The "non" date

It is a well established fact that I do not know what a date is even when I am on one, but I am working on it. Last night I was out on what I think most would consider a date, but I am still a little skeptical. I will let you be the judge.

About two months ago I was out at the bar with Roomie, GB and about 40 people we knew have drinks at the bar, listening to music, you know the usual. Towards the end of the evening an acquaintance of mine stopped me to ask me if I knew about a show that was going to be in town in the New Year, was it good, should he go, blah, blah, blah. I work in the entertainment business (which is probably why he asked me if I knew about the show) and because of that I often get free tickets to different events: movie passes, play tickets, dance tickets, galleries events, etc. So I said to him that I had in fact seen the show last year, but that I would probably get an invite to the show again this year and if he wanted I would be happy to give him the other free ticket. He agreed and we left it at that for a long time.

Flash forward to the New Year. Mr. Acquaintance got my email from roomie and sent me a note making sure we were still on for the show. I assured him as soon as I knew about tickets he would be the first to know. So we emailed a few more times telling holiday stories and making a plan for the show. I am still a little unsure about whether this would be considered a date or not especially since the last two times I went to the theatre with a boy here and here they both thought it was a date … so I proceeded with caution.

On Monday I sent him email to make a plan to meet at the theatre. He didn’t respond all day but called me that night at home to say he would meet me at the house and we could walk to the theatre together, fine by me, but is it a date. I polled the roomie and GB and they agreed that it was not a date.

So last night, when he picked me up there was something in the air that lead me to believe he thought it was a date, so I began to think it might be a date. So we walked to the theatre together. We exchanged stories, found out we went to the same university at the same time (but in different programs), we both grew up in the same part of the country and share friends through roomie. We got to the theatre found some seats, made more small talk then watched the show. After the show he bought me a drink at the theatre and we sat with friends and talked about the show, the party from the weekend blah, blah, blah.

After one drink he asked me what I wanted to do, it was still early but I didn’t want to have another expensive drink at the theatre so he and I wandered off to my local pub. On the way I asked him to tell me a story he had alluded to at the party on Saturday but hadn’t told. We got to the pub, ordered our beer and he told me this great story about an ex girlfriend who had messed with his life. As I was listening started thinking, maybe it isn’t a date, do dates really tell sex stories to each other? Do they reveal that they have a group of friends they share their one night stand stories with, regularly? Not sure but whatever. We continued swapping stories and drinking our beer. Before long it was midnight and we decided it was time to head home. He walked me home and we said goodbye. We hugged and he gave me a kiss on the cheek and told me he had a good time and see ya around.

So at the end of it all, I think it would be classified as a date, and a good one at that. Will I see him again, probably only as a friend, but if this is what dating can be like, maybe 2007 is the year that this single girl starts dating …

TSG

Weekend Fun

Sorry about the lack of posting for the past few days. Work was really busy towards the end of the week and I was out most of the weekend. Here is a brief update on life.

Friday night a friend was in town so we went to one of my favorite bars and had martinis, dinner and great chats for about 3 hours. It was a bit expensive, but you only live once and how often does one really have an excuse to spend that much time in a martini bar?

Saturday I went to an all night party. It was fantastic. Two rooms with DJ’s and chill room with cushions and pillows to hang out on, there was even a massage table in the corner (but I never used it). Highlights from the party; well the music of course, getting a backstage tour of the venue and watching all the people dance from the booth, a couple that I know told me I should join them a threesome someday soon (I respectfully declined), I made out with a cute 25 year old boy and danced until 5 am.

I’m back baby!

Sunday I went to the pub for some brunch – as I just didn’t have the energy to cook anything – and ended up drinking for 4 hours with my friend S&T. Three pints and two vodkas later we wandered over to his house to watch a movie and drink some blueberry (read boozy) tea. Both of us ended up falling asleep in the first ten minutes of the movie, me on the couch and him on the floor. After the movie I cabbed it home ate a little food and went to bed at 9pm.

And order in the universe is restored.

xo

TSG

ps. I still have a few more stories from the past to dig out of the vault so be patient (if you were enjoying them) they will continue to pop up in the coming weeks.

The Dawson Creek Years

SnH complains that I don’t talk about her enough (read: at all on the site) and Stveryone else has a great nickname, why can’t she … well my friend I haven’t found the perfect nickname yet but this post is dedicated to you.

SnH and I met while living in residence in our first year of university. Her first memory of me is after arriving at a club the first week of school and one of the girls we were at the club with asked “what should we do” and my response was “I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna go get a beer.” That, she claims, was when she knew we should hang out. We had a lot in common; we were both small town girls who always wanted to live in the city, beer drinkers, smokers, a bit brash, and unwilling to put up with bullshit.

That first year we had a great routine Tuesday nights we (and our regular posse) went out to the pub for a few pints, Thursday nights we would get blind drunk and dance at the biggest dive on campus, Friday night we went to the clubs, or stayed in and experimented with “fun”things and Saturday night we took it easy going for one or two beers (read pitchers) or stayed in and watched movies. As parents always say … some of the pest years of our life … But this is not a story from our rez life, this is the story of how we tried to meet and ended up stalking Joshua Jackson.

It was the summer between second year and third year and I had come to the city for a visit. It was a hot day and SnH needed a break from her roommates, so she and I decided to have an afternoon pitcher of beer. It was a hot day in July and the beer was going down really smoothly so we ordered a second pitcher. I got up to go to the bathroom and I noticed two guys playing pool. Much to my shock one of the people playing was Joshua Jackson from Dawson’s Creek.

Dawson’s Creek had premiered that fall on the WB and SnH and I were obsessed with the show, I was a Dawson fan and she was a Pacey fan, so when I came back from the bathroom I could barely contain my excitement for her. I told her to go to the bathroom and check out the guys playing pool. She did and when she came back I thought she was going to jump out of her skin with glee.

For the duration of the second pitcher we tried to devised a plan to meet Mr. Jackson. We thought about trying to win the pool table, giving them the eye on the way to the washroom hoping he or his friend would take an interest in one of us or the most direct route - I would just walk up to him and tell him my friend likes him. We chickened out on all fronts but noticed as he left that he was headed for the hotel around the corner. With two pitchers of liquid courage flowing through our blood stream we paid our bill and headed towards the hotel.

Once at the hotel we called his room to let him know that we were on our way up to the bar on the top floor of the hotel. The operator connected us to his room and we proceeded to leave a message detailing our plan to have a drink at the hotel bar and we hoped we would see him there. Two fancy (and expensive) hotel cocktails later we were pretty sure he wasn’t going to show up so we decided we should leave and go to a local pub where they had some food (which we were in desperate need of) and cheaper drinks.

As we left the hotel we did think it was important to leave him one more message telling him that we were leaving and going to the local pub and should he get the message he really should join us because we are a lot of fun and this specific pub was a great place to go while you are in the city. I can’t remember if we had any more to drink that evening or if we ended up going home and passing out cold

For about two years after that incident I kept thinking I would hear Joshua Jaskson retell this story as the last time he checked into a hotel under his own name while on Leno or Letterman. I don’t think that ever happened, but I am pretty sure that he started checking into hotels under a pseudonym right after that stay.

The Single Girl

Kewl is so uncool

When did it become acceptable to write “kewl” as opposed to cool? I just had a sales rep email me and tell me that it was kewl to meet me earlier this week.

This is the second time I have received an email from someone referring to meeting me or spending time with me as kewl, and in both cases it has made the person sending me the note decidedly un"kewl."

I mean it would be one thing if it was sorting the phrase as the computer again has done with WTF, LOL and BTW, but cool and kewl take about the same amount of time to type.

So I ask you all WTF is with Kewl? Cool is already slang so do we really need to mess with it?

I think not.

TSG

15 Year Old Girl

I consider the summer before I turned 16 to be one of the most pivotal times in my life. I was finished my second year of high school and had a settled into a group of friends that I really clicked with ( including my best friend “Spike”) and my first really boyfriend “K”. I spent the summer with Spike and K and K’s best friend J (yes the same J that worries about me.) Spike was 15 the same as me and J and K were both 19.

K was a farm boy (no this is not the beginning of The Princess Bride), a good man with dark hair, blue eyes. A hard worker and sweet guy who was at times a bit goofy, but mostly I liked that. And J he was trouble, he had a mischievous smile and a twinkle in his eyes that told you, stick with me and you will have a good time. Together they were quite a team.

Spike was a force of nature, self assured and straight forward she carried herself with a poise and determination that was unknown to me at fifteen. She was sprite like, a petite girl with big brown eyes and a button nose; she had boys eating out of her hands most places she went. She was in charge of her life and I was glad I got to be there for the party.

The four of us had great times that summer, playing on the beach, drinking beer and hoping we didn’t get caught when we got home (or at least Spike and I did), driving around listening to music in J’s great car or K’s pick up, making out right up until the minute of my curfew, running the bases at a ball diamond at midnight because we thought it was funny … you know all the things you do when you are on the cusp of becoming an adult.

I can’t tell all the stories from the summer it would just take too long, and really it would probably be boring to everyone but me, but I think this one is worthy of a retelling.

My parents were away for a few days towards the end of June with my little brother and I was sent off to Spike’s house in the country as I was too young to stay home alone. There was a high school dance on the Friday – the last one of the year – and Spike and I convinced her dad to drop us off on my front porch, instead of at the dance, as we were going to meet up with friends and my porch was a good central location.

All the doors to the house had been locked when my parents left and I wasn’t given a key, so the day before I was sent off to Spike’s house I went into the basement and cracked open one of the basement windows just wide enough to get one finger in. Once Spike’s dad drove off we made our way to the back of the house, opened the window the rest of the way and made our way in through the basement to through a pre party for the dance. We opened the liquor cabinet (not that dangerous as my parents are beer drinkers and never know how much liquor they have) and poured drinks for ourselves to celebrate our victorious B&E.

It didn’t take long for people to show up, drinks in hand to have a few cocktails to celebrate the end of another school year. There were about 25 people in total standing around listening to music drinking Bacardi breezers and other terrible concoctions stolen from their parents, or bought by older brothers and sisters. After an hour or so we all decided to make our way to the dance. Spike and I got everyone out of the house, put back the less full vodka and rum bottles, locked all the doors, closed the basement window – I would hate to think there could have been intruders –and went off to the dance.

It was thrilling to be “bad” as we did it so rarely. It was also fun to know that we had committed “the perfect crime.” Neither set of parents knew our deception, we left no evidence and we managed to get a little drunk all of which gave us both a thrill. The dance was great. J, Spike and I danced to Brown Eyed Girl, K and I slow danced for the very first time and at the end of the night Spike and I replayed our whole night as we drifted off to sleep.

My parents never found out (Hi Lady!) but I know that by the time we hit university Spike and I confessed our sins– as we always did – with little to no consequences. Just a laugh and a roll of the eyes was all we usually got, especially when we confessed two or three years after the fact.

It is a very innocent beginning to Keeping the Dream Alive but we all have to start somewhere.

Forever 15,

The Single Girl

It’s Okay (this is for J who worries about me)

I am for the most part a happy go lucky person. I don’t get sad too often, I am very social and I can usually find the bright side to a situation. All that being said, sometimes it is okay, even healthy, for all of us to be sad and last week I most definitely was sad.

I have lots of outlets for all 32 flavours of my emotions. The blog has proven to be a great place to air my grievances, triumphs and silly thoughts. I also have a great family and we are always there for each other. And last but not least I have my friends, who are amazing. All I have to do is ask for five minutes to talk through a problem or share a story and they give me an hour and a hug or a kick in the ass if I need it and the promise of more time when I need it. Thanks to all of you who read the blog and support me through it all. This single girl could not do it with out you. This is the last of the maudlin posts for a while, but I thought I would be remiss if I didn’t say thanks to all my peeps, supporters and anonymous readers.

Now back to what this blog is dedicated to … keeping the dream alive. After writing my post yesterday about my hotmail romance (oh crap .. that is much better title) I have decided I am going to dig into the vault and bring you some old stories about keeping the dream alive, until life gets interesting again(which should be Saturday!) So enjoy taking a sneak peak into some of the highlights (and low lights) of my life before the blog because it was interesting too. It all starts tomorrow.

Love and Respect,

The Single Girl

My Online Romance

I was looking at my junk email account today, we all have them, a hotmail or yahoo account that we use for contests and other places that want an email address to register for the next big thing. Scrolling down the junk I came across an actual email from an old friend was reminded why I got that address in the first place and I thought I would share the story on this very quiet Sunday.

Towards the end of my last real “relationship” things were not going that well between my boyfriend and me. We were not communicating well or spending much time together as he was working a lot of nights and I was busy with my job during the day and often early evenings. I was often feeling lonely and as though I was of the lowest importance in his life. When we were together we were silent, drunk or talking about work. I think we both knew things weren’t working but neither one of us was saying much of anything on the topic of our relationship.

My company had recently purchased a laptop for me and I was enjoying the freedom of work (read playing on the internet) from home. My favorite thing to do on any given night was to log on to yahoo and play cards on line. My game of choice was cribbage and I enjoyed the playing but sometimes I find myself stuck in a game with a weird who wanted to talk sex and not playing cards at all so I began to pay attention to who I was playing with and steered clear of the nasty folks when ever possible. I came across a player who called himself Vtec. He was a good player, competitive like me and fun to chat with.

He was American currently living in the south and missing his old life on the east coast. He owned a large home that he couldn’t afford, had a girlfriend, a dog, bunch of cats and a computer gaming habit. He was safe and fun and I enjoyed his “company.” Before long he and I were playing cards two or three nights a week for at least an hour. After a few weeks we realized that some nights we were playing one game for more than an hour because we were chatting so much.

One night he asked me if I had an MSN account and I said no – I had never found a reason to have one before – but I was sure I could set one up. He said it just seemed silly to be in a game site and not playing cards at all. He had a point. So I went online and got myself a hotmail address and set myself up on messenger. We still played cards some nights but now we were swapping photos and songs and sharing thoughts about our young adult lives. I remember the night before my birthday that year I was sitting out on my porch enjoying a beer and a cigarette while chatting and at midnight he was the first person to wish me a happy birthday.

Not long after my birthday my boyfriend and I finally broke off our unhappy, unhealthy and unfulfilling relationship. “V” as I had come to call him, was really a really great friend as I dealt with being alone again. We would play cards, swap sappy music, talk about what an asshole my ex was, make each other laugh and talk about what we wanted out of our lives. About a month after the break up I was offered a great job on the other side of the country. I left my apartment, family, friends and comfort zone to follow my career.

After I moved I no longer had a laptop, or a computer of any kind at home so “V” and I began to drift. We sent an email here and there but before long the messages stopped and we went our separate ways, sadly neither one of us said goodbye. He was in a way an online boyfriend when I needed to feel attractive and fun again. I remember him fondly and hope that at the time I thanked him for being a distraction and friend.

As I sit here looking at my hotmail account I wonder how he is, if he still plays cribbage and if he remembers me as fondly as I remember him.

The Single Girl

A Little Teary

All I want this weekend is someone to cuddle up in my bed and hide out with me. Spooning, watching movies, drinking tea and doing the crossword. I think it is being sick that has led me to this slightly sucky state of being. This is one of those weeks when I don’t want to be single. I want someone to rub my back, make tea and just spend quiet time with me. Then again, if I wasn’t single and feeling like this, I would want to be single and hide out by myself rather than try to explain my mood to another person who has needs and feelings of their own. And really, who has the time to actually spend an entire weekend hibernating and doing crosswords. Ah, the complexities of the mind …

I rarely cry. It’s true ask any of my friends – The lady even calls me hard heated Hannah because I rarely cry at sad films. But this week I feel a little weak. It could be my feeling ill, or the family stuff, or the end of my non relationship, or the Grey’s Anatomy episode I watched last night, or the January/February blues … or all of the above. I think all of the above is the answer. It was kind of scary when I almost cried in a staff meeting today over what outwardly seemed like nothing to get that upset about. I didn’t ultimately breakdown (thank God!) but it has led to my decision to treat myself to a sad movie at home tonight so I can get it out of my system and get on with my life – i.e. go for beer and pizza on Saturday and stop feeling sorry for myself.

I know there is a bunch of blah feelings going around as I hear it from friends, read it on blogs and see it in the faces of people on the street. It is strangely comforting knowing that people know how you feel and/or feel similar. It gives me a sense of kinship as we all claw our way through the beginning of 2007. I think (and maybe I am optimistic) it will get better once the sun is out for more than 2 hours a day and the slush is gone and there are flowers and bright colours on the streets.

Keeping my fingers crossed for a good weekend, or at least a good Saturday crossword.

The Single Girl

Pseudonyms

I have decided that I should see a counselor to help me to deal with some current stuff happening in the family. I think therapy and counseling are a very health and proactive way to deal with ones mental health. Just as we all go for physicals, check ups and different appointments to keep our body in tune there are times and reasons to talk to someone to make sure the mind is in tune. (End of public service announcement and my validating seeing a counselor).

So I called a reputable counseling service and got their machine for new referrals. The message tells you to leave your name and a number you can be reached at and for confidentiality reasons when they return your call you will just be told that “Alex” called unless you give express permission to use the services name. In theory this is a great idea but for me I would get a message that Alex called, and be like … who the hell is Alex? And never return the call.

Then I thought to myself I wonder if escort services ever do anything like this. Can you imagine the message:

“Um hi this is Bob the plumber calling. You called about your pipes … I wanted to let you know that I am available to umm … come and clean your pipes on Friday. Please call me back so we can um … get those pipes cleaned.”

These are the sorts of thoughts that fill my head during the day.

Yours,

The slightly warped Single Girl

Morning Music

So on my way to the gym this morning it hit shuffle on yea old ipod and had a great four song mix right off the bat. In order it was; Crush by The Dave Matthew’s Band, Lover I Don’t Have To Love by Bright Eyes, Where Does the Good Go by Tegan and Sara and Babylon by David Gray. It was the perfect mix of boppiness and sadness that makes me smile. It was as though my ipod could sense my mood this morning as I left the house and played songs accordingly. A good start to the day makes all the difference. That being said I am still sitting here with another hour to put in at work wondering how I am going to get through it without sleeping, drooling or just surfing the net for an hour.

TSG

Blah

So there I was sitting at my desk, in my personal productivity pod (yep, that is what they call a cubicle at my work) thinking about all the things I need to get done. Funnily enough most of the things I am thinking about have nothing to do with the giant piles of paper on my desk. I kept thinking about things like the doing laundry, calling friends, drinking tea, reading blogs … you know the important stuff.

I still am not in a bloggy kind of place, which apparently isn’t a problem since almost no one is visiting my site this month. Even so, I want to figure out why I find myself in such a writing funk so often this January. Partly it could be I have no new good stories to share, truly I think we all could agree that I have been pretty boring since the holidays (I wouldn’t read me either right now). It could also in part be my New Year’s resolution to restrain myself from casual relations and relationship, or the fact that it is the busy season at work and I just don’t feel like going out much in the evenings or that I have just come down with a case of the February blahs a month early (it could happen). The strange thing is I keep having inspiration to write essay style blogs on different topics at times when I don’t have a pen or paper and then minutes later the topic is gone.

So please be patient, I will write funny, musing or meaningful things and/or be interesting really soon.

The Single Girl

Dating

Now this is probably going to come as a shock to all of you, but I am bad at dating. I am not any worse than any other person (in my humble opinion) at being in an actual relationship, but I suck at the early stages, the dating - getting to know you, the coffees, the dinners, etc. And I am a complete moron on a first date as chronicled here.

It came to my attention last night while out on a “date” that I don’t know what a date really is. I was out with Fireboy a man I would consider a former lover and current friend. We went for a drink, to a show and then for coffee afterwards. While having drinks he told me that he had said to a friend of his that he had a date tonight. “Really, this is a date to you? I don’t think of this as a date.” (How to make a man secure and wanted … I know) Luckily we have known Fireboy for a while so he took no offense but looked at me as though I was silly to think it couldn’t be a date.

So I told him my bad first date story from above, some of my evenings with Awesome, and how I think I might be going on another unintentional date at the end of the month. It was right about then realized that I am going on dates but for some strange reason I am in denial about this fact. It would also appear that, more often than not, I am the instigator of said dates as I keep asking men to come to the theatre with me all the time.

When I think about it now it really doesn’t get more datey (it could be a word) than drinks, a show and coffee. The only way it could have been more of a date was if we had dinner before the show and a good night kiss. Okay, there was a good night kiss at the end of the night so I guess I have to resign myself to the fact that I have officially had my first date of 2007. Well, pseudo date if you ask me, because really, we are now just friends, there wasn’t any tongue in the kiss and we talked about other people that we are dating or have recently dated so that couldn’t be a date …

Hello my name is The Single Girl and I have a problem … I can’t admit that I date.

The Single Girl

Ps. While on the pseudo date, I made a new year’s resolution, to try not engage in casual relations and relationships for the year of 2007. If I am going to make that work I am going to have to start doing the dating thing. Wish me luck ... I am going to need it.

Fun facts and Random Musings

• Having a gay boyfriend is great but one must always remember that you are in a poly-non-amorous relationship and you can not keep him all to yourself. Other women may have him as their boyfriend and most certainly other men will. That does not make it any less healthy and wonderful. I currently have a primary gay boyfriend (GB), a secondary gay boyfriend (OQB) and various auxiliary gay boyfriends and all of them are able to co exist. I tell you this because a dear friend of mine tried to tell me to keep my hands off her new gay boyfriend and I had to explain this concept to her and remind her that she spends lots of time with GB so back off! Just kidding once she thought about it she totally agreed that polyamory is the only way to go.

• I like moving. Well let me re-phrase I love looking at homes and apartments and I like packing cube vans. I will pack boxes full of shit (because it all becomes shit when you are moving), I don’t like unpacking trucks and I hate actually moving. So if you are looking for someone to help you move, I will happily come to your house and help you get everything out of your current residence and into the moving van – with teteris skill that would astound the biggest geek – but then I must leave. Thank you CMG for understanding that and properly utilizing my skills

• Actually overheard at the pub GB and I were at on Sunday night …
  
  Young woman to her emo boyfriend after some snuggling, kissing and shared nachos
  
  “I will be right back I just have to wash out my underwear”
  
  Cue beer coming out my nose as I wonder to myself was it the making out, or an unfortunate incident brought on by the nachos that brought about that statement?

• I am getting on a plane in less than 24 hours. I get to fly to the “big city” spend 3 nights in a hotel, see two shows, have coffee with friends and colleagues and go to one 5 hour meeting. Because of the one 5 hour meeting, my flight and hotel are being covered by work. I love my job.

• Reading old blog entries from your new favourite bloggers can completely take over your days. I have been reading The Daily Dump for a few weeks now and I have less than two months before the whole thing is finally over. I am feeling bitter sweet about the whole thing. Please no one send me a new blog until March as work is really busy until then and I will barely be able to keep up with the 10 blogs I read daily now.

• Overheard at my office 15 minutes ago
  
  Co worker walks up to my desk with a slightly confused look on his face
  
  CW: So …? 23, 19 ½, 20 ½ ...
  
  TSG: What? Are you trying to ask me something … telling me something … bugging me in a cryptic kind of way
  
  CW: Yeah, which one of those is the median age of your last few “boyfriends”? Wry smile from the co-worker
  
  TSG: Wry smile from me None of the above. Seriously what do those numbers mean?
  
  Actual work related conversation ensues
  
  Hmmm … I might share too much at work
  

Musingly yours,

The Single Girl

Biological Destiny

I have had a very busy weekend. There was a festival and conference in town that I participated in all weekend. I don’t know if you get to go to many conferences or what they are like when you do but for me going to a festival and conference means that I was spending my days in workshops and panel discussions, my early evening at concerts and arts events and my nights at the bar. Needless to say I a pretty tired this morning. It wasn’t a terribly interesting conference but it was great to see friends from across the country and get caught up on the good gossip and the holiday stories everyone had to tell. The most interesting evening – and by interesting I mean horrifying – I had was on Saturday night at the bar.

I was sitting at a table with various people from across the country and chatting with my fabulous – and by fabulous I mean gay - producer friend who I only get to see a few times a year. We were talking about life, work, sex and children. Yes Children. Both of us over the last year have been approached by friends who have asked us if we would consider having children with them. He told me that he said no to his friend and had lots of concerns about having children and a career and the relationship with this person wasn’t one that he ultimately believed would be healthy for having a baby.

I said that I had and still am considering it, but that I too have many concerns and reservations about having a child with someone I am not romantically involved with. I had seen my brother and sister in law work very hard every day they were home for the holidays to keep up with my amazing and wonderful nephew and thought at the time I can’t even doing this without someone else to help. My fear I explained was that I did not want to end up in a situation where I was a single parent because I know how hard that life can be (as I have single mother friends) and that I didn’t want to go down that path and at the end of the day be the one “holding the bag”. From the other end of the table this man I had met earlier in the week pipes up and says “Oh no. Having children is a wonderful thing and what you will realize is that that bag that you are holding is actually a baby.”

Duh!?!?! It was a metaphor you idiot. I didn’t say that, instead I tried to explain to him calmly and rationally that I wasn’t saying that I didn’t want children I was just saying that I didn’t want to be a single parent as I worried that neither the child or I would get everything out the experience we wanted because I would feel pulled in too many directions and feared resenting the child or my work. Good stuff I thought, honest, thoughtful … but no he came back at me by telling me that I would be a great mother. That he has seen so many women just change and become mommies instantly and that having children is ultimately why we are all here on the earth. It is our “biological destiny” to have children.

My jaw actually dropped. Biological Destiny … do people really still talk like that? I had nothing to say. Well that’s not true I had a bubbling rage inside of me but as the Lady said to me one must pick their battles and defending my destiny on a Saturday night to this man was not a hill I wanted to die on. Luckily the rest of the table had to go to another event – and by event I mean party in a hotel room – so I was able to excuse myself before I either punched or throttled the man.

As an epilogue to the story we left the bar I commented to my friends just how infuriating that was and how offensive I found the whole exchange to be. I mean Biological Destiny what kind of old school conservative bullshit is that? My good friend from work agreed and let me know that she too was offended and shocked by the whole exchange. Then the other woman that was with us – a very liberal and thoughtful woman from what I have seen in the past - actually said “Yeah that is pretty bad to say but he is such a nice man …” That was when my head actually exploded.

The not so destine Single Girl

Home for the Holidays (part 3) – Or Overheard at My House on Christmas Night

Okay I know I said I was going to write the funny things said by my family but I am bored with that idea and worry that the bad grammar and miss pronounced words and phrases uttered by my French Canadian Sister in Law are only funny to me and my family. In any case I still have one final story from the holidays so here you go.

As we all had the Norwalk virus on Christmas Eve we had to cancel our usual evening of drinking and partying with family friends. Along with the drinking … and the partying we normally have a gift exchange. One of those games where you can either open a gift or steal one of the gifts that is already open. You have all had to do that at a Holiday party or family gathering … right? If not you get the basic premise. Sadly as we did not do an exchange so no one got a present.

This upset my Aunt greatly as she had bought what she thought was an amazing gift for the exchange. So Christmas night most of the family was feeling well enough to lie on the floor in the living room so we could at least pretend that we had managed a visit with each other and celebrate Christmas. At some point my Aunt brought down her gift for the exchange and told us someone should really open the gift she had purchased for the party the night before. I love opening presents so I agreed to open it and had the following conversation while holding the mystery gift.

Aunt: Do you know what it is?

TSG: Is it a sweater clip? It looks kind of like a sweater clip …

Aunt (with a bit of a giggle): No, guess again.

TSG: OMG is it roach clips?
(my aunt has been known to have hoot or two after dinner so it is not such a strange guess for me to make.)

Aunt: No (glaring at me as if to say please don’t refer to my dope habit in front of my mother). Guess again

TSG: I have no idea …

Aunt (looking in the direction of my 85 year old grandmother): Ask your Nana?

TSG: Nana do you know what this is?

Nana: They look like nipple clips to me dear…


And they were in fact a set of nipple clips. Now tell me does your Nana know a set of nipple clips when she sees them … I didn’t think so.

I promise I will get a photo of the clips and post them for you all very soon.

The Single Girl

Home for the Holidays (part II) or Norwalk-a-thon

No more than 24 hours after I posted home for the holidays part one I came down with the flu – which I am assuming was the Norwalk Virus because it apparently was going around town.

Early on Christmas Eve I woke up at around 3am and started puking my guts out. I came downstairs, not wanting to wake or worry the family to find my brother on the comfy couch, so I took my place on love seat and hoped the nausea would pass. It didn’t and I ran to the bathroom and began one of the worst days of my life. As I was lying on the bathroom floor, I worried about waking my poor sleeping brother – who I assumed had been kicked out of bed by his 18 month old son. Not to worry, he was up before and enjoying the same ritual I was over at the kitchen sink.

The only thing worse than throwing up on Christmas Eve is listening to your brother throw up on Christmas Eve as well. At first I felt bad worrying that he was sick because he heard me get sick but it turns out he started throwing up a good 2 hours before me. At first no one was afraid of us they all assumed that we had drunk too much home made wine and were being appropriately punished. Nope, it was Norwalk and they got theirs for accusing both of us of being unable to hold our liquor.

It got pretty bad. First Lu, then me, then The Lady, then the baby, then my Sister in Law, and finally Nana all were crushed by the Norwalk. Some how my father managed to not get the flu, but then again he had the flu shot so he deserves not to have the flu. The saddest part is that we didn’t open presents until almost 4pm on Christmas Day because no one could muster the energy to get out of bed. My dad pointed out as we were opening gifts that we once opened presents at 4 one other time … but it was 4am not 4pm.

On Christmas morning I was wrapping gifts for Lu and we had the following exchange:

Lu: Thanks for wrapping my presents.

TSG: No problem, but the hair straightener is going in a bag, I don’t have the energy to figure out how to wrap that.

Lu: Done. Have you ever, in all your 30 years, been less excited about Christmas?

TSG: No, never. You?

Lu: No. This sucks. Lu groans and lies down on the floor having used all his energy for that one brief exchange.

(From down the hall The lady sheds a tear listening to our pathetic Christmas dialogue but can not move for fear of expelling toxins for the 23rd time in twelve hours.)

Good Times, great memories.


Tomorrow the final installment of home for the holidays where we review some of the best quotes from my family.

TSG

Happy New Year

I know I owe my faithful readers a home for the holidays part deux but I was sick and then I have been spending my time reading blogs and hoping for writing inspiration ...

I promise I will be inspired soon.

In any case HAPPY NEW YEAR and all the best in 2007.

My love and best wishes.

The Single Girl