Car Service…wait, what, date proposal?

A few weeks ago, while out painting the town with my friend and her husband, we took a car service home from the restaurant. Our driver was concerned about UberX and the upcoming launch of UberHop in the city. But he had a plan for the day he’d no longer be driving as a car service.

He was 60-ish year’s old, his son was on the verge of being married. He’d been driving since arriving in Canada some 10 years earlier.

A while back he’d bought himself a classic car that needed some fixing up and in his spare time, fixing it up became his hobby.

As we drove along the Highway towards home, he pulled out of the drivers door side-pocket a dark blue a hard covered binder and handed it to my friends husband seated in the passenger seat.

“That’s the car I am fixing up,” he indicated as my friends husband opened up the binder revealing a number of 8×11, printer quality, colour-photos of his project all neatly tucked into their individual protective plastic sleeves.

He continued his verbal show-and-tell as my friends husband flipped through the pages.

He was finishing up his story as we pulled up in front of my condo building. My friends husband handed back the blue hard covered binder which disappeared back into the car door side-pocket.

He put the car in park and as we all clambered out the driver continued explaining his life plans, “When I no longer have a job as a driver because of UberX and UberHop, I am going to rent my classic car out along with my driving services for special occasions, like weddings”

With a glint in her eyes and a smile on her face my friend quipped, “DF when you get married, you can hire him!”

Without skipping a beat the driver turned to face us and belted out across the roof of the car, “I AM SINGLE!” and he reached into the car door side-pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to me.

On Valentine’s Past

wpid-img_20150215_224301.jpgValentine’s weekend is almost over.  I used to detest Valentine’s Day, never mind weekend.

The pressure I put on myself to fit into the perfect cookie cutter valentine and somehow pull off the vision of commercial love on a personal level. What happened to the classroom story of St. Valentine and drizzling hot toffee on the snow? That’s all behind me, the pressure of being the perfect valentine and toffee on the snow.

I look forward to Valentine’s weekend. It’s a great excuse to celebrate weekend-long self-love.  But who’s kidding, isn’t that every weekend, every weekday?

Who cares, this is a Valentine’s weekend post and those are just semantics 🙂

I have good memories of the few boys who’ve made an attempt at making my Valentine’s day special. Perhaps not quite leaving the mark they were attempting.

My favourite being the year I wore jeans and an old sweatshirt for the big night out. I am not sure if the reason for my continued amusement is that I found this man’s obsessions peculiar; from his annoyance that he’d only dated 1 girl before me, (which seemed to consume him each time we hung out), his penchant for walking around his place half-dressed while I sat amongst his mess waiting for him to burn his skin with his fried eggs, or maybe it was his “come-back” two years later when I couldn’t escape fast enough from the thoughtful home-cooked meal he put together for me – I wasn’t ready for his attentiveness.

However, the real reason I smile so wildly today at the thought of this bygone valentine, is the gift he gave me.

I remember the smell of his cologne, his shy handsome smile and light kiss he left on my cheek when he gifted me a plant. The plant died, the love never did bloom and the nice shiny red vase has since made the journey to Sweden. It is sitting comfortably on a window sill enjoying Scandinavian Valentine’s.

This memory will forever bring out a smile and remind me of my 20’s.

That Man from the 3rd floor

A few months ago one of my best friends mandated that I “get serious” about dating.

To be honest, sometime in my teens, my grand-mother scared the marriage right out of me. It was a balmy summer day, she was at the stove cooking something delicious and I was sulking at the old wooden table.

“You know DF, the guy you agree to marry is the most important decision you will ever make. It will change your life for ever. You remember that and be mighty careful who you agree to marry.”

No problem.

Single.

Crisis averted.

Friends have done their best to persuade me that at least putting some effort into being available to meet someone that will change my mind, is worth my while. And spending my weekends traipsing here and there, would be better done with a male mate that wasn’t just a best-friend from some past, failed relationship.

As a pouty 20-something, that was a great strategy and I am still on the fence if it’s still a fool-proof strategy as a 30-something but open to entertaining suggestions.

Here I am, being open minded, taking advice from the one’s who have happily passed from single-dom into dual-dom. It can’t be all that bad, they are still happy.

So when a friend of mine gleefully described a fellow neighbour she met in my elevator, I agreed to keep an eye out.

“Come on DF, what, you’re going to sit here and waste away counting cars?!”

I argued back, “It’s much too close, honestly, there is hardly a floor separating us and how do you exactly propose I bump into him? Take up residence in the elevator?”

“No silly, just keep your eye open for him and talk to him when you see him.”

Ok. Fine

Within a week I magically bumped into this creature she accurately described.

He was tall, handsome and yes, he lived on the 3rd Floor.

Did I talk to him?

Not really.

With my mouth full of apple, I opted for grunting and hand gestures while he explained to me how “tired” he was from his “many” late nights watching “professional sports”. Finishing off with a list of the teams he was cheering for.

I only managed a “Have a nice night” once his back was turned and I was sure my apple pieces were safe!

I think I made her proud 🙂

On Random Life Altering Events as Related to Dating

Growing up, there was no TV in our house. The New Kids On The Block music videos sounded pretty cool especially the Hanging Tough video that included lots of hanging tough arm waving but instead of learning all the dance moves, I was busy building forts in the tree tops and…reading books.

I didn’t realize how shameful and awkward this “no-TV” situation was until the first Gulf war when a grade-four friend was concerned at the lack of a TV in my family’s living room; she cornered me on the playground to debate the devastating effects of my parent’s decision.

“What if the Iraqi’s invade Canada! How would your family and I get to safe hiding in time?”.

And my logical response:

a) we lived in butt-f***-nowhere and I was pretty sure the Iraqi’s didn’t care about bombing our particular remote Canadian city.

b) provided the Iraqi’s were interested in our city, I was pretty certain they wouldn’t promote their intentions through the daily news channel therefore negating the positive effects of owning a TV in the face of possible war.

c) at the end of our street, 20 feet in the air stood the remnants of a WWII air-raid siren that miraculously still worked.

d) the American’s initiated the war, not us peace-keeping Canadians who had nary a bullet in our shiny rifles, what threat were we really?!

Grade-four was equally life-altering not only because of The New Kids On The Block, the start of the first Gulf war and the poignant realization of how dangerously odd it seemed that there was no TV in our house. It was also in grade 4 that as a class we watched The Wizard Of Oz. We didn’t watch it in the comfort of our desks, instead the class gathered in the library/music room at the south end of the school. We sat on the carpeted floor staring up at a 20 inch TV sitting on a metal cart with wheels; the VCR making clicking noises and the screen flickering the entire time.

The class didn’t watch the movie in one whole sitting, it was broken down into segments.

It was during the first segment when we got to the part where the wicked witch enters the long room where she kept her multiple human heads, I’d had enough. I stood up, all my peers sitting quietly, intently watching, anticipating what was to come next. I tip-toed around my classmates sprawled on the floor and left the room.

My concerned teacher followed as any concerned teacher would do and I politely asked if I could be excused from watching the film, suggesting as an alternative that I sit in our classroom and read a book.

Yep that’s right, I wanted to read a book.

My decision to read a book in lieu of watching The Wizard Of Oz with the rest of my classmates brings us to the other fourth-grade life altering realization that didn’t include how ashamed I should feel about the lack of a TV at home.

See there was a boy who decided that he didn’t want to watch the movie either and to this day I can’t decide if he REALLY didn’t want to watch the movie or if he wanted to just sit in the same empty room as me. From grade-four until we graduated High School he was always there like a shadow when I turned around, just there, waiting for me to be nice to him for once? I promise if I bump into him I’ll apologize for a least not being nice.

My dating anxiety grew from those quiet, self-imposed, grade-four reading sessions in a mostly empty classroom. I was a worried little kid realizing for the first time that I couldn’t control which boys decided to like me and there was a possibility I might like some boys more than they liked me. Worse of all, I realized that with enough persistence it was possible that I might be able to be convinced to like someone back as much as they liked me.

Frankly, I was suppose to be the one in control, picking which boys were allowed to like me! But understanding that this was not to be the case and needing to protect my interests, by the time I graduated from High School and dragged myself to College I’d narrowed down the rules on boys and dating to one solid rule.

To sum it up, I unwittingly choose an anthem with dumb lyrics as a guide, you know the one:

Be, be aggressive
B-e, be aggressive
You never know
Just who you’re up against, so
B-e, b-e aggressive
B-e, b-e aggressive

I admit it has evolved over time, however the “be, be aggressive” lyrics did come in handy the time when my idea of short-lived longevity wasn’t exactly shared and interpreted the same way by my date and well, I got a taste of that thing called “the witness protection program” only it wasn’t the law that helped in assigning me a new identity, it was my close friends. 🙂

To dating, staying safe and…in control…whatever that means LOL!!

On Coffee and Random Strange Men

On Coffee and Random Strange Men

Lately I have been away visiting, unexpectedly of course.

The fun part about visiting is I get to try out new local, organic, free-trade coffee houses. This makes me exceptionally happy!

I do my best to keep the coffee experience as close as possible to what I have at home for the sole purpose of making sure I don’t climb the walls.

See my legs are a little like two pets. When they don’t get walked they get hyper-active, naughty and little mouthy.

So this walking thing keeps them in line and besides it gives me a chance to see the community even if the interaction includes someone yelling in my face, like the man on his racing bike, muttering loud enough that I can hear above my music, “Gorgeous, just gorgeous.”

There was a squeal of a tire and a thump, thump behind me. I didn’t turn around. I can only image behind me was a human pretzel entwined in metal.

I do not fantasize that it is only I who attracts unwanted attention, nor do I delude myself into thinking I am a super model, flawlessly air brushed every time I step out of the shower. It may be possible to airbrush the illusion of ample cleavage and to rid the legs that end at the navel of hereditary cellulite and slim the booty to nothing but honestly who has the time and who cares?

You see it is not just me who is accosted while out on strolls, minding my own business.

It is in fact all women. We all have stories. There is no discrimination to age, shape, size, long legs, short legs, curvy, straight, short, tall, well endowed or flat as a board.

I had an argument with a man a few years ago. He was complaining that women think they’re “all-that”. I am paraphrasing but he must have said something like the following:

“All women just think they are hot, sexy and too good for guys.”

Actually most women think the following:

“Crap I am unattractive, this dress is sooo unflattering, look it’s showing my cellulite *gasp* I promise myself to bike a little harder in next week’s spin class and maybe my female friends will compliment me on my supple smooth skin and be jealous. Oh and by the way all men think they are hot, sexy, God’s gift to women and too good for us!”

Take that bucko LOL. That is how I may have responded but I admit my memory is a little fuzzy. I do remember however being distracted by his enormous ego :).

This whole yelling and telling complete strangers how hot and darn amazing they look isn’t helping with the argument of how men think women organically feel about themselves. I mean it’s no wonder we now have heads the size of giant, country fair winning Watermelon’s!

Right ladies?!?!

Yell at us indiscriminately enough times and we’ll accept that we are purrrfect for every and any man and we’ll continue to work on that stubborn cellulite for our fellow female friends only. 🙂

Of all the times I’ve been creepily yelled at or followed; from the weirdo wearing a cow-plop hat strattling his white scooter pushing with his legs three feet behind me to the man who chased me down the road yelling for me to stop to talk?!?!?! (Seriously has this ever actually worked?), my all time favourite experience and yes I accept this is weird that there is a favourite! but there is one.

It was the man on the bike with a basket and a bell.

He was leisurely biking towards me, weaving all over the path, I am guessing enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. He was pedalling an old bike with a rusted basket on the front and a bike bell on the right handlebar.

As he got closer he started dinging his little bell to get my attention. I ignored him.

When he got within earshot he said,

“You look great, you really do.”

When I smirked at him and gave him the “screw off” look clutching my illegal mace and anticipating the typical negative reaction of “b*tch”, he instead slowed down his bike stopped and quietly said, “I really meant it, I am not looking for an acknowledged approval, I just wanted to let you know that you look nice.”

And with that he pedalled away.

Maybe it was his soft eyes or how he said it – I didn’t feel verbally violated and if he had of turned around his bike and asked me out for coffee I might have just put away the mace and said “Sure.”

Ya, we’re complicated 🙂

A Man’s Attractiveness; One Woman’s Point of View

A Man’s Attractiveness;  One Woman’s Point of View

There is one activity that will win and keep a woman and it is consistency.

I have had enough arguments with the male gender on why women are so enthralled by celebrity crushes and I am here to tell you it is worse than you first thought.

You see it’s not that they live in mansions, drive fancy cars, dine at exclusive dinner clubs and travel the world at will or that they have washboard abs, killer hands, muscular legs or the ability to grow a beard. Those are nice to have’s don’t get me wrong! The real reason for these incredulous crushes comes down to one thing and that is consistency.

You can see the implications of this simple criteria?

Let me explain just to clear up any confusion.

Over the last few months I have developed THE biggest crush on the devilishly handsome Federal Express delivery man. You could say it is his swagger, his impeccable blue steel impression, his dark hair or his killer smile but I assure you, those are simply added bonuses.

What’s really attractive about this beast, who in my mind now rivals Richard Armitage for top crush, is his consistency.

Like Armitage, who in every film I’ve seen of him so far consistently does this thing with his eyes, Mr. FedEx consistently drops off express package’s to the store.

Its not that we know what day he is arriving, it is that the days he does arrive he magically appears between 9:30 am and 10 am.

Its a little like playing the lottery, you know someone might win today, someone will win, you just don’t know when.

It doesn’t even matter that his consistency depends on his employer or his most important need, his pay check.

So you see gentlemen, it isn’t just the silver screen you need to concern yourself with in the quest to win a heart, its much more immediate. It is those men who are being consistently consistent in real-life!

The only option then if you are on a quest for a woman to develop an incredulous crush on you, pick something you do well, do it consistently and keep surprising her! You can’t imagine what you’ll get in return, hey, she might even faint for you. What man doesn’t want a woman fainting over his manny-ly-ness!!

For me, I am going to continue to enjoy my FedEx crush from behind the stack of merchandising, at a safe distance 🙂

On Dating and staying Attractive – article

On Dating and staying <i>Attractive</i> – article


I tried this experiment in real life and it WORKS, if you stop looking after yourself, you will get dumped 🙂 LOL

Male bird loses interest in fading females, study finds

(AFP) – 1 day ago

PARIS — Not unlike some among their human counterparts, male blue tits lose interest when their mates’ beauty starts fading, staying out longer and neglecting their offspring, a report said Monday.

Scientists who dulled the bright blue head tinge that crowns the female of the species, subsequently noticed the males skulking off for more alone time and making fewer trips to feed their chicks.

“It seems that they stay around, but not in the nest,” study co-author Matteo Griggio told AFP.

“Probably they take a rest…. It is not a joke, probably they keep some energy, maybe for the next breeding season?”

Both male and female blue tits, which usually have several mating partners in a lifetime, have feathers on the tops of their heads that reflect UV light.

For the purposes of the experiment, the team from the Konrad Lorenz Institute of Ethology in Vienna waited for chicks to hatch before smearing an oil containing UV-blocking chemicals on the crowns of the females.

To confirm that it would not be the smell that put off the males, they applied the same oil, without UV-blockers, to a separate test group of females.

The scientists said they took care not to render the partners unrecognisable to each other.

“The UV reflectance of the crown plumage of female blue tits significantly affected male investment in feeding nestlings,” the team wrote in a study published in the BioMed Central journal Frontiers in Zoology.

“Males made less frequent feeding trips when paired with UV-reduced females.”

While much has been written about male posturing and strutting to compete for female attention, this was a rare study to measure male response to female attractiveness in the animal kingdom.

The results showed that female blue tits must invest a lot of time in preening to remain attractive as sexual partners.

In nature, those birds with poorer personal hygiene risk losing their blue lustre under a coating of dust, pollution or parasites.