Today was the kind of day where it was too hot to breathe. The air was heavy, the breeze was thick. Despite my best efforts to spend the day melting away by the pool, I was interrupted by a ring at the door. My knight and shining whatever appears out of thick air and asks if I want to run some errands with him for his big trip across the Atlantic.
This little escapade screams boyfriend to me. We went to pick up his tux for his brothers wedding. He looked beyond handsome. We went to Winners to buy clothes, we went to Chapters, he bought me bubble tea. We were closer I think then we've ever been, sharing our day so easily and when he said "lets go home" I could almost picture what that would be. And yet, in a few days we'll have an ocean between us.
What is it with the damn Atlantic. Everytime I start to fall for a boy, that salt water gets in the way. My Italian, my London boy, and now my knight in shining whatever... the same theme, boy and girl skirt the issue of a relationship, boy plans trip to Europe, boy is wonderful to girl, girl helps boy get ready, boy flies away, girl watches his airplane while tanning in this thick heat. Girl struggles to breathe.
Thursday
Tuesday
Afternoon delight
In my new little dress, I found myself frolicking arm-in-arm with my knight in shining whatever through the sidewalks of Yorkville this afternoon. Okay, so maybe arm-in-arm is a bit of an exaggeration. That kind of sweetness is overwhelming anyway. What I mean to say is that this afternoon my high school ex boyfriend and I went to the movies together.
It was a lovely sunshiny day and thankfully there have been many since winter parted, particularly as his trip to Europe becomes more imminent. Regardless, I was just happy to be in his presence at a foreign and romantic film, about Paris! Yes, I do love Paris. His cheeky attention and playful enthusiasm made me enjoy the witty banter I became enthralled in as we traversed from Bloor back to our suburban oasis.
To an outsider we might have looked like friends, on the subway we might have seemed to look like we were having a fight (no, three pairs of jeans are too many for a two week trip to Europe, two max, etc etc) but between the banter were laughs, looks of contentment and more significantly of understanding. I found myself here, there and everywhere but always, eternally and comfortably me.
Besides, those sweet couples in the subway always leave a sour taste in my mouth, as if that kind of affection overload can be sickening. I'll admit that the highlight of my day was when he turned to me and said he had a great day, he got to see a movie with the most beautiful girl in Toronto. I might have gotten a tad bit melty, for just for a moment and then mid-blush I rolled my eyes.
If you passed us you might have written us off quickly as a nothing pairing, but one of the old ladies in the theatre gave me a somewhat knowing look and I'm going to take this meaningless sign that something has changed between us. I'm finally on the radar, he finally makes plans with me, asks me how my day has been, threatens to beat up my stalker, he even offered to bring me dinner the other night. He's earning his knight in shining whatever title and I'm soaking in these sunshiny rays.
After-all, in less than a week he'll be in another continent and the story of my life will have just a tad more continuity. Until then I can only cross my fingers in hopes of more of these delightful days filled with unexpected attention. Maybe when he returns he'll really be mine. Maybe.
It was a lovely sunshiny day and thankfully there have been many since winter parted, particularly as his trip to Europe becomes more imminent. Regardless, I was just happy to be in his presence at a foreign and romantic film, about Paris! Yes, I do love Paris. His cheeky attention and playful enthusiasm made me enjoy the witty banter I became enthralled in as we traversed from Bloor back to our suburban oasis.
To an outsider we might have looked like friends, on the subway we might have seemed to look like we were having a fight (no, three pairs of jeans are too many for a two week trip to Europe, two max, etc etc) but between the banter were laughs, looks of contentment and more significantly of understanding. I found myself here, there and everywhere but always, eternally and comfortably me.
Besides, those sweet couples in the subway always leave a sour taste in my mouth, as if that kind of affection overload can be sickening. I'll admit that the highlight of my day was when he turned to me and said he had a great day, he got to see a movie with the most beautiful girl in Toronto. I might have gotten a tad bit melty, for just for a moment and then mid-blush I rolled my eyes.
If you passed us you might have written us off quickly as a nothing pairing, but one of the old ladies in the theatre gave me a somewhat knowing look and I'm going to take this meaningless sign that something has changed between us. I'm finally on the radar, he finally makes plans with me, asks me how my day has been, threatens to beat up my stalker, he even offered to bring me dinner the other night. He's earning his knight in shining whatever title and I'm soaking in these sunshiny rays.
After-all, in less than a week he'll be in another continent and the story of my life will have just a tad more continuity. Until then I can only cross my fingers in hopes of more of these delightful days filled with unexpected attention. Maybe when he returns he'll really be mine. Maybe.
Saturday
What is a relationship?
The question "what is a relationship?" rivals the timeless of question of "what came first the chicken or the egg?" We've all found ourselves asking this question at one time or another. We wonder whether we are in one. Whether we want to be in one. Whether our partner would fit into one. And what it means to have one.
Here's what I don't think a relationship is: I don't think a relationship blossoms out of one date, followed by one way non-stop phone calls (ten in one day), calling their place of work to figure out their work schedule, leaving three messages on facebook and five voicemails in a twenty-four hour period.
What I would call that: stalking.
A few weeks later when the calls persist and my friends decide to intervene with advice, it becomes apparent that I have no choice but to make contact to end it. After a long, tedious conversation I finally make it clear that it's over - I clearly lack the will and desire to give him the attention he needs. His parting advice: "Maybe you don't know what's going to happen in the future, but I think I do." - Hmmm. But that wasn't the most puzzling thing he said.
Apparently, "you don't need to talk to be in a relationship." WHAT? I missed that memo.
Luckily, I was grounded in reality by a message from my knight in shining whatever. He said he'll miss me while he's away tomorrow. And even though we aren't in a relationship, we are on the same page. I'll miss him too.
Here's what I don't think a relationship is: I don't think a relationship blossoms out of one date, followed by one way non-stop phone calls (ten in one day), calling their place of work to figure out their work schedule, leaving three messages on facebook and five voicemails in a twenty-four hour period.
What I would call that: stalking.
A few weeks later when the calls persist and my friends decide to intervene with advice, it becomes apparent that I have no choice but to make contact to end it. After a long, tedious conversation I finally make it clear that it's over - I clearly lack the will and desire to give him the attention he needs. His parting advice: "Maybe you don't know what's going to happen in the future, but I think I do." - Hmmm. But that wasn't the most puzzling thing he said.
Apparently, "you don't need to talk to be in a relationship." WHAT? I missed that memo.
Luckily, I was grounded in reality by a message from my knight in shining whatever. He said he'll miss me while he's away tomorrow. And even though we aren't in a relationship, we are on the same page. I'll miss him too.
Tuesday
Pitter patter goes my heart
And so despite all my careful words, despite all my supposed armor - my "knight-in-shining whatever-turned-demon" is back in my life, this time as a seemingly humble prince. I know what your thinking, I'm going to get hurt. That may be true. At least that's what my head keeps saying. However, whenever he's in my presence, my head is decidedly absent and instead all my decisions are motivated by my fumbling little heart. Why would I weaken myself to his whims, yet again? Let us begin...
I thought I had cut him out of my life. I thought I could be strong and say no forever. Until he came into my work. His useless meanderings were sad, but I knew deep down that he was trying. I know that means very little, especially considering everything he put me through. Still in his eyes were a deep regret that was reaching out to me asking Norah's relentless question, "it's not too late"? All these things aside, in that moment, the moment when he appeared at my work and thus reappeared in my life, I was made more upset, irrated even, at the sudden and public nature of it.
The following day he askes why I won't be attending an event he's hosting. "I can't" I say, "We are no longer friends." His surprise at something I considered so obvious didn't take me aback. We've had these kinds of misunderstandings before. But honestly, I think it's partially my fault for not airing my grivances. A brief yet painful conversation ensues. He calls. "Can I see you?"
Days go by, and I try not to think about him at all, which is really a futile exercise since I've become utterly consumed by both the furry of our argument and my tempering passion for him. He calls and says he wants to put things right. I consider his offer and in the spirit of forgiveness I open up my mind and my schedule.
For a while it's like everything is fine, except that there is this giant awkward space between us. A wall even where no one dares traverse. It is filled with awkward phrases like "sorry" "didn't mean to" when that space is broken. It's painful to be in this thick dense space.
And then an honest apology spills from his lips. His eyes cloud over with sadness as he says, "I wish you didn't hate me." I feel hazy, weak, as I look into his heavy hazel eyes I know he's being sincer. This time I'm not projecting my feelings onto him. This time he means it. I open my arms and I accept his apology and him back into my life.
Where am I now? Closer than I thought I would be to something real, but I'm still unable to let go of my other suitors because of the fear of admitting what that would make him mean to me. And potentially facing a fear, that he means more to me than I mean to him. And yet, I don't know that. Things have been going very well lately.
Perhaps its's a very poor decision to entrust my body, my heart, my mind to him again. But don't butterflies mean anything? Doesn't the feeling of wholeness when I sink into his arms count for something? I find that I'm lost in moments with him. For all those reasons and so many more, it's wonderful to be around him again.
And so while everyone gets all in a huff over this and the many other poor decisions I've been making these days, let me just say I'm following my own rhythm - mine just happens to be the pitter patter of my heart.
I thought I had cut him out of my life. I thought I could be strong and say no forever. Until he came into my work. His useless meanderings were sad, but I knew deep down that he was trying. I know that means very little, especially considering everything he put me through. Still in his eyes were a deep regret that was reaching out to me asking Norah's relentless question, "it's not too late"? All these things aside, in that moment, the moment when he appeared at my work and thus reappeared in my life, I was made more upset, irrated even, at the sudden and public nature of it.
The following day he askes why I won't be attending an event he's hosting. "I can't" I say, "We are no longer friends." His surprise at something I considered so obvious didn't take me aback. We've had these kinds of misunderstandings before. But honestly, I think it's partially my fault for not airing my grivances. A brief yet painful conversation ensues. He calls. "Can I see you?"
Days go by, and I try not to think about him at all, which is really a futile exercise since I've become utterly consumed by both the furry of our argument and my tempering passion for him. He calls and says he wants to put things right. I consider his offer and in the spirit of forgiveness I open up my mind and my schedule.
For a while it's like everything is fine, except that there is this giant awkward space between us. A wall even where no one dares traverse. It is filled with awkward phrases like "sorry" "didn't mean to" when that space is broken. It's painful to be in this thick dense space.
And then an honest apology spills from his lips. His eyes cloud over with sadness as he says, "I wish you didn't hate me." I feel hazy, weak, as I look into his heavy hazel eyes I know he's being sincer. This time I'm not projecting my feelings onto him. This time he means it. I open my arms and I accept his apology and him back into my life.
Where am I now? Closer than I thought I would be to something real, but I'm still unable to let go of my other suitors because of the fear of admitting what that would make him mean to me. And potentially facing a fear, that he means more to me than I mean to him. And yet, I don't know that. Things have been going very well lately.
Perhaps its's a very poor decision to entrust my body, my heart, my mind to him again. But don't butterflies mean anything? Doesn't the feeling of wholeness when I sink into his arms count for something? I find that I'm lost in moments with him. For all those reasons and so many more, it's wonderful to be around him again.
And so while everyone gets all in a huff over this and the many other poor decisions I've been making these days, let me just say I'm following my own rhythm - mine just happens to be the pitter patter of my heart.
Wednesday
Sinking in the perilous seas of dating
The title of this post is a bit deceiving, the entire weekend wasn't perilous but overall I got the feeling that I was slowing sinking in a ship I had built myself. Which in case (like myself) you've never been in that situation, I imagine to be quite unpleasant. Let me explain what I mean by that and why it's time to bail out the boat and patch it up, jump and swim the raging ocean, or like a good captain go down with the ship.
Friday. I had a perfectly lovely date with my IT guy. Let's call that date 2.0. It was perfect. He continued his gentlemanly behaviour by opening any and all doors in my path and conceding to my every whim and desire. And I re-payed him by cheekily almost beating him in air hockey. The venue, a kind of Chucky Cheese for adults, the overall atmosphere of the date: fun; really fun. Despite our inability to conquer the Jurassic Park game and my inability to shoot hoops (It was a shot in hell, I know) we ended up laughing quite a bit and enjoying each others company. The night ended with the same continuity as the first, with a perfectly sweet kiss at my front door. The thing about this suitor is that he is always leaving me wanting more, to kiss a little longer, to have an arm wrapped around me, less sweet more sultry. But that said, I know if he actually lingered longer at my front door, or knit his hand in mine as we walked to the car I'd feel crowded. How contrary I am!
Saturday rolls around and despite another potential set up, I'm exhausted and cancel. Adding another man to the mix might mix me up to the point of nausea, plus I was mid-contrary-awareness after date 2.0. So I put on my finest and head to work. Mid-afternoon, my confession-inclined, unstable ex appears. He says I don't look happy to see him (I'm not). He's disheveled and his eyes are almost yellow and as uneasy as it makes me I can't help but look into them for a thread of sincerity. He says he misses me, he says he needs me and he knows I still need him. Then he grapples for anything that could bind us together. "What's wrong?" he says. "You look sad," he notes (and I am). I'm sad because it is too late, because when I look into his hazel eyes I no longer melt, I'm no longer weak at the way he looks at me and his desperation and his timing sadden me. As I look into his eyes, I see that in my heart there is nothing there for him. It's clear and it hurts because I want to want him. But I'm done with his uncertainy. I'm done chasing someone who wants me one day but not the next. He leaves the store shaking his head.
Sunday night I have a date with chatty bachelor. I'm not sure if its the barrage of phone calls and messages, or my prevailing mood from the day before, or my comparison to date 2.0 or the date itself, but I really wasn't there. By that I mean, I was there with a slight sniffle but as harsh as it sounds, I think my date was on this date by himself. It feels wrong to say this because I know he put so much thought into planning this date, but he had clear ideas about what would happen. For example, when it came time to order the wine, he asked my opinion for which I suggested a modest but wonderful, red (Beaujolais), he rebuffed with Pinot Noir and despite my lack of persistence, we almost got into a fight over the wine choice. At one point, he told me I was "pulling the France card" which I'm not sure what that means, but I assume it means I was talking about France, which one would do if they were asked about their travels to Europe.
There were points in this date where I found myself biting my tongue (which wasn't nearly as tasty as the chocolate mouse he insisted we order despite the fact that I was too stuffed to finish half my meal). Why would I of all people nibble on my tongue, that doesn't sound like me? Well for two reasons, I suspect. First, it was hard to get a word in, edge wise. The rustic voice and elaborate stories that enchanted me into agree to this date entrapped me within it. Second, I became acutely aware of my experience, my education, my background and not wanting to put on a holier-than-thou performance decided to say mum.
There were parts of this date that were quite lovely, if they hadn't been cast over by a feeling of discomfort. Our walk down Yonge Street would have been romantic if I hadn't been shivering along unnoticed. Our talk in the park would have been romantic if it hadn't been slightly spitting rain. Our conversation would have been engaging if I didn't feel like I was trying to convinced that I like many things that I clearly don't. Some examples: wine from California, camping, sitting on a park bench while it almost rains. I feel terribly now because despite how he tried to convince me to catch on to how romantic the evening was, despite all his good intentions and a poem about a first kiss, all I caught from the night was a death of a cold.
And so with a cloudy head cold, I find myself on a ship I built that is slowly sinking. Do I bail out the water and patch it up? Do I forgo everything and jump? Or like a good captain, do I go down with the ship?
Friday. I had a perfectly lovely date with my IT guy. Let's call that date 2.0. It was perfect. He continued his gentlemanly behaviour by opening any and all doors in my path and conceding to my every whim and desire. And I re-payed him by cheekily almost beating him in air hockey. The venue, a kind of Chucky Cheese for adults, the overall atmosphere of the date: fun; really fun. Despite our inability to conquer the Jurassic Park game and my inability to shoot hoops (It was a shot in hell, I know) we ended up laughing quite a bit and enjoying each others company. The night ended with the same continuity as the first, with a perfectly sweet kiss at my front door. The thing about this suitor is that he is always leaving me wanting more, to kiss a little longer, to have an arm wrapped around me, less sweet more sultry. But that said, I know if he actually lingered longer at my front door, or knit his hand in mine as we walked to the car I'd feel crowded. How contrary I am!
Saturday rolls around and despite another potential set up, I'm exhausted and cancel. Adding another man to the mix might mix me up to the point of nausea, plus I was mid-contrary-awareness after date 2.0. So I put on my finest and head to work. Mid-afternoon, my confession-inclined, unstable ex appears. He says I don't look happy to see him (I'm not). He's disheveled and his eyes are almost yellow and as uneasy as it makes me I can't help but look into them for a thread of sincerity. He says he misses me, he says he needs me and he knows I still need him. Then he grapples for anything that could bind us together. "What's wrong?" he says. "You look sad," he notes (and I am). I'm sad because it is too late, because when I look into his hazel eyes I no longer melt, I'm no longer weak at the way he looks at me and his desperation and his timing sadden me. As I look into his eyes, I see that in my heart there is nothing there for him. It's clear and it hurts because I want to want him. But I'm done with his uncertainy. I'm done chasing someone who wants me one day but not the next. He leaves the store shaking his head.
Sunday night I have a date with chatty bachelor. I'm not sure if its the barrage of phone calls and messages, or my prevailing mood from the day before, or my comparison to date 2.0 or the date itself, but I really wasn't there. By that I mean, I was there with a slight sniffle but as harsh as it sounds, I think my date was on this date by himself. It feels wrong to say this because I know he put so much thought into planning this date, but he had clear ideas about what would happen. For example, when it came time to order the wine, he asked my opinion for which I suggested a modest but wonderful, red (Beaujolais), he rebuffed with Pinot Noir and despite my lack of persistence, we almost got into a fight over the wine choice. At one point, he told me I was "pulling the France card" which I'm not sure what that means, but I assume it means I was talking about France, which one would do if they were asked about their travels to Europe.
There were points in this date where I found myself biting my tongue (which wasn't nearly as tasty as the chocolate mouse he insisted we order despite the fact that I was too stuffed to finish half my meal). Why would I of all people nibble on my tongue, that doesn't sound like me? Well for two reasons, I suspect. First, it was hard to get a word in, edge wise. The rustic voice and elaborate stories that enchanted me into agree to this date entrapped me within it. Second, I became acutely aware of my experience, my education, my background and not wanting to put on a holier-than-thou performance decided to say mum.
There were parts of this date that were quite lovely, if they hadn't been cast over by a feeling of discomfort. Our walk down Yonge Street would have been romantic if I hadn't been shivering along unnoticed. Our talk in the park would have been romantic if it hadn't been slightly spitting rain. Our conversation would have been engaging if I didn't feel like I was trying to convinced that I like many things that I clearly don't. Some examples: wine from California, camping, sitting on a park bench while it almost rains. I feel terribly now because despite how he tried to convince me to catch on to how romantic the evening was, despite all his good intentions and a poem about a first kiss, all I caught from the night was a death of a cold.
And so with a cloudy head cold, I find myself on a ship I built that is slowly sinking. Do I bail out the water and patch it up? Do I forgo everything and jump? Or like a good captain, do I go down with the ship?
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