It’s all Lemon Meringue and B Movies

One side effect that I experienced from quitting smoking has been a sharp increase of pot smoking.

I was totally not expecting that.

I used to smoke pot daily, through most of my twenties.  Then came the demise of a long term relationship, and although I had thought that I was handling everything with grace and aplomb, this was clearly not the case; I started getting panic attacks whenever I got high.

So I stopped smoking pot.

Except for when I was with friends.

So I stopped smoking pot everyday, and only really got into it once or twice a month.  Which is probably more often than most people smoke when they claim that they no longer smoke pot.  Whatever; you wish you were as awesome as I.

I don’t know what it was that kick started the weed cravings this time around (I’m pretty sure it has something to do with my body’s inability to operate without a certain amount of drugs in its system, I believe the condition is called badassitis, or maybe it’s just the PWT Syndrome), and I don’t really care either.   Everything has been so delicious and confusing and hilarious.

It feels good to go back.

It’s a Goddamn Waste of Sweet Ass

So, for the past year, give or take, I’ve been getting laid via online dating websites.

I wasn’t terribly impressed by the the dawning of this new era in my love life, but it was the only option presented to me.  During this same year, I’d been approached exactly once by a man in real life (I don’t consider sexual harassment while walking down the street a valid form of ‘being approached,’ otherwise I’d be all over those Portuguese sports bars on Dundas, those guys fucking love me!).  And he was mean.

Fuck that shit, a girl has needs and egos and these needs and egos must not be ignored.  So online dating was how it had to go.

And it went okay for awhile.  Obviously everyone was out of their respective leagues when dating me, but there were a few guys who were worthy of a quick genital-centric acquaintanceship, if nothing else.

But then it stopped.  I don’t know why, but everything suddenly dried up.  Six boyfriends in a row, and then three months of barren wasteland.  I started to date again last month, but it was all wrong.  Five dates with four guys.  Again: Fuck that shit.

I’d rather be alone than be so continuously disappointed by the fairer sex.

So fuck you, online dating, and fuck you lame Toronto dating scene, I have to go back to masturbating about imaginary boyfriends, because they’re the only ones who treat me nicely anymore.

You have no idea how sad that makes me feel.

Avalanche!!

I have a significant build up of posts that have either been removed or were never published in the first place.

Fuck it, I’m publishing all of them.  Now.

No fuss, no muss, no alterations, other than the publishing date, which will now be July 15th for all of them.

Here you go!

Dating Commandments for the Newly Single

I recently had a conversation with a woman who had just become single again after a long relationship.  She wasn’t anywhere near ready to start dating again, but we talked about all the stupid crap I learned about dating in my thirties, and I thought I’d record some of the info here for future reference.

Lesson #1: Stay the hell away from men who are already involved in relationships.

I know that this would seem like a no-brainer to anyone who possesses a functioning set of morals, but recent breakups do weird things to a person’s mindset. You just don’t care about the sanctity of other people’s relationships.  And why should you?  It’s not your fucking responsibility to see that someone else stays faithful, when they’re obviously not interested in doing so for themselves.

Within the first six months of being freshly single, I messed around with two different men who were in relationships.  My logic at the time was “This guy is going to fuck around on his girlfriend/wife regardless of my particular presence, so I might as well get my kicks while I’m still young enough to get ‘em.”

And it was kind of fun with the first one, because I never developed any feelings for the guy.  He just made me feel cuddled and cheap, and when his British accent charmed me no longer, I stopped answering his calls.

The second guy, however, I liked him right away.  And that “like” quickly turned into something “more.”  The whole experience sucked.  It didn’t matter that he’d only been dating his girlfriend for a few weeks before meeting me (which isn’t so much “cheating” as it is “sleazeball”), he still chose to string me along, and I still chose to play second fiddle, all the while refusing to admit to myself that I was being hoodwinked by a selfish asshole.  Long story short: it didn’t end well, but I am now friends with his ex.  And I revenge-fucked his best friend.  None of this is relevant to the post.

Lesson #2: Stay the fuck away from men who are fresh out of their own long term relationships.

I’ve dated a couple of these guys.  They are emotionally volatile, self absorbed, and they will hurt your feelings.  Let some other woman deal with their stupid post-break up tantrums, wait a few months and date them when they’ve learned how to play nicely with others.  Just remember, you don’t eat a cookie that’s fresh out of the oven, because it’ll burn you!

Lesson #3: Don’t date a man who’s never been in a relationship.

There’s a reason why no one stuck around.

You Put me on a Pedestal, I’ll Put me on a Pillow

Well, that was a pretty good birthday.

I didn’t act like an asshole, I got some nice presents, I wore a great dress, I was complimented by a whole group of men (strangers, no less) on my choice of footwear, plenty of people popped up out of the woodwork to wish me happiness, and I have even more presents on the way.

And I don’t even feel like an old hag.

I ran into an old friend today, who has been living the life of a happily married woman in recent years.  She even made a baby.  We sat on a stoop on Queen street catching up for a few minutes, and when I told her that I’d spent the past year dating men compulsively (“Lover after lover, yeah one after the other” there’s a reason why that song was stuck in my head all day), she suggested that we switch lifestyles for a few weeks.

And that’s when I remembered how boring it is to be stuck in the middle of a long term relationship.

Fuck love, I’ll take my legions of secret and not-so-secret admirers any day.

And maybe some more compulsive dating.  My head’s cleared up.

Hats, Cats and Krauts

A bit more on my dating hiatus:

I really overdid it with the compulsive dating this past year.  Six men, and I basically swung from one to the next like Tarzan traveling from vine to vine through the jungle.

I burned myself out, and I have a lot of anger stuck inside me from those of them who hurt me.  Whether it was through malicious intent or mere inconsiderate behaviour, I don’t know, but I need to lance this boil in order to heal and move on.

So here it goes, all the things I’d wanted to say but never got the chance to, in chronological order:

#1: Fucking listen once in awhile!  Spend less time telling me what I thought about our relationship, and just shut the hell up and listen.  P.S. Self proclaimed “nice guys” are the meanest and most self deluded assholes in the world.

#2: No issues with you.  You were really cute and fun, I just lost interest.  Twice.

#3: I think the reason why I was so angry about you wasn’t so much because you were such a dumb twat, but simply because I was angry with myself for actually dating such a dumb twat.  You were very kind to cook for me, even if you were the worst cook I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing, and your cats were cute.  But I still hate hippies, and myself, too, for dating one.  Even if said hippie did make himself out to be way more punk than he actually was.

#4: I still talk to you.  You are the only one with whom I still keep in contact.  Sushi was great last week, and I forgot how much I missed you.  However, your hats are pure evil, and I’m going to burn them when I come visit you.  Be warned; both about the upcoming visit and subsequent hat burning.

#5: Discretion!!  Come on!!!  Your life is not a sitcom, and sometimes women get hurt when you flaunt your skankery.  Sigh, at least you were honest.

#6: I didn’t need you to call me up to dump me.  I already knew you weren’t interested by the way you blew me off for two weeks straight, especially after having only dated me for three weeks prior.  I also didn’t need you to tell me that I was dumped because you met someone you liked way more than me.  No more blue eyed devils for me.

And there we have it.  All the last words I’d wanted to say but didn’t.

Oh Shit, Baby Animals

I just happened to stumble upon this site, Zooborns, that has a hell of a lot of pictures and videos of baby zoo animals.

Baby Clouded Leopards

Lucky Charm Piglets

Sweet fucking wildlife, can they be any cuter?

Early Thoughts

A couple months ago, I was talking to someone about the earliest childhood memories a person keeps with them.

Mine was this:

I was in my room alone (maybe my mom was in the shower, or maybe she was just in another room).  I had taken a bottle of baby powder and was shaking it all over myself.  I remember the powder falling into the wrinkles of my diaper as I stood there, and I remember knowing that my mother would be angry if she caught me, but being unable to stop myself.

My thought processes at that age were purely in the form of images.  I was too young to think in words.  I find it interesting that I was old enough to be aware of my wrongdoing, but young enough to be in diapers.  That would definitely place me under the age of two.

Breaking Up

I can’t write anymore.

I don’t know if this is a permanent thing, or if I’ve just not been in the mood, but writing is not working for me.

I need breathing space.  I need time to explore other forms of expression.  I need writing to not be so elusive without cigarettes, because doing this, right now, is akin to torture.

And I don’t want it to be this way.  I’m worried about the thoughts and feelings that might accumulate in my mind and my heart if I can’t write them away.

But I can’t keep going on like this.  Writing has never been a top priority for me, and if it gets sacrificed in honour of my new non smoking life, then so be it.  There are so many other activities that I enjoy as a non smoker, my life has an actual flavour now.

So fuck you writing, I’m outta here.  For now.

Rest Assured, You’re in Good Company

I really wish I knew how to do the soft rejection.

How to tell a man that I’m not interested without making him feel bad.

Because honestly, every man that I’ve rejected in recent months has been very nice, I just don’t care to pursue any of them in a romantic environment.  There are no good reasons why, it’s not because they were gross or stupid or rude, I just didn’t want to continue seeing them.

Any of them.

And I don’t know how to tell them this while simultaneously making them feel good about themselves.  I guess that’s what makes rejection such a bitch – the inevitable fact that it sucks.

Sorry guys.