verbatim.

A common goal among singles, with the start of a new year and a commitment to a new you is to dabble in one or more of the numerous dating apps, sites or match making services: you know Tinder, Happn, Match, eHarmony, Elite Singles, Christian Mingle, Vancouver MatchMakers, etc.The rationale here is simple, there might possibly some one or some one(s) out there that you just haven’t met yet.

Being part of the masses, and of course to add to the research, I elected to take part in this practice, going above and beyond the Frosted tips tinder strategy of just swipe right for everyone (amateurs).

Below is a snapshot of messages received over the course of two weeks from the lovely men in our fair VanCity. Now as a disclaimer this is not a shaming exercise, but rather to highlight the creativity and angles that people use in pursuit of a mate. Step right up single girl, your dream date could be behind one of the messages below!

Bachelor #1: I actually read your profile (yes, stroke me later hear me, now)…I have a magical feeling we would get along famously…See u in the kitchen in 10; we got gingerbread cookies to make, cuz they ain’t gonna burn themselves….I sense a chakhral holy nexus of possibilities here, And sense a calmness of soul…and saw your indelible photo and profile. Selcouthly Scrumptious smiley smile – ebbs and flows- and inviting eyes, revealing a hint of your warm aura, or maybe I’m wrong, and you’re a tyrant! 

Verdict: High, taking the piss, or just plain crazy cakes.

Bachelor #2: Msg 1: Okay first off I just spent like an hour writing this message and then I couldn’t send it due to your settings so yes I cheated to be able to send you this but I put so much effort into it I couldn’t let it go to waste, don’t hate me!! 

Msg 2: OMG you hate me don’t you? Why aren’t you responding? You seem so nice and I love your photos, please give me a chance?

Msg 3: Am I scaring you off? F! I’m so bad at this, I don’t know what to say, can we just please meet for coffee in like 5 min?

Verdict: You are assuming I am going to hate you because you allegedly wrote me a message and it disappeared? And you’re assuming I have time in my day to drop everything in 5 minutes? No, thats childs play, whoa tiger, tone it done.

Bachelor #3: I’ll be straight up with you about my  involvement with a certain division of the US government so I can’t really talk about it, well not on here anyway, if we met up for a date then of course I would tell you in person but it’s just not something I can chat about openly …saying this now I’m sure it it will scare you off but I would rather be open about it now then to spring it on you after our 8th date and find out your not okay with it. 

Verdict: So, we are having 8 dates are we? Hmm, ok. But more importantly when do I officially get to become a spy?

Bachelor #4: hey, how are you, would you like to get to know each other and meet up sometime we can go for a bite to eat or coffeeshop, I’m looking for a committed relationship, fall in love and open to threesomes.

Verdict: Love the diversity, long winded sentencing and lack of proper punctuation, oh and your openness, you must also be on a year of firsts quest?

Bachelor #5: Hi, welcome to a nice life, take a right into love lane and then a left at romantic. Continue south to the heat of never never land and float over to cloud 9. If you wish to continue north into mile high club this will lead to utopia.

Verdict: Does my Nexus pass work enroute to Utopia?

Bachelor #6: Sometimes I wonder why God allows bad things to happen to good people. For example, how have we never been on a date yet?

Verdict: Smooth, did you just watch the State of the Nation? And, what about the atheists? the radicals? Terrorists? Don’t they all go on dates?

Bachelor #7: X. No really guys, X. Girlfriends of mine flagged this one pretty darn quick, and the kicker? He’s just photo shopped me out of some pictures, include a wedding photo, because apparently he looked that good in a suit that it is online dating worthy. His LinkedIn photo is apparently the same. Yes single girl, those are my diamond earrings dangling,yes my dress really was that stunning, and no you cannot borrow that pair of Manolos. The phone call that I got from a girlfriend, was basically her silent laughing with intermittent snorting, code for I have something to tell you and you’re not going to like it, you’re going to love it. God bless girlfriends.

Verdict: Funny? Yes. Sad? even more so. Clearly he is didn’t learn anything from his marketing/PR ex wife, reassuring to know I was actually good for something.

Bachelor #8: A photo is worth a thousand words, but in order to avoid the photo shame, let us just say Bachelor #8 has swapped a headshot with a McDonalds Ice Cream cone, chocolate covered phallic symbol, with the tagline: seeking a no limits Sub.

Verdict: Will there be ice cream involved if I agree to be a Sub?

Bachelor #9: I am only writing to you because I have extremely high standards (just ask my friends) but I think you could be it. I am so confident that I think should plan 3 dates, instead of one. I also want to tell you what a great package you are getting with me: I own multiple businesses around the world, I helped a community of women escape the Taliban,  and I live on Davie St, and I am not gay. I am so rare, I am a dating unicorn, oh and I see dead people. Once we start dating, I like my coffee with brown sugar, not many people do, you know. It is a sign of intelligence, this is probably why I got into MIT. Anyway, you are really lucky I contacted you.

Verdict: Oh, yes, how lucky. And I think I need to not be so selfish here, you should really hold out for someone in your league, I am so not worthy.

Well there you have it folks, for those of you who are terrified of the online community, I am sure I didn’t do you any favours, and for those of you in the trenches, I am sure you have your own stories to add, so please comment.

And, in the interest of thoughts becoming things, note we have not concluded with Bachelor #10, in my mind Bachelor #10 should be the real deal, and in the interest of manifestation lets just keep that open shall we?

Worst case, this ends up being a two part, three part, or multi verbatim series…

houdini.

You all know what I’m talking about. The ignored text, blocking numbers on your iPhone, Facebook/Instagram deletes, using your concierge/doorman to inform a suiter that you no longer live at said residence. Or going so far as to claim a name change, fake city move, new religious affiliation (convent/vow of celibacy) or even the witness protection program.

Otherwise known as the Houdini. The disappearing act. We are all guilty of it.

Why do we pull a Houdini? Well this really goes back to our fight vs flight response when we feel like we are in a pressure cooker. For the masses, confrontation is extremely uncomfortable, it feels gross, and I believe deep down we are all inherently terrified of being the bearer of bad news, or to be so blunt, we are cowards, therefore we pull a Houdini.

With this in mind, I like to think that people are still inherently good, and not cowardly, so if this is the case and you are not a coward, when is it ok to pull a Houdini? Well this is a loaded question, because some people would argue that it is never ever ok.  I disagree, I think in some scenarios a Houdini is your best option. For example, if said suiter becomes a stalker, violent or insane, you are completely within your Houdini rights.

Now, what do we do if we’ve had a Houdini pulled on us? Well sometimes, it is that age old karma coming into play. You Houdini someone, someone else, somewhere will Houdini you. Other times it is completely out of the blue. I hadn’t had anyone give me a really good story in a while (terrified I might write about it, are we?) thankfully, one evening discussing ex’s and high expectations, a lovely gent shared that he had the ultimate Houdini pulled on him, when the girl he had been dating ran off suddenly with her ex to elope in Maui. Now this is a perfect example of a Houdini resulting in karma, as gent had discovered, she got divorced months later and boomeranged back to gent at attempts to reconnect. I sense gent, is not insane and therefore knows better than to get front row tickets to Houdini for an encore.

Now if we suspect a Houdini has been pulled on us, what timeframe do we enforce before we call off the search party? Red and I came to the conclusion that two weeks is sufficient, if the other party has not reached out to you within two weeks, do not send out a search party, consider this a dead duck.

If you are contemplating a Houdini, well like any grand act, I recommend you start with a strategy. You need to look at what the outcome(s) could be if you decide the Houdini is the best option so do some stringent scenario planning. Why? Well sometimes a Houdini is unsuccessful, especially when it is Vancouver and for some weird reason it seems to be like 1.5 degree of separation. You run the risk even in perceived safe zones that you may run into the Houdinized victim.  For example, I had a girlfriend hide under a chair outside 49th Parallel in Kits, then sneak across under a few tables, before rolling out the door and hightailing down West 4th.  It was by far the best stop, drop and roll vanishing act I had witnessed. Well aside from hiding under a coat on a mannequin during the Holts mid season 70% off sale…. I was desperate ok?

Look I get it, confrontation is uncomfortable,  don’t get bruises on your knee’s or get escorted out of Holts, if you’re going to pull a Houdini, do it with grace, and if you find yourself subject of one, let it go, it probably was a blessing.

 

risk/return.

The markets suck right now.

This is my first time living and breathing this scenario, and it is brutal out there. I blissfully avoided the market meltdown of 2008, as a grad student, working my tush off to get my MBA in Australia, a country that took a strong stance of: ‘what recession?’

Now being completely in the trenches, and being the front line of trying to make investing sexy (maybe this should be on my LinkedIN?? Tech-Man, Nic, thoughts?)  all of a sudden I am fielding questions such as:

•  Um, excuse me but why is my rate of return is only 2.89% when online the benchmark  says it should be 9%?
•  I lost $500 yesterday! Can’t you do something???
• Don’t you finance people have a crystal ball??? Fix it!

I’m sorry, do you not watch the news?  We are in teetering on the edge of chaos. Everything is in red. Do you know what that means? Le sigh. Never mind, just call Tech-Man, he’ll explain it. He has the patience only witnessed in folks like the Dali Lama. I can give you his number (Tech-Mans, not the Dali Lama).

In amongst the crisis that has plagued the last week,Tech-Man was ever so kind to take a break from his calls to do a CDN-US dollar conversion for sweet little ol’ me on the spot, when I mentioned I was contemplating crossing the line to get gas (yes this was my big first world problem, see if the finance people aren’t freaking out, you shouldn’t be either). Um, our dollar is worth .68.  Oh and border guard is in Texas on vacay, so not even a chance of getting in some good eye candy in Washington State. Fine, decision made, Costco Canada it is. Thanks Tech-Man.

Tech-Man is good for aiding in the decision making process from time to time. Yesterday, I had asked him for advice, what should I be telling people about the markets when I am out doing my usual song and dance, (with clothes and dignity I might add).  We digressed, started talking about our favourite adjectives, how we could romance the  market doom and gloom, I had just come across an absolute delicious word, which was escaping me at the moment,Tech-Man suggested that I should really learn the word No. He said this would help me in the dating adventures, and also put a stop to me being told by dates that I was agreeable. ‘Wink wink’

See kids, you can always learn, even from your elders.

Anyway, back to the markets, they blow. People are panicking, its scary.

Why?

Well, in truth, we tend to be risk averse, because we have all been through shit, we have all lost something, and it sucks.  We don’t like to put things on the line and then see a loss. And of all the things we hate to lose the most? Love and Money.

So as we focus on our finances, we also must focus on love, and you have to ask yourself, how much potentially, am I willing to lose?

Like the markets, dating has a very clear risk/return ratio. The more risk you take, the more you play in the equity market, the more apt you are to say date a stock, the higher probability you are to see greater rates of return, but you can also see a major market crash, the heartbreak, and this can take months, years to recover from. It can also sometimes only be a matter of time before you’ve built back up a nice steady rate of return, and then all of a sudden with one bad investment, there you are, boom, back in the red.

However, the alternative is to invest in a bond, be somewhat, stable, consistent. Even then you are susceptible to a crash, and also worse off in this case because you’ve been conservative Carla, and now all of a sudden you’ve got nothing else to go on. You’ve put all your eggs in the bond basket, and now you are toast.

In the fund world, this is probably why balanced funds are so coveted at times, a hybrid, a mix of stocks and bonds. So you in a sense get the best of both worlds. Now of course you’re not immune at this point in the event of a market downturn, but you’ve diversified out, you’ve played it smart. The catch here is, this will only work for you, if you are truely a balanced risk profile. If you’re not, if you’re a risk taker, my god you will bored silly in balanced land. And if you’re a bond girl (not like Halle Barry, not that cool) you’ll be kept up at night worried about your balanced fund.

And if you looking for a Canada Savings Bond, or a GIC, and you never take on any risk? You are losing out. On love, on living, on knowing yourself. So please, unless you are retiring tomorrow from life, from the game, from the experience, please do not sit in this parking lot. To truely love, be intimate and potentially even lose, that is living, that is achievement, market meltdown, or riding the gravy train to double digit rates to return, yes it is  a risk, but its worth it.

So, my friends, ask yourself, what kind of investor are you? Even with a market downturn, things are cyclical, they bounce back, you bounce back, but are you prepared to take the risk?

I have to reflect back on my sorid relationships, knowing what kind of investor I am/was, and I think we can all benefit from this, not to dwell, but to observe, and honour the space between no longer and not quite yet. This space, this is where the magic occurs. This is where you confront you, you understand your relationship between risk and return, you also respect and release the past, with the intention that you can learn, and this wisdom will carry onward with you, you warrior.

Markets, love, keep going y’all, we are getting exactly to where we need to be.

xo

Jo

 

 

sexually transmitted communications.

6 weeks into launching runningwiththeboys,  I considered pulling the plug on my blog, my baby, my creative outlet, all because of a snide comment or two.

I realised back when I was a product manager, that there were three things you needed to ask yourself when developing a new product:

1. Is it real?
2. Is there a need?
3. If there is not a need, is there a want so great that eventually this will become a need?

When it came to my blog, I answered a strong and astounding yes to it being real, and as for a need? This is open for debate but yes I do believe there is a need, and for those that didn’t believe it is a need, it is a want, it is word porn, smut, whatever you want to call it. And I believe  that this will eventually hook into a need. Like any good addiction. Dream big or not at all, right?

Despite this, I was at a crossroad, I needed advice, I had to go to Mr Dash. Mr. Dash is good like that, we bounce ideas off each other, for example, I had been summoned into his office, because he had received a mock up image from our marketing department, to be used for a very conservative client based in the midwest, and the image intact was two people sitting in beach chairs holding hands, all fine, but from the angle it looked like a lesbian couple. Which would have been fine if the client had been any other. Mr. Dash needed my opinion, yep, two women. Image vetoed.

Tit for tat, (quite literally) I needed some help, I told him I was thinking that maybe I should kill the blog as some folks are finding it a bit too ‘explicit’. His response was perfect: ‘What is the issue? Are they worried they are going to catch something sexually transmitted just by reading it?’

This is one of the many reasons why this man is my mentor whether he likes it or not.

His statement got me thinking, about the reality of sexually transmitted communications. They are out there, and unlike the STD’s, with STC’s, you can’t hightail it over to the clinic to get an ointment or like.

So what would be classified as a Sexually transmitted communication (STC)? Well lets make it a joint effort on this list, because come on, if you are reading the blog you’ve either entertained, taken part in or judged (haters gonna hate hate hate) the following:

• Sexting, this can really range from ‘thinking about you’, ‘what are you wearing?’ to situational, fantasies, the sky is the limit here, and never under estimate the power of a well written sext. Could be something simple, yet effective,  like I’m at a certain place and if you were here we wouldn’t be doing the status quo etc.
• SnapChatting… sans clothing. Like strip poker, but without the poker. I’m not sure whether to think a man or woman first came up with SnapChat. Regardless, I am sure they must have followed the three prong product rule of real, need, want. Sometimes I think it was a man, because men are visual, other times I’m sure it was a woman, the whole 10 second tease bit. But then there’s the whole notion of a screenshot. All of sudden that SnapChat lives forever and ever.
• Skype sex, FaceTime sex, and if you want to go old school, the classic phone sex route.
• Sending or receiving dick pics, boob pics, or getting right into it and going with the X rated homemade videos (Rick Solomon got nothing on you!)

My friends these are all STC’s. Now its no surprise here that men being the visual creatures they are prefer to be the recipients of the snapchats, are probably going to be the ones to initiate the Skype sex, and will ask at some point for a X rated pic/home video.

Women on the other hand would much prefer a well articulated sext, and in a survey of girlfriends, phone sex is preferred over the Skype route. Sorry guys. But we are trying to help you out here, honestly, the more you know the better you’ll do.

Regardless of the STC used, with every action comes a reaction right? So, what exactly are the consequences of STC’s if not an itch?

• Screenshots live forever, like forever ever
• Realising  while procrastini-studying or slacking at work,  while watching Liberace videos on YouTube, that your boobs just might be on the internet
• Being recognised on the street, or in the coffee shop, a ‘love your work’ and a ‘wink’ to follow (always have a disclaimer for your sexting partner -e.g. for your eyes only or else)
• Be prepared to be a topic of gossip among friends or co workers, regarding your alleged extra circular sextivities. Judgement about your war wounds, your bags under the eyes, sunglasses at daytime,  wearing the same outfit to work Monday morning, that you left Friday afternoon in (lets be honest, they were just jealous it was an all weekend date). And for the record it is not a walk of shame, if you are still smiling the next morning, have that glow and can’t stop giggling. You enjoyed yourself and there is no shame in that.
• And finally, actually realising that the power of a written naughty word, or a suggestive photo, may in fact be the butter, or bondage you needed to add a little bit of something to your status quo.

Caesar Cruz said ‘art should disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed’. Now I make no claims to be an artist, but in some circles writing, and now I am sure really good STC’s could be considered an art form.

This is why I decided to not kill the blog, and  I have come to take the less than stellar comments with the same lens I receive the good ones. Use your words, be conscious of both yours and your prospects wants and needs. Whats the fun if you’re not going to disturb the comfortable?

 

lagom, part deux: bondage and butter.

One of the many things I love about Vancouver, is that everyone that comes to this city has a story. It usually starts with them picking up from their hometown, or another country, maybe with a uhaul, maybe with a partner, or a couple of buddies, but the intention is the same, to make it on the west coast.

My favourite stories tend to be the ones where the transplant has been brave and ambitious enough to forgo working for the man and actually go out and do their own thing.

This is in part why I agreed to go to Chef’s apartment in the west end for our first date rather than the standard lets just meet somewhere safe in case either of us wants to escape date. Those are for sissies. In Vancouver anyway. I realise that in parts of Canada we do live in our own little safety bubble, this after my girl Golden, a Kiwi living in London, had girlfriends strongly advise against a first date at her prospects house, too much Dateline or real life scary stuff. Lesson? Always let your girlfriends know exactly where you are going on said date.

Anyway, Chef had suggested we make dinner together, and in the name of research and learning a new skill set why not? Rumour was in addition to being very cute, he also makes a mean Manhattan.

For the record, first dates that are non generic are 100 times better than coffee/drinks/dinner, and first dates where you can both get your hands dirty are even better.

We were going to get so dirty in fact, that I needed to wear an apron. Now the apron I was propositioned with strongly resembled something that probably lived in Mr. Grey’s fictious closest. But hey, when in Rome. So Chef helps me into said bondage apron to assemble course number one. 20 minutes in, and I’m already playing dress up. This could be a interesting evening. I wonder if there’s a whip somewhere?

So a couple of Manhattans later, story swapping, and comparing Miss Manners to Geisha’s, we start talking ingredients, specifically what brings an otherwise dull or bland food item to life, and in many cases you can peg this to as examples, something simple, butter or salt.

The same can be said for relationships, sometimes instead of throwing in the towel, all it takes is adding in another ingredient, or just a little bit more of something.  Similar theme here to asset allocation or ‘lagom’ whatever you want to call it.

And hey, in some circles this is indeed going the bondage route. A girlfriend of mine dated a guy for quite a while who had an actual pain room, and though at the end of the day not a sustainable relationship, it did add a certain ‘something’ to their status quo. No regrets, she still says to this day.

And sometimes we need this, Red and I were debating that with the accessibility to meeting people, whether its one of the billion online dating sites, mobile apps, through your friend networks, or a random stranger, it is quite easy to date. So easy to date in fact that we might find ourselves getting numb, getting so used to going on first dates that we don’t even pay attention to the spark, the butterflies, we are just going through the motions, and heading into ‘jobber’ territory, losing lagom.

So whether its dating, food, or drink, Chef and I agreed it is all abut quality ingredients, not quantity or excess. We are continually looking to Italy, Spain, France, their quality of life, quality of relationships, quality of food and drink, all ‘lagom’.

So the lesson learned, aside from how to get in and out of a bondage apron?  Keep focused on quality, rather than quantity. It is much more satisfying, and please don’t be afraid to play with status quo, better to be buttered or bondaged rather than boring.

booty calls & birth rights.

I had been having mad 604P withdrawals, we hadn’t seen each other or spoken in 12 days due to holidays, family commitments, work schedules and our perceived general awesomness.  I love it when your friendships get to that point where you break into song, a good 80’s ballad, like Total eclipse of the heart, and realise it doesn’t apply to a man but it does apply  to a friendship.

Over wine (of course) she felt she needed to intervene, over an incident at Tap and Barellel one Friday night last month, when her, Nic and I, along with some others, including one piece of eye candy, a gift courtesy of 604P (bless you sugar lips) started talking booty calls.

604P was not impressed when she took a table tally, that the majority of folks present they would happily ditch her during a friend night out if they were all of a sudden propositioned with a booty call.

Which lead us to said discussion, where do we draw the lines with the booty call? And specifically, when is it ok, if ever to put your friendship on the line and head into booty call territory?

What sort of criteria are we working with here?

Is it length of said friendship? Is it to avoid a sexless month?

But maybe before we answer the questions above, we need to actually ask ourselves why aren’t some friendships worth more than a little bit of action?

When did friendships become Bic lighters and booty calls become a birth right?

Now this seems more common than not among my girlfriends and I. This goes beyond the cuddle propositions, and rather straight into direct requests for a booty call.

Now I have made it clear in the blog how much I enjoy running with the boys, and this statement is really about how much I love having strong, solid friendships with men. However, it is not flattering, and it is not an honour when these guys that you trust, and love as friends, think they can move into booty call territory and that this is their birth right, as part of ‘putting in the time’ with us girls over the years.  Instead it signifies disrespect, and that they don’t value our friendship and that they would rather have a second, or 10, of action over keeping our friendship.

I know in a way I am calling the kettle black here, as the same could be said for my blog and birth rights. I am airing out a lot of dirty laundry, and even with fake names, most of my people will be able to read between the lines and realize that in fact I am potentially calling someone out on their bull shit. Does this mean I have Bic lighter friendships? I hope not. Ok, so then does it mean I think blogging as my birth right? Well that is a matter of opinion, but hey this is Canada, we do have freedom of speech and I believe that stories are best told, rather than put to bed, sans booty call.

 

 

earthquakes & coreshakers.

11:40pm, Dec 29, 2015. The earth moved for us Vancouverites. Like moved. Literally. My whole house swayed. I was woken from a dead sleep, I waited it out, I knew this was an earthquake, my third is total that  I had experienced over my time spent living in earthquake prone countries, but this was the worse to date. Finally, thinking it was over, I opened my bedroom door, turned the lights on in the hallway, and heard Red scream at me ‘Jo!!!! WTF, is it the apocolypse??’ Nope, sorry Red, just the earthquake they have been predicting for years.

Laura Lee actually just thought it was the raccoons climbing the Ivy outside her pad, and that they had gained weight over the holidays, rather than the earth moving. Bless her.

The next day, everyone and their dog is out getting an earthquake prep kit, or making their own. Yes, at the end of the day, this is our insurance, and our peace of mind. We can in fact protect ourselves from a natural disaster to a large degree. What we cannot protect ourselves from as easily is a relationship disaster.The core shaker.

With Earthquakes, the prediction time for the disaster is minutes, maybe even seconds, and sometimes it feels like the same can be said for relationships. Even worse, when a relationship ends unexpectedly and it is a core shaker. I’ve had a couple, ok fine maybe more like a few. The ones you really take to heart, the ones that ache, hurt, cause the tears, and sometimes the warning time again here is minutes, seconds, and then it has officially been called off. these are core shakers. Those in the dating pool dread these.

But its really double edge, or double sided (wink wink 604P) because what we are really after though, as gluten for punishments, risk takers, are core shakers, we think this will be a good thing. We mostly seek the relationships that will change us, shape us, sustain our needs, vulnerability is welcome here, heartbreak is not. And really why not? If it doesn’t change you was it actually worth investing time into?

And then of course, you look at what happens post quake or shake.  Now, it is time for the rebuild. You bring yourself out of the rubble, you assess the situation, and eventually you realise everything is going to be ok, and even better than it was in the beginning, pre quake. You go forward, maybe a bit more cautious, absolutely wiser, and maybe you even have your own core shaker kit handy, Ketel One in the freezer, Thai delivery on speed dial, in my case Red and Serena around for a good laugh, Max and Sam for a kitchen dance party, 604P with a rebound guy in her back pocket, a Friday night at Joey, and most importantly, the belief that the best is really yet to be without settling for anything less.

charades and assholes.

I’m going to make a bold statement and say that everyone we know is living a charade in some form or another. You know, the smoke and mirrors, the wizard behind the curtain, the Pleasantville, the faux smiles, the bullshit.

Why? Charades are comfortable. Like a big blanket you put on in the winter when you’re cold.

Every Christmas, in attempts to mitigate the drama filled Christmas days fueled by a blended family, my mother insisted we play charades. My brother and I dreaded this, we usually looked for an exit strategy, and apparently last year my one cousin from the Maritimes actually put his foot down  and told my mother ‘No Aunt T, no way, I will never ever ever play that game’

So we hate playing the charade game, but we are happy to live a charade day to day, huh, funny that.

It reaffirmed to me that people are quite comfortable turning an blind eye and living a charade when I went through my divorce. It amazed me how few family members and friends reached out when they found out the news. I can literally count on one hand those that reached out and asked if I was ok. It was like there was the quintessential pink elephant sitting in everyones living room, and it was just much easier to be Ray Charles than to acknowledge it. Also, it so much easier to reach out during happier times, or when a death occurs. As a species we are terrible with dealing with things in limbo, or in awkward. I think this is because we are fearful of what the answer will be when we ask someone if they are ok. And this needs to change, We need to stop being afraid of the answer being ‘no I’m not’.  Sometimes all that person needs, is someone to ask if they are ok, and sometimes they will need more, be compassionate, ask the question, wake up, be the change.

I felt like perhaps I was living my own Vancity charade after writing “the 12 men of Vancouver” I had thought I had covered the bases, so to speak, while I acknowledged it was likely not a be all end all list, it was a start to help successful, professional single women in Vancouver navigate the new dating scene. However, after the post went live, I was inindated with texts from girlfriends, ‘WTF you forgot the asshole’ the 13th man.

Ok, look, I was high off my 2015 encounter with Gabby Bernstein, inspired to live a more grateful and miraculous life, to be compassionate,  working on my yoga/meditation game and my general Pollyanna disposition I suppose I did forget about the asshole.

The asshole really just needs to be avoided all together.

Unfortunately, assholes or asshole hybrids sometimes sneak past the family border and infiltrate an otherwise blissful existence.

I have lived this first hand, and it is the opposite of fun, but as everything chaotic that has entered into my life has given me material for this blog, I will treat this ordeal as something anecdotal to share and be shared.

Now, in my research I know many people raise their hand high and commiserate on the asshole family infiltration issue.

If your hand is still raised, keep it high my friends. Now next question, does asshole allow you to enter into the house when you would like to see your mother when you are visiting from out of town?

Hands down?

Oh and does  said asshole say that despite your numerous University degrees, ability to live on your own as a successful single woman in one of the most expensive cities in the world without prostituting yourself like one of his own daughters, means that you, yes thats right you, make poor life choices?

Is the cheese standing alone at this point?

So this situation has been in existence for over a year, and it is the pink contaminated elephant in the room, no one wants to touch it, but what kills me is that asshole is not blood, he doesn’t have longevity in the family, and it seems to me the behaviour is being tolerated, the pink elephant is in residence, he’s invited in, and everyone knows the first rule of thumb, never invite the asshole in.

Oh no wait, that rule applies to Vampires doesn’t it? Vampire, asshole, tomato, tomatoe…. unless its one of those super hot true blood vampires, then he can take up residence in my life anytime…

Back to real assholes, well I’ve come to accept some people want to continue on living a charade, and in this case it really is as they say, ignorance is bliss.

But for this girl?

Please excuse me while my poor life choices and I go on and absolutely own 2016.

the 12 men of Vancouver.

Inspired by a gong show, attending of one of the many ’12 pubs of Christmas pub crawls’ hosted over the past couple of weekends in our beautiful west coast Metropolis, and while piecing together a very eventful shenanigan filled Saturday on Sunday morning, via snapchat and sent texts, Max, Sam and I determined that you can successfully categorise the majority of Vancouver men into 12 types. Now ladies, there are likely some hybrids here, so don’t get hung up if you can’t quite pin your prospect into one category.

1. Migrant – new to Van, like fresh off the boat so to speak. This is tricky territory, he could either end up latching on to you, and move from migrant status to Knob status, or he will move from migrant to player status. This will likely depend on his accent, his looks and his motive.
2. The Knob– the knob, the cling on, or the dryer sheet. These guys are a bit daft. They never get the hint that things are over, or you were never really that interested to begin with, they might be cute, but also cocky, and oblivious. If you are by nature a nice girl, it will be like trying to get gum off your Valentinos. Damn you.
3. Movie guy – The film industry in Van is massive,  at some point you are bound to start dating Movie guy. Exciting in a sense because Movie guy can introduce you to other industry folks, and they have great work stories! But you know it is a red flag when even Movie Guy recommends you don’t date Movie Guy, apparently some are a bit strange. And long hours, so basically you will still be single, but without the running with the boys hall pass/research grant.
4. Grousers – Grousers are great, our gorgeous Prime Minister is a grouser, they rock the grind in a sick time, they do tough mudder in Whistler each year, they pound the seawall for a warm up, they SUP in English Bay. The only question here you have to ask yourself is what do they do when they aren’t on the go?
5. The Player– not unique to Vancity, for the player, it is ‘babe’ ‘hun’  He won’t bother to remember your name because there is no point, and you’re going to be one of at least 3 on the go. His doorman/concierge is likely to be his wingman.
6. The Vancity nice guy – these guys are great, but can be borderline dull. Like they’ve been so focused on being nice, because they realise this is a competitive advantage for them, but they forgot about assessing their other assets (another blog to come)
7. The Jetsetter – YVR may be home for a portion of their time, but they also frequent SFO, LAX, NYC etc. Not bad, but you need to make sure you have a really good level of trust and communication here. I personally like the jetsetter, because they get my ‘on the road’ lifestyle, they can also be a bit older and act as a mentor, they tend to also have mad respect for the ambitious working girl. However, it could be a slippery slope here into playerville. (reference – read CEO, Cadillac and Choking for more info)
8. Johnny Canuck – this guy is like the equivalent to 604P, but on the male side. Totally Vancouver born and raised, loves all things Vancouver, and knows the hidden gems of the city. Say you’re a transplant or migrant, my girl, get to know  and date a Johnny Canuck at least once.
9. Mr. Main St. – not quite hipster, not quite East Van, not quite west end. Mr. Main St. is trendy, educated, professional. He will actually take you to the good spots on Main, and you will feel like you fit in, as he knows everyone. Only thing is he doesn’t really like to venture out to other areas of the city, he likes the Main St vibe too much. Commitment is great, monotony is not.
10. The Chameleon – oh you like happy hour at Joey’s? Me too! Oh your favourite pub in Gastown is Lamplighter? Samesies! The Chameleon also has likely lived in every major hood, 6 months in Yaletown, 6 months in the west end, 6 months on the drive. Chameleons resist commitments in real estate, friend groups and women.
11. Shore guy, shore thing – North shore guys are great, not necessarily as pretentious as the downtown downtown folks and not quite into slacker territory. They tend to be slightly more active, sailing, grousing, Whistler. Only thing here is the potential resistance to cross the Lions Gate for social engagements. This could potentially be a  move into red flag territory here (1okm radius). But I like these guys, they are well rounded, genuine, and a step up from the Nice Guy. They have assessed their assets so to speak.They tend to be older, so if your thing is Silver Foxes, Shore guy may in fact be your shore thing.
12. Kits dude – literally dude. Potentially California transplants. Or guys who moved out west from the prairies/central Canada but never really got south due to visa restrictions, or by choice. Hey thats cool, no need to be a Venice beach dude, Kits in the summer is great. And Kits dude is perfect for a summer romance. Bonfires on the beach, walks at sunset, and if you want to jump from the shade on the patio of  his condo to the beach to work on your tan while he plays beach volleyball, this is a great deal. But what do you do once the summer romance is over?

So there you have it, after a couple of weekends of hard research in the trenches, and collaboration from Max, Sam, 604P, Nic, this is where we are at. Depending on where you are based, please add your wisdom in the comments section. Ladies, sharing is caring.

 

 

shalom.

 

In the spirit of Christmas, my mother has said that forgiveness would be a gift to myself when I realised I was ready to let the past go and then  she suggested I also bless X. I bless the past. I bless the experience and then release it. She said my Aunt A had done this way back in the day with her first husband through a very yucky split, and that for her the blessing bit worked well. Now we are not a religious family, and I am pretty sure the only things my Aunt A blesses now are the Calgary Stampeders and a young greased up Rarotongan dancer from the Cook Islands.

I needed a second opinion, Serena, so sensible,  said that forgiveness is taking the power back, controlling your own thoughts and feelings, not giving that power to someone else, not letting them have the audacity to take up any space in your mind.if it exists in your mind then it exists in your life. So yes, bless it and let it go.

Tech-Man said screw forgiveness and blessings,  just let it go, have a drink, call it a day.

I decided what I really wanted, aside from a drink, and a million dollars, was to let it go.

I decided I want peace for myself, so therefore should I forgive.

But doesn’t everyone want peace? There always seems to be something that leaves us feeling off, and once we realise we can actually let that shit go because it isn’t actually serving a purpose in our lives, we feel better, we sleep better and we live better.

I have always believed that you get exactly what you need at the exact right time, and that when the universe speaks to you, listen up. For me this tends to happen in odd places.

One of the perks of my job is attending client events/conferences as a vendor. On a very gross grey Friday morning, one particular client happened to have a priest (you saw that coming didn’t you?) who was also a clinical psychologist  the keynote, speak about Shalom.

Priest said that technically, Shalom means hello, peace, well wishing, all that lovely warm and fuzzy stuff. However, it is all about completeness, and wholeness, so if you wish someone Shalom, what it really means is I hope you get all that is coming to you, and he kept coming back to this point, that Shalom means I hope you get  all that is coming to you. So that’s everything, inclusive, nothing left out. I dig it.

This kind of Shalom sounds like something I can work with. It smells like karma and kind of tastes like karma, but even better because its Shalom.

Peace.

Forgiveness.

Karma.

Shalom.

So today, coming to the end of 2015, and in honour of releasing the past, I will have that stiff drink, hold out for a millionaire (I mean million dollars) and I say with a smile, Shalom.