleasure seeing how that relationship ended, of dating a guy who was really into the whole "metro" thing. Don't get me wrong here; there are plenty of aspects about that kind of lifestyle that were purely beneficial for someone like me who was used to dating manly-jocks; he always looked good, dressed well without my help or insistence, took care of himself and was into communication, he enjoyed talking on the phone, having deeper conversations.. holding hands, cuddling and romantic dinners he cooked himself. You know, the "sensitive guy" we women always seem to want. At times it was like I was dating a chick, except not, as no matter how metro a guy gets he is still deep down a man which has its obvious benefits, or should I say necessities for an intimate relationship. He was still the main bug-killer, the one who'd reach for the stuff I needed off a tall shelf, the guy who'd install your shower-heads and fix your broken doors but still retained that sensitivity despite all these masculine activities.

The downside, or maybe up-side if you look at it another way, of dating a guy who's very much like a chick, is that you get to see first hand all the annoying tendencies and forms of communication we women tend to have or are stereotyped with when dating someone you really like; all the necroses that guys complain about; the neediness, the possessiveness, the insane bouts of jealousy, the hissy fits and crying to manipulation central... really ladies; the way we communicate sometimes is so NOT cool! I know that we don't mean to do it, and even when we do mean to do it because there are girls who do, we don't honestly understand the ramifications of our actions until, as the saying goes, it happens to us and the stiletto is on the other foot.

I used to refer to this as the "needy-chick syndrome", now known as the "needy-chick/needy-guy syndrome", which is kind of like domestication except for the fact that often one person takes this lifestyle choice a bit too far to the point where one persons' choice becomes the others obligation. It starts with the little things; one phone call a day becomes 2, becomes 3, becomes 4... a weekly sleepover on weekends becomes a nightly trek to one persons' apartment, and when you want to sleep by yourself in your bed he wants to come with you. A weekly lunch date during your 40s hours becomes an every day thing, even when you had breakfast with this person and will undoubtly have dinner with him and then go to bed with him. Nights out with your girl friends are met with resentment or "I'll come with you’s!" or "Meet me later" or even worse, met with nothing but silence... This NC/NG syndrome is a form of communication that I personally cannot STAND. It is communicating to your partner without actually communicating: you're telling them as supposed to discussing with them that hey, I don't just want you, I NEED you. At every possible moment of every possible day... and that is soo annoying. It is probably the worst possible form of communication because this kind of behaviour isn't conducive to compromise, as people tend to get defensive or worse, deny their actions and well, communication gets the kibosh and eventually so does the relationship.

Now of course, not every relationship ends like this, or at least that's what people keep telling me. But I can't help but be cynical or even a bit hesitant when it comes to my style of communication, and how well it meshes with the men I decide to date. I obviously could not communicate to "Philippe" how much his behaviour disturbed me, so how in the world am I supposed to communicate to whoever else comes along something just as important? I think the problem was that there was absolutely no communication between us; there was communication at me, but not so much with me and as soon as that started the relationship stopped... so I dumped the douche bag.

I think that in the end at the heart of any relationship lies communication; voluntary or involuntary. Whether it be spoken or unspoken, normal or bordering on the insane, male-or-female influenced, communication still makes or breaks a relationship... despite how good the sex is.

Domestication: Friend or Foe?

Is it better to be an undomestic diva or a domestic door-mat?

I've been discussing this disturbing trend with one of my new co-workers, a 20 something full-time office chick/part time student whom I've be-friended. We're both on the look-out for new wing-girls, you know, the girl friends who are always up for a night out dancing, boy-hunting and just plain fun. Not to say that our current girlfriends aren't fun anymore: quite the contrary, when we DO see them they are a blast. But herein lies the rub; we hardly ever see them anymore and when we do, they seem to have permanently attached themselves to their boyfriends hips.

On one hand, who can blame them? Being attached to someone's hip has its obvious benefits. As one of my girlfriends often says in her quest for a significant other, "Coupled people do not go out clubbing; they stay in and fuck." And when they do emerge from the bedroom, they are so immersed with each other they may have well just stayed in there. Other perks included in domesticdom are semi-permanent dinner dates, movie dates, someone to stay in with when the weather gets bad, and someone to accompany you on all those boring mudane tasks us single and fabulous (!) girls must do alone. So, from the outside looking in, domestication doesn't sound so awful.

However, and there is always a however, freedom-loving Manolo lites, including yours truly, can and have fallen into the domesticdom-trap. Anyone who has been in a relatively serious long-term monogamous relationship can attest to this: after a while you start to act, think and believe as an entirely different person, and from the inside looking out, things can get a bit foggy.

Last summer I found myself in a semi-serious relationship with a guy, lets call him "Phillipe", and sure as hell I found myself domesticated. I would sleep at this guys place almost every night, even though my apartment was on the street where I worked and his was across a bridge and often required 2 buses to get where I was going, not to mention losing the 45 extra minutes of beauty sleep I so thoroughly enjoy. And if that wasn't enough, after spending the night and morning with him he would meet me for lunch when clearly I should have been socializing with my girl friends, or at the very least a co-worker whom I've now developed full blown crush-affair with... hey, a girl's gotta have her priorities! And even after spending the morning with him, having lunch with him and talking to him on the phone, "Philippe' still managed to convince me to either spend the night as his aparment again or crash at mine, although his preference was obviously his place, despite the geographic proximity of our work-places to my apartment. If my behaviour was any indication, my girl friends must have been driven crazy! "Philippe" had managed to go from being my summer boyfriend to being my summer. Only now do I realize just how much I missed out on after falling into what I call the domestic-trap.

Looking back on this as I enter my summer in singledom, I can see the ups and downs of domestication. Sure, domesticdom has its perks, but myself and anyone else who has been in a long-term monogamous relationship has to be careful not to become a "domestic doormat", women (and men) who freely give up their individual lives to become one with another. As a freedom-loving Manolo-lite, I thought myself immune to such trickery, but "Philippe" and countless other men I know have successfully tamed some of the wildest women I know, including myself. I am talking about girls who under normal circumstances would hit on bars and boys for drinks and dances who now drop similar plans for a movie night pour deux... in other words, sans moi. The worst part is, I often find myself losing touch with these 'domestic doormats' in hopes to salvage what little social life I have left.

Not to say that their social lives are completely void, oh no. Their calendars are always free for 'couples nights', implying that if I want to see them I'd best get myself a boyfriend or at least someone I am casually dating to tag along for the ride... I guess I am simply not a fan of needing a boyfriend to hang out with my girlfriends.

Now, I know it is not fair or correct to couple all taken-girls into that one awful category. On the contrary; I know some pretty fabulous halves, women I like to call "domestic darlings". These girls are in monogamous relationships and spend quality time with their boyfriends/lovers/significant others. However, they have also mastered the art of having a life outside of their relationship.

Some of my girl friends, the very lucky ones, have boyfriends/lovers/significant others who encourage these girls to keep their social lives and their girlfriends, and when they join us for a night out they are never overbearing or controlling; in fact they are quite fun. One particular girl friend, lets call her "Angelica" and her fiance, let's call him "Joe" have perfected the art of having a lover AND having a life. I would even go as far as to say, it is the type of domestication a Manolo-lite like me wouldn't mind having. But as I said, this summer I've found myself a happy resident of singledom, meaning I'm a bit cynical... I'm hopefully enough to keep looking for a relationship like that, but I'm smart enough to realize that "Angelica" and "Joe" are the exception to the rule.

So what's a single (and fabulous!) gal to do when she's stuck between the singledom haven and domesticdom wonderland? I am not about to give up the freedom and spontaneity of singledom for the pleasures and stability of domestication... I just hate the fact that so many of us have to chose between one or the other.

No love...actually.

When the love ends but the relationship unfortunately doesn't...

When it comes to relationships, a bit of give and take and the all-mighty compromise is necessary for its survival. Some relationships are meant to be and others start out great but eventually fizzle out and end for one reason or another. We've all heard of lingering emotions after an official breakup, but who has heard of a lingering relationship?

I was once in a relationship for approx 1 and a half months. It was long distance with someone whom we'll call "Ben". I had met "Ben" through a mutual friend. He seemed decent enough but as things changed I found myself unable to balance school, work, social and personal time with him being 200 clicks away. The latter half of month 2 was spent trying to break things off as I figured breaking this off early would spare us both the time, money and heartache that comes with a long distance relationship. Unfortunately for me "Ben" just didn't get it. When I finally managed to break things off "Ben" still didn't get it. Then came the calls and the emails. I reiterated my stance that no, we are not going to get back together despite his insistance that in 2 weeks I would come crawling back.

Well, 2 weeks passed and not only did I not come crawling back, I started seeing someone that I really liked. Of course "Ben" learned of this and you guessed it! He still didn't get it. Then came the note taped secretly to the back of a favourite cd he had kept hostage followed by a visit to my brother asking for a second chance with me.

At this point I had had enough. A 2 month relationship was being elongated against my will for over 7 months after the fact. If I said "no" the first time, what makes you think that I will say "yes" the millionth time? When a former significant other, be it a boyfriend, girlfriend, husband or wife, for no matter how long you have been together tells you "I don't want to be with you" or "This is not going to work" it does NOT and I repeat does NOT mean "Try harder". It does not mean keep calling or emailing trying to convince your ex otherwise. That is not called love. That is called manipulation.

Now, this is something that everyone I know, including myself, is guilty of. We've all called or emailed an ex once or twice asking them for a second chance, but usually, normally, when the calls are not answered, the emails are sent back and the belongings are returned, you give up. You move on. You realize that no matter what you do or say this person is not going to change their mind. When you think about it, if you have to manipulate, trick or force someone to love you and to stay with you... then maybe its not right. Nobody likes having their free will messed with, especially concerning something so important as an intimate relationship. "Ben" refused to believe or listen to anyone but himself when it came to our dead relationship. Instead of accepting the facts, which were might I add right in front of his face, he chose to argue his way through and push his opinion upon myself, my friends and my family.

Now, maybe we all didn't learn the same things in kindergarden, but throwing a hissy fit will not get you what you want. If you even have to throw a hissy fit instead of maturely accepting your former significant others wishes, with time of course, then the question remains: is this ending a result of non-compatability or non-compliance? Is he or she not giving you what you need or what you want? Instead of trying to force someone into agreeing with what you feel is right, if you have to force someone to comply with what you feel is best then you know what? The relationship is already over. If one person is making all of the decisions without respect or consideration for the others feelings or opinions then you're not even in a relationship. No sense in trying to convince someone into remaining in something that is actually nothing.

The Nice Guy...

Is there really hidden treasure buried underneath the guys you call "friends"?

I recently caught myself saying those words that every twenty-something girl says to her friends when faced with a surprisingly common problem. It is something I am sure every woman in her life has said to her friends, her family, or even her boyfriend to describe a "nice guy" in her life. Those words are "we're just friends". The problem is I found myself rejecting a great guy, a co-worker actually, simply because we are, in my opinion "just friends". Unfortunately I found out that I was wrong.

Twenty-something girls, at least us "Manolo lights", seem to be doing this all backwards. We are attracting the "nice guys", the guys who call you when they say they will, who talk to your face on a date instead of your chest, who buy you coffee or lunch without expecting a glorious make-out session afterwards that he can brag about to his buddies or anyone who will listen. They are cute, kind and oh so available. The kind of guys who will go shopping with you without complaining, who don't care if you answer the door in sweats, who see you for who you are and love you regardless. And in return, we label them as our "friends" and run to them when the assholes we actually date show their true colours. But for some reason we don't want them. They are the kind of guys we love to hang out with, but we don't hang out with them because we love them. No... We hang out with them because "we're just friends".Why do we do that? Why don't we date the nice guys?

The rationales I've heard over the years are as follows: "... Don't want to ruin our friendship" ... "It would be too weird..." "He is like a brother to me..." and so forth. It's as if twenty something girls and guys would rather have their hearts broken by the toxic players than date a "nice guy" or a "nice girl", yet claim to want exactly what the "nice guys/girls" are. Why are we looking for that special someone who is right in front of our faces? Why are we unwilling to take a chance on a "nice guy"?

They say that "nice guys finish last" and you know what, they do. "Nice guys" don't take as many chances with women, be they "Manolo-females" or "Manolo lights" as the toxic players and even when they do they're labeled as our "friends". They finish last because they put themselves last and in turn, we put them last too. As much as we want a "nice guy"... we don't. Or at least that is the message we are sending our "nice guys"; that if you want us, stop being nice. Then there really would be no nice guys left. But they don't stop. Real "nice guys" remain "nice guys", even when faced with rejection. Maybe one day, they think, we'll realize that although our "nice guy" is good as a friend, he's even better as a lover. That he may not be what we are looking for at the moment, but if given a chance he just might be?

My co-worker is the classic "nice guy". He has a successful career, his own place and fantastic ambitions. He is funny, kind and really sweet. I'd be hard pressed to describe him without calling him a "nice guy" because that is exactly what he is. However, I just can't get myself to like him as anything more than as a friend. Why, when faced with a perfectly wonderful guy whom my girl friends would date in a second, I can't because he has that "just friends" label and I end up doing nothing. I know that this particular "nice guy" would treat me like a princess, I just can't get over that "nice guy" hump.

Maybe "nice guys" are destined to always finish last. I wonder if I'll ever be able to say that my "nice guy" finished last because he makes sure I finish first.

My place or ... your parents?

When I said I'd go home with you, I didn't mean literally.

At first I thought this was a blip, something so out of the ordinary that it managed to stick out in my mind. I had heard about one or two examples before but each individual had a perfectly good reason for being in this situation. Except I kept hearing more and more examples coming out of the woodwork, prompting me to stop and take notice. Another interesting thing I have noticed about the new breed of twenty-something men, that is they are more than happy to move and live at home after university.

Now I am not one to judge, but doesn't that seem a little off? I can understand a quick lay-over, a stop in between university and real life, but when the lay-over becomes an extended vacation what does the twenty-something female do? It's one thing to have male-friends who are living at home after university, but it's another thing to date a guy who is living at home after university.

I had been seeing this 24 year old with a masters degree from an accredited university in Canada. He had recently moved back home because he felt that getting an apartment before getting a job was counterproductive, and I agreed. At first I didn't think it would affect me as much, but after a few months it started to when it was quite apparent that he was not interested in moving out. Granted I do have to admit living at home has its obvious benefits, but so does living on your own. I mean, it is one thing when you are 17 and dating, when it's ok to bring your date or your girlfriend/boyfriend back to your parents house when they aren't home or if they are home if you are feeling risky to sneak around and make out. But it's another thing when you're 24. As a 21 year old girl, it didn't feel right. So why does it feel right to a 24 year old guy?

I was recently speaking to a realtor who mentioned to me that more and more young, single twenty-something girls are buying their own place, sometimes with the help of their parents and sometimes as 'just me'. She has her degree, like the modern man, except she seems more interested in pursing her independent adult life by continuing to live on her own. It's as if the twenty-something girl is taking on the role formerly dominated by guys post-university; buying a house, a car, neither of which are or were her parents. Twenty-something guys, however, are taking on the role formerly dominated by girls post-university; being at home and relying on his parents before leaving when he is ready... Or when he is kicked out.

I think the problem lies with the fact that what men are looking for and what women are looking for has changed. The twenty-something female is looking for a partner, an equal. She isn't waiting for a man to enter her life for it to begin, so someone who is willing to fit into her already-established life. The twenty-something man, so it seems, is looking for his mother or at least someone kind of like his mother which explains why he is so content, even happy with moving back home at 23, 24, 25... And leaving... Well, when will he leave?

Modern Dating: Progression or Regression?

Modern Dating: Progression or Regression?

For a twenty-something girl, modern dating can be tricky. The rules have changed, the roles have shifted, and expectations have been altered to a point of absolute confusion. Where once the definition of dating was clear and precise now it is .. Well it's just shades of grey. The shift came along with the evolution of what some writers call the "Manolo Blahnik female". These women are sexy, sexual, powerful and confusing as hell to men and women alike. To women, she is what we're expected to be, our goal even: ambitious, self-reliant, independent, sexually confident and free and most importantly, aggressive with our careers, with our futures and with our men. She is the hunter instead of the hunted; the chase instead of the catch. Trust me, you see these women everywhere. She's the one at the bar in the stiletto heels, the lowcut shirt, the equally low riding jeans checking you out from across the room. If you're lucky she'll introduce herself, buy you a drink, take you home and maybe give you her number. To men... she is the answer to their prayers. She does all the work, puts in all the effort, and only expects him to play along and enjoy the ride.

But what about those of us who aren't "Manolo females"?

I was recently dating this one guy, we'll call him "Ken", and the most effort I got out of him were phone calls that eventually degenerated to sporadic text messages and a personal visit but only in private. I had finally convinced him to ask me for a proper date, however sometime during the week "Ken" fell sick but didn't find it necessary to inform me of this. I ended up inviting him for drinks at a local martini bar that was maybe eight blocks away from my apartment, but even that was too much to ask of the modern male. It's not that "Ken" as a modern male is scared so much as "Ken" and all other modern males are used to getting what they want and when they don't they put up a wall instead of putting up a bit of effort.

Now I am not saying that the "Manolo female" would not have been upset had she found herself in this situation. It does beg the question, by becoming the "Manolo female", did modern women give up the right to be treated like a lady? Have we gained so much power in the business and social world that we no longer expect a little common courtesy from the opposite sex?

The "Manolo female" is perpetually on top... in education, in fitness, in career, in sex... The "Manolo female" is doing all the work now and she doesn't even realize it. They are chasing men, paying their own way, and it seems as if modern men are simply laying back and enjoying the ride. And who can blame them? We have allowed men to relax and forget that the amount of effort, not the amount in his bank account, is what's appreciated. When everything is coming to the modern man, why would he feel the need to put in effort where none is required to get what he wants? So when faced with a situation with a woman who requires a bit of effort, the modern man doesn't know what to do. Scratch that. The modern man knows what to do; he simply feels that he doesn't have to because soon enough he'll meet another "Manolo female" who will put in all the effort for him and give him what he wants without him ever having to lift a finger. What women want has changed over the years along with the methods of getting what we want. But not men. Men still want what they've wanted before, and the "Manolo female" has made it easier on him.

So what about the rest of us? The so called "Manolo-lights" who, although independent, empowered, confident and sexy, are looking for men who will treat us like a lady? When I can't even get a modern man to drive the extra eight blocks to meet me for a drink I have to ask myself, has dating as we knew it gone the way of the dodo?