The Ultimate Twenty-Something Bucket List - OMFG

My newsfeed is always full of articles with titles such as 30 Places to See Before You Die, 20 Roadtrips to Take in Your Twenties, and, well, you get the gist. Even I'm guilty of posting a bucket-list type article every so often! But, that's where it ends, at merely posting it. Dreaming of living and living the dream are two very different things and for most of us, dreaming is the furthest we go. Being proactive is scarce when your comfort zone is -- well pretty damn comfortable.

I'd like to think I've led a relatively interesting life. A good amount of travel, some crazy experiences, and a few utter last minute decisions where I've packed up and just gotten the hell out of this city for more than a vacation because I could. But, even with all I've done, I still feel as though I've only written one chapter, if that, in the Great Canadian Novel that is to be my life. (Note: the only chapter fully written would be that on desserts. I am an expert.)

With that I present to you my twenty-something bucket list! Not simply a list of things I haven't done, like the bucket lists I wrote when I was little were comprised of; (Swim with dolphins: check!), but a proper twenty-something bucket list of experiences. Really effing awesome experiences.

Be an artist.

We all know right-brained people are taking over the world. It's all about the creative class nowadays and to create is an essential part of the twenty-something (and beyond!) experience. With so many outlets at our artistic disposal, and with even more social mediums to share the creative process than ever, being an artsy-fartsy has never been more accessible. Sounds intimidating, but I'm not looking to mastermind the next Jay-Z interactive performance art installation here (yet, anyway) -- brush to canvas, camera to travel, anything so long as they get the creative juices going! Start small then go big...but always be creating. 

Be an explorer.

I'm in about the same physical shape as a couch. (See: dessert expert chapter) Skinny, yes, but more of a plump skinny-fat, if you will. While not exactly motivated by physical activity, I very well know that some of the most raw and spectacular places on Earth are only accessible to those who pick their asses up off the ground and move. Machu Picchu has always been a trek I've wanted to hike, as well as some of the crazy river paths in Southeast Asia. River Monsters is, I kid you not, one of my favorite shows. Getting into shape in order to see big-ass scary monster fish halfway across the world? Um, I literally cannot think of a better reason. 

An ultimate foodie experience.

While dessert is the love of my life, I'm a fan of food in general. There's pretty much nothing I won't try and there's quite a lot of unappealing delicacies I rather enjoy. (Weird animal innards, weird animals and what have you -- bring it on.) I've been lucky enough to dine at some of the best restaurants in the world but I've still yet to have an ultimate foodie experience. I came pretty close in Tokyo, seeing the Tsukiji Fish Market in action then eating hands-down the best sushi of my life -- but there's still much to see, and most importantly taste, for me in the culinary realm. Truffle hunting, cooking lessons in Tuscany, the full farm-to-plate experience...I could go on. My stomach is rumbling already.

Learn a new language.

The two languages I speak are English, and a made up language my best friend taught me that she learned from camp when we were in junior high. Yup. So there's definitely room for me to grow in that department! Rather than go the Rosetta Stone route, to get a check-off on this list I require learning it first-hand by immersing myself in another culture. Think Under The Tuscan Sun except everyone is twenty years younger. Soaking in another culture is the most cliched of all bucket list experiences but it's for a reason -- quintessential to knowing what you want is educating yourself on all your options, the world over. Soak it all in, kids.

Fall in love....unconditionally.

This may be the hardest one on this bucket list of all. Falling in love in your twenties is no easy feat -- stupid crap we carry around from past trysts, pressure to make the most of the decade life-experience-wise while simultaneously having to somehow figure out our futures makes it damn near impossible. However if you do find that little needle of love in the dating haystack, do it properly and give it a fair chance. No inhibitions, no defense mechanisms and entirely whole-heartedly. Goodness knows I've messed up more than a few relationships with my insecurities and over-thinking. It's easier said than done and there's no guarantee it will be painless, but you never know until you truly try. Stupid crap, begone!

We all know that the times you dive head-first outside your comfort zone are simply the best. Like, the freaking best. They're thrilling, they're scary and they're unpredictable --  all in exciting and momentum-fueled ways. We all get to know ourselves much better when we're in the unknown rather than idly coasting along. This list is merely one I've set for myself; revise it, personalize it, but most importantly make one that gets you outside your comfort zone. The world awaits.

x

OMFG -- Is there REALLY such thing as The One?

In a word, no.

But, let's not be entirely cynical and jaded now. Let's take a twenty-something's experience-provoked look at the matter, shall we?

I think it's safe to say that we have all, hopeless romantic or not, pondered whether the idea of there being one perfect person for each of us out there exists. You know, a soul mate! A Romeo to Juliet, a Jack to Rose, a little old man from Up! to the little old lady from Up! A destined being who loves us as we are, flaws and all, and we them, and rainbows and unicorns and butterflies and whatever.

I, more than anyone, desired this to be true. (Excuse me while I get a bit maudlin for a second..) My parents, a perfect union present my entire life have a marriage going on 38 years strong now. They moved here from Hong Kong in 1975, married, and have worked as a team together to build not only a happy marriage, but a happy life for my siblings and I. Soul mates? I believed ever since I was little that if ever a thing such existed, it existed in my parents.

But alas, being the starry-eyed girl I was, entering the dating scene with such an unrealistic idea of love in my head proved to be quite challenging. With my skewed vision, I thought if it was meant to be, it would be easy. And to be passionately in love was an overwhelming, Earth-shattering feeling that would never end. Um, nope! Not at all. I don't need to tell you guys that relationships are hard. Effort, compromise, tact and all that jazz in general. 

Love is nice but never enough. I hear of fewer and fewer couples who choose to stay together when the odds are against them. It is an opportunistic, cut-throat, defensive jungle out there and once we go a little awry, it is much easier to dispose than salvage. When all of us are meeting a million new people a mile a minute, the odds of finding some one better just seem that much more tantalizing, now don't they?

But perhaps in our quick-to-jump-ship minds, we've abandoned those who could of been The One material. Destiny is a nice notion, but you can't just expect to lay back and let the universe do the work. Like Blair Waldorf once quipped: "Destiny is for losers. It's just a stupid excuse to wait for things to happen instead of making them happen." Not that Blair was the epitome of wise relationship advice, or any advice really, but this gem of a quote certainly rings true. 

Make things happen. Don't expect The One to suddenly appear in your life but rather work at relationships with significant others you deem worth your while. Who knows, you might just cultivate a soul mate along the way. Or at the very best, some rainbows and unicorns and butterflies...or whatever.
x

OMFG - Do Nice Guys Actually Finish Last?

In the past little while I've read a plethora of articles online about how hard nice guys have it. Mostly opinion, some satire. (Think Vice, Elite Daily, that sort of thing.) They've all been interesting, slightly offensive, and mildly accurate, at best. They do, however, all come to one sad conclusion: in the dating game, nice guys finish dead last. My goodness, what is it about us silly, emotional, self-hating women that causes us to love assholes and make nice guys so utterly miserable? Aren't we just the worst?

Well no. I love how all these articles single-handedly blame women for the demise of the Nice Guy. We're just begging to be treated like shit, apparently, so men oblige as if they're doing us a favor. Here's the thing: women who are happily dating nice guys don't go on writing rampages about it. They also don't rant to all their friends about it. So in truth, the Nice Guy who is happily in a relationship gets a lot less press than the scorned one. And of course he gets a whole lot less press than the Asshole who walks away from his dealings with girls like men in skinny ties and sunglasses walk away from explosions in movies. When it comes to love, we talk about our problems, not our happiness. (No one would of gone to see The Notebook if they just went and got married after happily dating, now would they.)

In my twenty six years of dating, and in my twenty six years of girl friends sharing their stories of the perils of dating, I can truly say there is nothing wrong with nice guys. I welcome them. The problem with dating nice guys is how nice they are in comparison to you...it's the scale of relativity for niceness. Not kidding! For example, I was too nice for one ex (practically an angel in his eyes) and ultimately the devil in the eyes of my next ex. One just happened to be more apt to bad behavior and wavering morals while the other was black and white in his principles. Each saw me accordingly. (Model, promoter, party-loving, flighty, and ice cold when provoked...yet intensely close to my family, university educated, and overly caring and loyal. Confusing, I get it.) It's not that girls don't like nice guys...it's that girls don't like guys that are nicer than they are.

The whole damsel in distress ploy is a thing of the past. Unless a girl is seriously damaged, there's no need for any saving to be done. We're looking for an equally distressed dude to come along for the ride. I've always said, it's not about finding a partner in life, but a partner in crime. This doesn't mean a rag-tag looking, authority-defying, cad of a man, but simply some one who treats me well because he thinks I'm freaking awesome...and not because he's trying to be the Nice Guy.

Apparently I've been blind to a nice guy or two trying to garner my attention, as my girl friends have pointed out. The argument of nice being boring comes to mind, but really, it's just that sparks didn't fly! Nice or not nice, you need the zsa zsa zou to get any relationship going. So men, quit trying to be the Nice Guy and just be the Awesome Dude...i.e. yourself. We smart girls are bound to see what's real and what's fake sooner than you'd think.

So no, we don't want to be stood up, ignored, lied to or treated like shit in general. We like real men who can handle themselves and us as well without relying on stupid little archetypes. The Asshole might not finish last, and neither does the Nice Guy...but you know who does? The Whiny Nice Guy. x

OMFG...How Long Will Your Summer Fling Last?

As the sun beats hot and heavy during the day and the air is warm and inviting at night, we all can't help but get a little twitterpated with the season. (That's college talk for horny, in case you didn't know.) That wise little owl called it when he told Bambi, "Oh yes, nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime." Less clothes, more hooking up, to put it bluntly. And so, with copious flings to be flung here, there, and everywhere, just how does one know what will last and what won't? Allow me to help you, darling bloggees: the Ultimate Guide to How Long Your Summer Fling Will Last based on where and how you met...shall we?

Where?
At the club.

How long will it last?
One night - a few months
This one is not as obvious as you'd think. Sure, one night stands are the result of many a club night but there are lots of decent people who go out as well. (Yes, I'm a promoter and perhaps biased, but the truth is clubs aren't just for flashy drug-addled scene kids.) Granted that you both can go out together without getting into stupid drunk fights, a relationship can endure. However, let's face it, these whirlwind, drunk, dancey, showy bonds tend to fizzle after a few months when the infatuation is over. Usher can sing it, but it ain't the truth: there's no real love in this club.

Will there be fallout?
Oh god yes. Lots, and lots, and lots of never-ending fallout. Listen, if they picked you up at the club, they're going to do it again. And again. And again. And chances are you're going to have to see it grinding and getting nasty all up in your drunk face every time you go there. Clubs = stomping grounds. Either get a new one or find a way to get your ex out of there. (Slipping the bouncer a smile and a crisp fifty does the trick, but you didn't hear that from me..)

Where?
At a music festival.

How long will it last?
Two weeks.
Unless it was some sort of classical music festival, chances are you and your potential love were decidedly NOT sober upon meeting. Bonding intensely over music is a strong connection...and surely drugs and whatever else you ingested there made it seem stronger. A couple weeks worth of fun jaunts, skipping around together while wearing cut-offs and holding hands, and you've got yourself a cute little summer fling, but not much else.

Will there be fallout?
Nah. Just make sure your Bonnaroo ticket is in V.I.P. while they can mingle in the general admission area.. far away from you. 

Where?
Online.

How long will it last?
One date or forever.
Stigma or no stigma, I've heard more than a few success stories when it comes to meeting companions via online dating. Granted, I'm referring to online dating sites with tedious and in-depth profiles such as Lava Life or eHarmony as opposed to, say Tinder, which is essentially the online equivalent of scanning faces at a bar. But, I've also heard more than a few horror stories where expectation and reality of the person were worlds apart...so generally a summer fling via online dating goes one of two ways: 1) you venture out on one disastrous first date where you find out "entrepreneur" actually meant "lives in mom's basement and jots down ideas every once in a while" and never respond to them again or 2) you venture out on one highly compatible first date that leads to something solid. High risk, but high reward.

Will there be fallout?
Nope. The best part about online anything is the anonymity. You can disappear online as quickly as click, click, click. But, avoid their favorite restaurants and any other hot spots they listed in their profile...just to be safe.

Where?
Your phone book...in other words the Ex.

How long will it last?
Until the end of summer.
Here's the thing with exes -- if it didn't work out once, it probably isn't going to work again. Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Well, I was definitely insane then when it came to a few of my exes. They haven't changed, and neither have you. But, there's always going to be that initial spark, i.e. the reason you got together in the first place. And with that spark, a lack of other options, the comfort of familiarity, and that optimistic ambiance that comes with this damn summer air...some times, you're bound to relapse. It'll be great for a bit but then crumble and crumble hard. Annoying habits, different goals, real jobs or just plain incompatibility cuts harsh without the summer blanket to cover it. If it's a mistake you have to make, so be it. But you know what they say; insane in the membrane, insane in the brain. (You're insane. Duh.)

Will there be fallout?
Hells to the yes. Be prepared for both of you to get all crazy possessive like when you initially broke up: as in social media stalking each other to see who's hooking up with who post-break-up and if these new people are in fact new or people who came between you before. Just thinking about the fallout is giving me a headache. Oy.

Where?
At T.I.F.F.

How long will it last?
One night...if that.
Is him/her famous? Did they say they had an "agreement" with his/her well-known significant other? Did his/her handler approach you and pick you up instead of him/her personally? Was he/she kind of an elusive asshole up until the hook-up? Are you super naive? Do you see where I'm going with this?

Will there be fallout?
Are you famous? No? Then no.

Where?
At work.

How long will it last?
One year - long term.
Ah, work. A somewhat sane and stable environment to meet people within! You'll know you can put up with them on a day to day basis (you work together after all), and you know you have similar lifestyles and goals (again..you work together.) Add a little chemistry and charm and you've got yourself one legit summer fling...and possibly more! Oh, should you work in the modeling, nightlife, fitness, events, concert, and/or the fashion industry....none of this applies to you. Good luck to us all. (#foreveralone)

Will there be fallout?
Obviously. The saying don't shit where you eat exists for a reason. As long as it doesn't end nastily, the fallout can be minimal. You're seeing each other in a professional and not leisure setting, so after what might be a few weeks/months of awkward interactions, getting back to strictly business is totally possible.

And there you have it lovelies, a guide to summer flinging! Regardless of where you meet them, all we can ever do in romance is find some one you like and roll the dice.  It's inevitable, it's fun and goodness, it's finally summer...so like the wise owl said, get a twitterpatin'. x

Online Dating - Yay or Nay?

While gorging on lobster spoons and too many desserts during lunch the other day (and really, all good conversation should occur in between bites of lobster spoons) my friends introduced me to an online way of meeting people I had never heard of. And by meeting, I mean potentially banging. After whipping out his iPhone and opening the app, my friend swiftly swiped his hand over the screen, each time revealing the Facebook profile picture of  a girl which he either yayed or nayed. What was this ridiculousness? An app called Tinder. Should some girl you yayed also yay you -- and voila, you now have the feigned online confidence to send her all the creepy winky emojis you'd like.

I was baffled that there was even the demand for an app like Tinder to exist. Is this what we've come to nowadays? Starting interactions based on (likely Photoshopped) Facebook selfies that turn into a series of well-calculated, overly-wrought interactions that lead to, what I can only imagine, are painfully awkward real life meetings? It appears so. Perhaps I'm one of the rare hopeless romantics left out there, but any, seriously any, real life meeting is more romantic and natural than some contrived shoving together of online personas. Seriously, ANY. Drunken club meets look like Ariel and Prince Eric in the canoe compared to this crap.

 Those browsing on something like Tinder probably aren't looking for lasting relationships...but what about those of us who are? Is there a way to meet a legit candidate online that doesn't make you want to lie about how you've met to people when they ask? Sure, the stigma of online dating is less than it was, say ten years ago, with young professionals leading insanely busy, no-nonsense lives -- but still, we can all admit it's not an ideal beginning. "And mommy met daddy by desperately searching through countless trolls and deciding he was the least hideous of the list. Ahh, romance."

I've signed up for eHarmony before. Once, while my then-boyfriend looked on as we laughed about what matches would pop up, and again just recently for the sake of this post. (Yes, I've already deleted the profile and no, I didn't respond to any interactions. Observation only, kids.) Their maudlin, everlasting-love themed commercials always do a number on my sappy self and if I was going to sign up for any dating site, I decided it would be this one. So, dear bloggees, what did my experience reveal? Basically what I thought going into it. It's creepy. It's weird. And it feels awfully unnatural. (Upon revealing that I had signed up for an account to my sister over brunch, she promptly looked horrified, told me to delete it, and said that I was 'prey' just waiting for online lurkers to hunt me down. This did not help.)

After filling out an extensive personality questionnaire which included sections on morals, looks, lifestyle, and more, I was shown my potential 'matches' who were specifically picked out for me. And I must say, the pickings were slim. Despite being 5"10, anti-sports and urban-minded, I kept receiving icebreakers from outdoorsy, sport-loving 5"6 men from small towns outside Toronto. Fail, eHarmony. Fa to the ail. Regardless of the not-so-plenty of fish in the online dating sea, I just couldn't get over the concept of it all. There's no mystery, No whimsy. And not a shred of wonder to any of it. Even if Channing Tatum had appeared in my matches, I could never bring myself to send an icebreaker over the freaking computer to a guy I was potentially interested in.

The whole experience merely reaffirmed what I already know: I'm a hopeless romantic living in a non-romantic world. Woe is me. But I'll take my chances in the real world of meeting people over the constructed world of meeting profiles any day. All the info I had listed on my profile is meant to be revealed over candid conversation, flirty arm touches, too many whiskey sours and, most importantly, over many, many lobster spoons -- not over clicks of a keyboard. Until next time darling bloggees, I'll see you in the flesh and blood. x
 

Universal Heartbreak, OMFG

Heartbreak....the universal equalizer. No matter how nice, how caring, how beautiful, or on the contrary, how scummy, ruthless and less than lovely one is, we have all been heartbroken by the time we're in our mid twenties. It's the one experience that brings us down to Earth, and one we can all relate to. I've heard two people who have entirely nothing in common...even a slight hatred for each other...bond over deep conversation of a messy break up. Once you've had that gut-wrenching, devastatingly empty feeling hit your stomach and work its way up to your heart, all you want to do is share the misery with others.

Why have I chosen to revive my darling little blog over such a dismal subject? Take a wild guess. Oh, that's right, I've just been equalized. Just a little over a year after already being equalized SO harshly that I thought I'd never experience an equalizing ever again. Turns out, I was wrong. I'm beginning to think I've a slight penchant for sadism when it comes to my love life. Every guy I've fallen for seems to agree.

All right, all right. I won't go all pity party on myself. This break up is actually (praise the heavens above) a lot less painful than my first was. Nothing quite gets you like first love...we're all a little wiser after that psychotic, spellbinding and utterly magical experience we go through with the first people we are mutually infatuated with. No, this time around I've been something of a schizophrenic headcase. It's a little wallowing in misery followed by overly feminist man-bashing followed by analytical "where did it all go wrong!?" bouts, and capped off finally with am I a good person?! Is he?! spazzes. (Yes, and to-be-decided are the answers to those, in case you were wondering.) This is all interspersed with social media creeping and torturing myself with touching memories we shared all but two weeks ago.

The silver lining on this cloud of gray is that I firmly believe everything happens for a reason. It has thus far in my life, and will continue to. Something, or some one, leaves your life so you can appreciate some one better soon on their way. We are one hundred percent of the time exactly where we are supposed to be in life at that very moment. Skeptics may write this off as comforting malarkey us down-in-the-dumps souls use to make ourselves feel better but to them I say talk to me in a year. I guarantee you I will be happier in all areas of my life than I am today. You live and you learn -- it's really that simple. All that matters is progress; otherwise you're just standing still.

So even though I'm hurt and bewildered (this one unraveled quicker than a loose thread on a cashmere sweater) I'm functional and logical...and wiser. The first two aspects far eluded my first break up. If something can so quickly go from good to horrible to worse, than it wasn't what I thought it was in the first place. Anyone who is nice to you while you're together but horrible to you the second you're done was never a nice person to start with. Let's hope the next fiasco is less of a fiasco and more of a keeper.

Wallowing and sad I still am, but there's nothing time, a few good nights out, and copious amounts of Nutella and whatever excuse of a food I use as my Nutella vessels, cannot cure. Do I feel worthless? Not at all. Valueless? Maybe for a second but that quickly passes. Mostly I just feel human -- susceptible to falling in love when least expecting it and the vulnerability and hurt being in love inevitably brings. The great universal equalizer strikes again. Been there? Of course you have. Haven't we all.
x

OMFG - Friends With An Ex

I had dinner with an ex the other night. Not an ex but the ex. My first love who shattered, put back together, and shattered my heart again at least three times during our tumultuous (and that's putting it mildly) three year run. And it was, dare I say, a pleasant experience. Is it possible, that despite the hell we put each other through less than a year ago, we are now able to be friends? Apparently so.

If my ex and I are able to be friends, I can say with a large dose of certainty that most exes can find a spot in the friendship zone. We were, and I cannot stress this enough, volcanic together....pure red lava flowing from every faucet of our bond. We drove each other insane. I think of some of the actions I executed while together with him -- actions that at the time I proceeded to carry out as if they were perfectly normal -- and realize just how close to being exiled to an asylum I was. The same went for him. Passionately in love, sure. Psychotically close to the brink of total sadism, well yes, that as well. At the worst of times we made each other truly miserable and yet here we sat just a few nights ago laughing over our failed attempt at love over Pad Thai and greasy spring rolls.

The experience was liberating and one that made me feel ever so mature. Mature -- the very word gets thrown around carelessly in our twenties; most of the time as a way to try and differentiate oneself when drama arises. (Example: "OMG. I'm way too mature [eye roll] to even care what that bitch said about me. Like way. Too. Mature.") I'm guilty of being the girl who cried maturity on several occasions (us damn twenty-somethings...we've always got something to prove) but this time it wasn't total bullshit. It was a genuine feeling of calm and honesty; two things I never felt while we were dating.

We're not robots, of course, and memories are still memories. But, with enough time apart to get over any residual enabling emotions and the shared goal of actually wanting to be friends, the dinner occurred sans ulterior motives on either end. Why bother, you ask? Because I rather be friends with shared memories than strangers with a shared past. Care, for me at least, isn't an item that comes with an expiry date. It is strictly non-perishable.

As we verbally sifted through our romantic history, there was no nitpicking of this transgression or that indiscretion but simply a recap of the good times. It's true what they say; when you think back on all the big moments of your life, it's the joyful ones that stick the most. Does time heal everything? Nope. But it sure does give us room to grow. Damn, I'm mature.

x

Shit happens. Keep calm & move on....OMFG

My purse committed suicide last week. Okay...that's not entirely true. I may of assisted in its murder. In my defense, I was drunk. No -- drunk is not a sufficient enough word to describe the state I was in. I was totally, ridiculously, insanely and outrageously wasted. It was the end of the night on my 25th birthday last week and as I stumbled out of the cab to get home (in 4-inch heels, no less), I left my beautiful black purse in the backseat, thus committing the first crime of my quarter century year: pursicide.

One wallet, $200, one passport, a driver's license, health card and several bracelets later I learned my first lesson of the latter half of my twenties: shit happens. Keep calm and move on. The first part of that lesson has never been my forte. A highly emotionally-charged being, I'm prone to freaking-the-fuck out when shit hits the proverbial fan. Mostly on the inside, some times on the outside, and always electronically. My poor Droid has received the brunt end of my emotional lashings via endless texting spazzes and even a few throws...thank goodness for hard box cases. What do these freak-outs do? Next to nothing.

Besides dehydrating me via the massive amount of water I expel through my overused tear ducts, having mini meltdowns over ex-boyfriends this, missing out on that and everything else that tends to cause me stress just makes it worse. I always tease my barely emotional friends for being robots, but at times I wonder if life really is easier with the ability to suppress any uncomfortable feelings. Unluckily for me, I'm a freakin' feelings monster who seems to thrive on functioning at a wavelength that only prepubescent girls and I can hear.

And much to my recent dismay, immaturity is exactly what I've come to realize freaking out amounts to. I'm twenty five now for goodness sake; I think it's time I get a handle on two things: 1) that exes suck balls and 2) that my emotions can't run my life. Mr. Roboto, I never will be, but there's definitely room to improve emotional intelligence-wise. I know my tear ducts will thank me later.

Suddenly one wallet, $200, one passport, a driver's license, health card and several bracelet's doesn't seem like such a high price to pay for one darn good realization: taking control of things that affect me negatively and making them not is entirely in my hands. A wise man (ahem, Thomas Neary) once told me progress is the key to happiness...ending teenage emotional sprees at twenty five may be late, but it is progress nonetheless. From pursicide to epiphanies -- it's all about taking negative experiences and transitioning into positive realizations. Shit happens. Freak out momentarily. Keep calm, keep smiling, and move the fuck on.

x

OMFG - How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days

So I turn 25 in less than a month. The horror is slowly sinking in. As a model, I'm ancient, but as a single girl in the city, I'm somewhere in between a hopeless romantic and an "all men are scum" mindset. Lately, I've been leaning towards the latter. What it is about men in this city that makes dating so...so...difficult? Before I go on, allow me to inform those of you who don't me: I'm university educated, attractive (after 9 a.m....mornings and I do not, I repeat do NOT mix), social, and, from what I've been told, pretty darn fun to be around. I'm independent, don't wear fake hair, always order dessert, and think that superhero movies are awesome. Why am I going all e-harmony on you, darling readers? Because my love life (and those of my other single girlfriends) as of late has me inspired. As does watching this Kate Hudson classic on a Sunday night. How do us twenty-something girls on the scene lose a guy in ten (or more) days? Let me count the ways.

1) We go out.
I'm a promoter. As in, I get people into clubs and facilitate good times. What does this mean? That I'm out and about on average 4 times a week. What has this taught me? Men do NOT like girls who are exposed. Before turning my nightlife into something profitable, I was already a fixture on the scene. I love going out and did so when I was single, and while in a relationship. (Nothing like a partner in crime you can sleep with as well!) One year of promoting later and I pretty much know everyone who comes to our weekly parties. I spend my nights chatting with everyone and their mama at our events. Alas, a few men I've been on dates with have cringed at the thought of their girl being so openly social all the time. The girlfriends I have who come to almost all my nights are out just as much as I am. Yes, there are tons of less-than-desirable trashy girls who fit the description of club whore to a tee, but there are also normal girls who just like to dance! And we ain't gonna do it at home.

2) We look good.
I model on the side. Inevitably, I have a lot of model friends. And they all express the same woes with me, men-wise. It's a double-edged sword when it comes to having model status on the dating scene. On one hand, guys love the idea of dating not the girl in the dress, but the girl in the ad in the dress. On the other hand, by dating, I mean banging. Yup. It's either a) you're the first model they've ever been with and their male ego goes nuts after and they want to see what else they can get, b) they are massively insecure at the thought of model looks and self-sabotage or c) they are modelizers just in it for the chase. Bang bang, bye bye. This really applies to all hot chicks. Actually, just all girls in general.The heart wants what it wants, right? Well, so do the pants.

3) We're Carrie girls.
There's been a bit of an epidemic among my older guy friends lately. They all seem to be settling down with -- how shall I phrase this delicately -- Plain Janes. You know: boring, nice, sweet enough girls who just sit there smiling and giggling. They don't add much to conversations and look as if they put their outfits together via the style tips page in Cosmo. They're perfectly pleasant but they're just not, to me anyway, interesting. I love all my opinionated, sharp-witted, potty-mouthed, fashion-mistake making, risk-taking, mood-swinging girlfriends more than anything. All the ridiculousness they get into, all the epic mistakes and comebacks they endure, and all the insane shenanigans they create make them worship material. As Carrie once quoted to the elation of interesting women everywhere: "Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free til they find some one just as wild to run with them." I have nothing against these Plain Janes (and if they make my friends happy, that's what matters) but Carrie's got a point. Where are the men who don't want Version 2.0 of their moms but a wild goddess to keep up with them? Or, keep up with us, is more like it!

4) We know what we want.
And for the overwhelming majority of my girls, that doesn't mean kids. At least not for a long while. I'm still remarkably uncomfortable around kids...maybe it's because they're smelly and loud (likely), or maybe it's because they remind me that I want to accomplish so much more before I can even consider having them. Of course I want kids one day (it would be a crime to humanity to not reproduce adorable Asian babies. You know they're the cutest. Don't even try and deny it.) but right now, I want a successful career, travel, and a Balenciaga Moto in every colour. Selfish? No. Just watch a few minutes of Teen Mom and my case is made. I don't know where my career will take me now, but I hope it takes me everywhere. My successful girl friends in the scene work similarly flexible jobs (DJing, fashion merchandising, modeling, etc.) and know that when an opportunity strikes, you jump on it. Being outwardly anti-child is, hmm, kind of the opposite of what men who want to date seriously are looking to hear; but kids or no kids, I rather jab my stiletto into my jugular than become a housewife.

5) We're picky.
I know what I'm worth. And it's a lot. I'm cocky by no means, but every healthy, happy individual has a good dose of self-confidence.That being said, I'm not willing to settle for less than I think I deserve. This sounds a lot bitchier than it is; I welcome complicated men (actually have quite the liking for them), am capable of empathetic understanding to the umpteenth degree and honest to goodness do not give a crap about income. However, slip-ups in how you treat me usually end with a brisk switch in my head from "potential" to "never". Where my adhesion is to good hearts and being treated well, all my other girl friends have there own  versions of criteria they're just as unwilling to deviate from. Handsome, kind, and interesting -- those are just the bare necessities.

There you have it guys and dolls. How to lose a guy in ten (or more) days, according to my recent love life and those of my similarly situation-ed girl friends! Let's recap here: gorgeous, ambitious, opinionated, decisive and socially-inclined women have become the pariahs of the dating scene? In that case, I think I'll be happily single. Carrie girls are a rare breed and, well, I really wouldn't have it any other way.

                                         Best scene.

x

OMFG - Location, Location, Location

They say songs and smells (surprisingly) are the best triggers for memories from the past, but I always find that locations invoke the strongest nostalgia for me. What is it about roaming the same streets that my friends and I once drunkenly caused mischief upon or being at the same playground my siblings and I grew up on that causes me to feel almost a physical gut feeling of deja vu?

Where this is especially vivid is when it comes to past relationships. As if technology hasn't made it hard enough to forget some connections I would rather not think of often.(Facebook is a graveyard for old relationships. I had some chick comment on a picture of my ex and I from over a year ago and it showed up on my newsfeed -- not to mention the newsfeeds of my over 1000 friends. I spent the night warding off questions of whether we were back together. Thanks, chick.) Perhaps I'm just over-sensitive (which, admittedly is not an unusual when it comes to matters of the heart) but there are some places I choose to avoid on purpose.

One would think any place where a pointed falling-out between old lovers occurred would be the most obvious but it's actually quite the opposite for me. Places where we fought --whatever --I really could care less. One more reminder of why not being with them now makes that much more sense. It's places where the happiest memories took place that pull on the heart strings. Central Park where we paddled on a boat amongst the ducks, that sushi place where we always ordered for each other and any other place where similarly maudlin, borderline nauseating, actions happened are emotional landmines.

Lucky for me, my last relationship was quite the globe-trotting one and unless I plan on going to London, Paris, and New York consecutively any time soon, I'm safe. Toronto has been my hometown and thankfully any sappy memories I had in various locales there have been erased or replaced by, well, new and better ones. No one takes my city away from me, after all.

I'm in Montreal for the weekend and some places are less pleasant than others. Sensitivity? Perhaps, but feelings are feelings. At the end of the day it comes to a decision: either mourn the loss of something that no longer exists or let them remain happy memories and nothing more. The latter is the sensible choice and one that I've been able to do only recently. For me, I know my life goes happy, happier, happiest -- sure what I had once was nice, but the best is yet to come. Everything for a reason -- a belief that's never steered me wrong thus far. Take that, Central Park.

OMFG - Twitterpated When Spring Hits

My brain feels like it's 75% mush lately. My emotions are nonsensical (well, more so than usual -- I didn't think that was possible either) and what was once irrational now seems entirely possible. Blame it on a fever...or, more like Spring fever.

Even you jaded cynics can agree that when the first truly warm day of spring hits Toronto, you get just a little more optimistic about, well, everything! Although our winter barely showed its claws, it was still cold (this is Canada after all) and this past week has been a turning point -- we're in the twenties for the remainder of it and it's only March. The result? A hot and heavy case of being twitterpated.

No, it's not some social media lingo, but quite the opposite. A throwback to good old fashioned, almost obsolete slang (we can add malarkey and hunky dory to that list), twitterpated is how the wise little owl in Bambi describes the animals come Springtime to the young fawn when he asks what's come over them. In other words, it's a darling way of saying coo coo for (horny) Cocopuffs. Nothing turns a girl's thoughts to love and companionship more than lovely weather.

My guy friends aren't immune to the disease as well as they've upped their game (the single ones anyway) in the chase. Added swag here, unjustified over-confidence there. Warm breezes, dewy air, flowy dresses and copious amounts of day drinking have that affect on the youthful population. Tail hunting aside, the best part of being twitterpated isn't the romance, but the air of optimism. All us broken, damaged, or heavily weighed down hearts seem to feel fresh again. What once seemed wretched and tiresome now seems carefree and naive. And is it ever a good feeling!

Sure, the results of being twitterpated aren't necessarily productive but some times you have to just give in to your surroundings and be a little frivolous. To my fellow romantics, once-jaded converts and mended hearts...that shit cray, and ain't it lovely?
x

OMFG - Happy Valentine's Day! (No, Really)

The single girl being bitter on Valentine's Day has been done to death in the media. Burning photos of exes, binge eating chocolates and being an overall weepy mess is an archetype we can recall from our favorite romantic comedies, past and present. (Jennifer Garner beating the crap out of a heart-shaped pinata in Valentine's Day, for one.)  Seeing that in the movies is one thing. Being that in real life is another.

It's just pointless to be a Debbie Downer on Valentine's Day. (Or as my friend Sean has called it for as long as I can remember, Single's Appreciation Day aka S.A.D...ha!) I've been there, done that, and it does nothing except make you more sad. Let me note that in all my 24 years I have never had a successfully romantic V-day. This includes three years with a boyfriend -- and that right there should succinctly tell you why we are no longer together. Still, with that pathetic romantic history in mind, I have no desire to throw rocks at PDA-ing couples or cringe at anything love related.

Aside from the occasional emotional landmine (certain songs are the worst..) I'm pretty much a happy camper on the love front. Any swaying in the other direction is quickly dispelled by the presence of my lovely parents and their flawless 56 year marriage. If being in the presence of true love for your entire life doesn't make a hopeless romantic out of you, I don't know what will.

I'll be spending tomorrow night having dinner with three of my most wonderful friends then hosting a night out (a thrice weekly occurrence as I work in promotions) at Toronto's Thompson rooftop. We named the event Hearts on Fire and many are taking it as the anti-Valentine's day place to be, but really it's just going to be a gathering a good people having a good time. Happy hearts, sad hearts, and most certainly hearts on fire are welcome.

If a recently brutally heartbroken, now single model who works in the jaded nightlife industry can happily support love on its celebratory day, then really, all you Sad Sallies out there have no excuse! Happy Valentine's Day lovers! x

OMFG - Audio Sex.

Etta James passed away last week and with that news we all remembered her most famous song, At Last. Beautiful, simple and lovely, it has always been one of my favorite classic love songs. But, in this modern world where synth beats prove sexier than violins, I think it's time for a little update. Here are a few of my favorite modern songs to set the mood to!

1. Time is Running Out - Muse
This song has the hottest intro, I think, ever. Low, sexy, and just a little bit menacing...in the sexiest way of course. While lead singer Matthew Bellamy made us all collectively groan when he ran off with Kate Hudson (ugh, like, really?), as long as they continue to make smooth songs like this, we'll forgive him. (And they have a baby now or whatever so we'll make an exception.) Despite its slightly disturbing lyrics, the song is aggressive in an amorous possessive way, rather than a serial killer way. Or at least that's how I see it. You will be the death of me can either be totally creepy or totally romantic...I'm going to go with the latter.
Even if Bellamy sang about murder, I'd still have this song on the list for the intro alone.
Listen to it here!

2. Lost Without You - Robin Thicke
Where Barry White is the deep, baritone voice of liquid sex from generations past, Robin Thicke's voice is pure ear sex for us today. Opposite to White in every way (soprano...and a lean, white dude) except that their songs all make for some seriously romantic moods. Quite simply a song about how much he loves and admires a woman, the fact that it was written for, and the video stars, his real-life wife Paula Patton makes me swoon. With just the right number of ooh's and aah's without being cheesy and a subtle guitar accompaniment, this one never gets old.
Listen to it here!

3. High for This - The Weekend
What did we all get down to before the Weekend? Toronto's very own underground superstar is the new standard of music for baby-making. Some times you have proper romance with dinner, drinks and manners. And some times you have 3 a.m. drug-fueled illicit entanglements you can only get away with in your twenties. You can guess which of the two scenarios this song is for. It literally beckons one to get high and make some sweet lovin'. Intense, shiver-inducing and smooth as silk, this is one for those nights out that end in the best way possible. And hey, if you and your lover are past the point of coherence, the lyrics are pretty much a step-by-step guide of what to do! Win.
Listen to it here!

4. Futuresex/Lovesounds - Justin Timberlake
Before JT went all mediocre actor on us, he made some pretty decent music. While Justified was loved mainly by aged teenyboppers, his sophomore album Futuresex/Lovesounds was kind of awesome. The title track is by far my favorite. Slickity slick slick is the only way to describe it. Sexy but not obscene lyrics, synthesized but not overdone and with a bass made to grind to, it's subtle, modern and suggestive. Every time I listen to it, it makes me hate Jessica Biel just a little bit more than I did 4:02 minutes ago. Sexyback can suck it, this is where sexy is at.
Listen to it here!

5. Bed - J. Holiday
Every sexy song list needs a good ole' RnB clincher. I had to stop myself from putting Ginuwine's Pony on here (Best. Grinding. Song. Ever.) and instead went the more romantic route with J. Holiday. Don't let his neck tattoo fool you...this song is sweet sensuousness at its best. Another soprano male voice (I think I'm seeing  trend here..), the lyrics are so loving they're almost precious. Seriously, I don't think there's an RnB song out there as endearingly worded as this one. Love is war, I'm your soldier is my favorite line from a song, ever. Irresistible.
Listen to it here!

OMFG -- A Little Baggage

My good friend Daniela and I often share our woes of the dating scene in our mid-twenties. No longer naively optimistic teens looking for puppy love nor horridly jaded (...yet) we both agree that it's fun for the most part, but a little tiring at others. "They're like job interviews with cocktails!" Daniela often remarks about first dates. And sadly, I'd have to agree. By the time you're twentysomething, it's inevitable to have accumulated a fair amount of dating "experience", shall we say. And by "experience" I mean a whole lot of emotional baggage. Unless you're a robot, totally prude or incredibly sheltered, chances are that you've either had your heart broken, or done the breaking. Many of us are in self-protect mode at this age and that's why first dates can be interrogation-like...it's all about sniffing out the other person's baggage.

Pessimistic sounding, sure, but as some one who definitely fits into the category of hopeless romantic, baggage doesn't have to be anymore more than a little bump in the road. It's been noted (by friends of mine -- over and over again) that a characteristic of mine is to not give up on people. Sure, it's sounds all lovely and endearing in words, but in actuality it has proven to be draining and not always for the best. Sticking around way after the expiry date of a relationship, when it's gone not just bad but awfully rotten, simply for the sake of trying to help some one who clearly does not want it, is not an ideal situation for anyone. So with that in mind I give my baggage advice with warning: only attempt to take on baggage you know you can handle. Hopelessly romantic I may be, but naive? Nuh-uh.

And, as with everything else in life, a bit of honesty goes a long way. No, no, no, this doesn't mean word vomiting after meeting some one of interest a couple times, or letting it all out when wasted, but simply answering things as they come up. Honestly. (For the record, I'm personally all for drunken emotional talks, but experience has proven the general consensus is a resounding nay. See? Hopeless.) It's the difference between fudging the answer of questions about your past and admitting that no, your dating history isn't perfect. Perfection is for the for the boring anyways...give me complicated, layered and mysterious any day of the week. If Adele can make a career of singing about it, surely it's not all that bad.

Acknowledging flaws of the dating world keeps it resoundingly on the fun as opposed to the tiring side. Interesting people, interesting places and interesting things (so interesting nouns, basically..) never cease to keep things, well, interesting! And who knows, the next fun fling you have might just turn into some one who makes your baggage feel not as heavy. Happy dating, darling bloggees!

x

And for days when you just need a little Adele release...after all, anyone with iTunes and a heart does it!

OMFG -- Television with a Heart..

As September lazily turns from a humid summer into a cool fall, television follows suit as the tide turns from reruns to the premieres of all the shows we missed during the summer. I don't know about you guys, but TV watching for me has turned from catching the latest episode of my favorite series every week to holing up in my room hermit-style every once in a while and watching an entire season of a series start to finish on my computer. This may or may not include cuddling with chips, cupcakes and a variety of other munchie foods while in bed. Technology at it's finest, no? I have pretty mainstream taste: everything from the standard chick fare like Gossip Girl (for the clothes and Chuck Bass, strictly) to standard boy fare like Entourage (hoping they don't screw up the movie..) and everything in between. I've noticed over the past few seasons, the number of shows I've been addicted to has upped in numbers...and it's for one lovely little reason: the return of good old fashioned heart to television.

Don't roll your eyes at me now...if you're reading this and don't value all matters dealing with the heart, then you, my darling, have wandered onto the wrong blog. I'm talking about warm fuzzies, gooey sentimentalism, or "tender" moments as my sister calls them, all making their way back into prime-time popular shows. Much of this can be attributed to the comeback of the sitcom. After Friends ended and Seinfeld went off air, there was a loll where similar shows were coming on, and failing fast. It's not that Friends lacked heart, and as a big fan of the show I wouldn't of changed a thing, but it was more about quick laughs and romance than anything else. And Seinfeld was a show famously about nothing. The typical mid-90's sitcom situation of a group of single people living in a city has made way for different types of plots; families, and the search for love, not just fun on the singles scene.

My favorite of the bunch, and a favorite of critics and fans alike it seems is Modern Family. Hysterically funny, just the right mount of awkward and heartwarming at the appropriate times, it's sweet while still being hilarious and of course, modern. It also helps that Manny is my soul mate. Yes, the 11 year old son of Jay and Gloria not only write poems for girls he likes, reads Hemingway and wears meticulously coordinated outfits, but also turns his nose down on all activities that should be age-appropriate for a fifth grader. A hopeless romantic who hasn't even reached middle school? No wonder why I love this show! A close second is the character of Phil, who is endearingly dorky at its best. Because the show is just that good, I will overlook the fact that for the new season they've replaced the adorable Asian baby Lily with an obviously mixed-race child who is neither cute, nor funny. I mean come on, we can all tell she's half white. For a show that's so against tradition in a lot of ways, it's slightly insulting for the creators to think no one would notice.

Even when a show is about a group of singles living in the city, the warm undertones are what make me happy to see what they're up to. I've come to love How I Met Your Mother; a show where we follow Ted and his group of friends as we retells the story to his kids of how he met their mother. I mean, there's family love and tenderness written right into the title! It allows all the conquests he embarks seem not just for sport, but part of a grand journey where, if they had not occurred, he wouldn't ultimately meet his true love. It's a singles show for the romantics out there, and one where we follow along with our own tumultuous love lives knowing every fight, heartbreak and stupid mistake happens for a reason. (Even if you're not as on board the sappy bandwagon as I am, HIMYM is worth watching for Neil Patrick Harris alone in all his sociopath, lady-killing, musical glory.)

The kinder, gentler, but no less funny sitcom is prevailing and love addicts like yours truly are binging on all the gooey television moments we can get. Mind you, this is prime time, and all the edgy stuff is still available on cable (I'm just getting hooked on Damages). But the dominance of heartwarming ideals in mainstream television makes for a nice sentiment: that collectively, it's what audiences are seeking out. And what a lovey feeling it is to know we all may be all the same page after all....well, according to Nelson's ratings at least. Sit back, watch, love and enjoy!
x

Why the Notebook Sucks...OMFG

The Notebook is the worst movie on the face of this Earth. Yup. I said it. Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful and touching and lovely and magical and absolutely hopelessly, mind-bogglingly romantic....and it sucks balls. No matter how many tears stream down my face whenever Aly and Noah jump into each other's arms, choosing to be together over all logic and common sense, I know that situations like that just don't happen in real life. Why, Notebook, why must you be so cruel? Ryan Gosling single-handedly puts into the minds of every women out there that an amazing, star-crossed lover awaits, eager to prove every notion about jerk guys wrong. Nuh-uh. Does not exist. There's even a Twitter account under the movie's name that spews love quotes, which make even this romantic want to gag. I've un-followed people who re-tweet too many of those quotes. (I.e. sad single girls.)

I should preface this entry with the fact that my friend Liz and I made the poor choice of watching this movie while in the midst of tumultuous fights with our respective boyfriends/ex-boyfriends. After the credits rolled, we promptly wiped away our tears and ran back to the boys we had dismissed as idiotic just hours earlier at dinner. Seriously girls, when you're upset or in a fight with men, don't watch this movie. It makes you think they're something they're not. Bitter? Maybe. But with good reason. Noahs' do not exist in this day and age. The Southern United States in the 1940's? Perhaps. But not today.

The scenes when both characters are elderly are sweet in their devotion, but I found watching this for the second time (Yes, the second time. I'm not one of those girls who curls up in bed and watches The Notebook over and over again on a rainy day. Pointless.) that the interactions Ryan and Rachael have when they're young are very much...well, scenes that justify the crazy. Oh, you know what I mean boys and girls -- the crazy. The little voice in your head that tells you whatever extreme, emotional feeling you're trying to justify when in love is totally justified. It's the same voice that makes you online creep an ex's profile, throw objects that are within arm's reach when enraged at your partner and say "we'll make it work!"  when it hasn't the past six billion times.

And that speech. Oh that speech. That speech that he gives after they've reunited seven years later to make her choose him over her handsome yet dull and predictable fiance. (James Marsten, sexy as ever. Although no matter what role I see him in, I expect him to shoot lasers out of his eyes, Cyclops style.) That speech ruins it for us all. It makes any girl, or guy, stuck in a fiery, perpetually unstable relationship think that that is love. I don't remember his words exactly but something along the lines of "Fight! That's what we do! It's going to be hard, and we'll have to work on it every day, but I want you. Everyday. Forever."  I mean, really. Those are fighting words justifying the crazy if I ever heard them. Not cool, Ryan Gosling, not cool.

Yes, fighting is a natural part of relationships and when we fight, we move forward when we come up solutions. But, when we fight constantly and get nowhere? I just can't wrap my head around that being love. When the same issues arise over and over, it's usually because neither party is willing to compromise for one another. And what's a good relationship without compromise? There is no good relationship without compromise. Sacrifices for love should be a joy simply to see how happy it makes your significant other. But that's just me.

Women in their twenties have enough cray cray going on without needing justification of it all from romantic drivel in movies. Although men could stand to cure some of their cluelessness with romance by watching. Dear men: if you feel compelled to show your woman how much your care for them, just do it. There's no rarer breed than a genuine romantic man nowadays and it'll put you miles ahead of most selfish guys out there. All in all, touching movie, but about as realistic as X-Men. Ryan Goslings of the world, where art thou?
x

Falling for Fake Love...OMFG

I've mentioned my parents in multiple blog posts: the loving, hard-working, endlessly devoted team who raised me is also responsible for ruining any chance I have at a realistic expectation of love thanks to their traditional and seemingly extinct yet perfect union. But alas, I can't place all the blame on my lovely parents. Sure, they set the standard, but it has been reinforced over and over again by popular culture. Thanks to television shows, music and the biggest culprit: romantic comedies, I've fallen for "fake love", a level of love that doesn't seem to exist anywhere but in the media, and inconveniently in my head. Kill me now.

My boyfriend asked me one day what romance was. "We spend time together...isn't that enough?" He questioned, sounding genuinely perplexed. I cried. What do you mean the man I love didn't want to create a world of star-gazing and flowers and huge romantic gestures every second of the day? It seemed cold, cruel and utterly impossible to be in a relationship that didn't include passions on top of passions.

I spent yesterday evening writing all the while having How I Met Your Mother on in the background. Every time I poked my head out from my laptop screen, Ted was in the middle of some insanely romantic plan to win a girl over. From surprising a girl he wanted to date with a string quartet in her apartment to taking a girl on an elaborate two minute date since that was all the time she had available for a date, this is the kind of impossible romantic drivel being pounded into my head every time I tune into mass media. It's getting to a point that unless I marry Romeo Montague, no man will ever satisfy me in the romance department. That's the problem with wanting fake love; it's only possible in the movies.

I love Coldplay. Yes, I realize they've douched out since becoming one of the biggest bands in the world, but when my best friend and I were first discovering them when we were in middle school, they were a charming, new and earnest band who sang simple songs about love. I was hooked. From the time I was in my early teens until my early twenties, I listened to Coldplay nonstop. That's a good decade of my life spent being brainwashed by such heartbreaking tender lyrics such as "Look at the stars, look how they shine for you, and everything you do,' and "Lights will guide you home, and ignite your soul, and I will try and fix you." not to mention "You are a rock, upon which I stand,"  I mean really. I never stood a chance.

It's not that I'm looking for fireworks and flowers every time I go on a date (well not anymore at least..) but the romantic in me, the one who remembers every love line, lyric and gesture from every book, show and movie she's seen, always gets her hopes just the teeniest bit raised whenever there's a possibility for one to happen. And so far I've been met with nothing but disappointment. This is not to read as some commentary on the caliber of my boyfriend (Although romantic, he is not. We have a joke. On a scale of romance it goes: old boot > my boyfriend > smelly old boot. His defense? "Well at least I'm better than a smelly old boot!" Cute.) but rather a commentary on how much pop culture has infiltrated our lives. Realistic love, or more specifically the ways in which love and admiration are expressed in the everyday world, just don't seem to be as meaningful unless matched with larger than life actions.

It's been something of a realization for me that everyone loves in their own way. Not everyone cares for huge lovey-dovey gestures, but that shouldn't read as them being any less...well, loving. I know I'll aways be some one whose heart swells when the male protagonist in the movie wins the girl back with some crazy elaborate scheme (JT and the flash dance mob in Friends with Benefits, Heath dancing along the stairs and singing in Ten Things I Hate About You, Freddy Prince Jr. in every movie he's ever been in, etc.) but it's because I wear my heart on my sleeve, and always will. (Literally...those heart tattoos aren't going anywhere.) But what it takes for a non-romantic to be with me, or anyone else, is simply love. Expressed in the way they want, so long as it's expressed. Traditional hopeless romantics may shake their heads, but we live in modern times, and this modern girl is adapting her ways.

Fake love be damned. I'll settle for real love any day. That old boot may be on to something....x

OMFG -- A little Perspective

When I was 18, I got my first tattoo of a small pair of wings. It was not some deluded tribute to thinking of myself as an angel, or anything to do with fairies, but a simple reminder to always have perspective in life. The wings were my freedom, the ability to fly away and gain perspective when it came to any situation, and see it with fresh eyes. Throughout the years I've amassed a couple other tattoos which are more like love scrawls that create a delicate narrative along my body, and realized that I needed perspective more than ever...instead of being consumed by situations since I am so driven by emotions, especially when I think love is involved.

I've been in New York the past couple days, and I can't think of a better place to regain my perspective. Being alone in the most influential metropolis in the world puts you in your place in every way, and also allows one to find an identity in its vast anonymity. It's not that I was a wanderer up until now (love, and always will love Toronto.) but anyone who has been to NYC knows the impact it can have. Spending solo time with nothing but the city and your thoughts is bound to lead to some realizations, even to the most spacey of space cadets, let alone an over-analytic, hyper-thinker like myself.

Add rainy weather, gray skies and slightly more desolate than normal streets and you've got yourself the perfect scene for the emo kind of day I've been having. Pathetic fallacy, my late English teacher from high school taught us it was called when inanimate objects (like the weather) reflected a character's mood. Although I can't blame my thoughts on the dowdy Manhattan weather -- it was beautiful and sunny yesterday and still my brain was thinking faster than it normally does...close to combustion I think it borderlines on at times. Just what is all my perspective being gained in, you ask? Why the answer is obvious for anyone who remotely knows me. Love. Love, love, love. I don't think anyone who's not a Romantic era poet thinks about love as much as I do.

It's a lovely sentiment to live by, but also a huge weakness and my ideas on how it should be in my life (cough, perfectly, cough) usually end in disaster. How does one cope with the little girl who lives in a fairy tale? I have no idea, and neither does any man I've dated. Realistic and rational and unshakably chill I can be, but for some one who is thoughtful and caring and places so much of her happiness on living life that way, it's hard to find that expectation reciprocated in one's romantic life.

And so, with all my trials and tribulations when it comes to being a lovey dovey romantic, I've slipped on my pair of wings here in the Upper East side where I'm staying and attempted to see everything I've been through with fresh eyes. As long as I move forward with some sort of progress, I'll be satisfied. After all we are nothing if not for progress.
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Hey babies hey babies hey -- OMFG

I was enjoying a martini and miso black cod at an upscale sushi restaurant in my dear city one night a little bit ago with some girl friends when our meal was disrupted by a scream. All of my well-heeled and glittery-dressed gals and I turned our coiffed heads from our $50 meals to see a child, maybe about five years, wailing and running around the restaurant with what looked like chocolate smeared on his face. While one or two of my friends oohed and ahhed over the cuteness of the little tyke, I winced and sighed. I mean, what kind of parents bring their kids to a trendy restaurant at 10pm on a weekend night? I don't care how cool and hip parenting has evolved to be over the past decades -- there are just some places children are not meant to go.

I paid $20 a drink to enjoy the pretentious atmosphere of classy Toronto dining I'm used to when I head out for the night... and that atmosphere does not include messy-faced toddlers. This incident pretty much sums out how I feel about ever having kids now, or anytime soon: there's absolutely no way. I'm admittedly too selfish to give up any of my lifestyle and care for some one else. (Well, except a boyfriend at the moment.) Also, I can barely take care of my myself...goodness knows what would happen if I had a child. However, some of my friends, of similar age to me (read: still young) have expressed that they are ready to settle down with one person, have babies, and spend their lives caring for them. One girl friend of mine was explaining her desire to do so the other night while we were out, and I don't know if it was the four vodka-Redbulls I had throughout the night, or the three shots I'd downed, or the beer I was sipping on, but I started to feel claustrophobic and it wasn't even my life she was describing. Being tied down to anything that involves commitment (other than love..) just makes my skin crawl. Perhaps it's the responsibility of it all, but I think I can safely say there will be no little Sheilakins running around any time soon.

I realize this all makes me sound terribly anti-child. That's not the case at all! I think babies are adorable (as long as I don't have to take care of them for more than a couple minutes) and that children are cute as well. Heck, I even spent a summer when I was fifteen being a camp counselor! Mind you, it was a pampered rich kid day camp in my area and as counselors we really didn't really have to do much other than shuffle the kids from supervised activity to supervised activity...but hey, I was still surrounded by them 24/7!

When I think of how wonderful my childhood was (no less than three trips to Disney World, travel all over the globe, caring parents who listened to whatever my siblings and I had to say and many other precious surprises, to say the least) I know that I want to be able to give that, and more, to my own children. And right now, living the (relatively) carefree and a lot of the time careless life that I live...well that's just not an option. Not to mention my parents being the most amazing and ridiculously functioning team in the world (seriously, they could run a country together, that's how seamlessly efficient they are) I guess subconsciously I won't even consider having kids until I feel I'm in a union as solid as theirs. I mean, at least I know I'm selfish, unfit to provide and unstable right now! Teen Mom on MTV might be shits and giggles to make fun of, but imagining being in such a sad situation in reality is terrifying. No money, sketchy babydaddy, and poor living standards? Ugh, hand me a condom.

Of course life has its moments that cannot be planned, but having children definitely is not one of them for me. While I admire that some of my friends already know what they want in life, I feel as though I haven't even seen, or experienced enough of the world to decide when, where and who I want to settle down with. Children, schmildren -- they can wait. What can't wait, to me, is the world. And perhaps after I see, do, and live everything I've felt I need to, I'll be ready. But until then, they should really stay out of my upscale dinner parties. x

OMFG - Make it work.

As a fan of Project Runway, I always loved it when Tim Gunn arched those perfectly groomed eyebrows of his and advised the contestants to "Make it work.". I always wondered how that phrase applied not only to television but to relationships as well, especially in our youth. How much work should we dedicate to making something that isn't working, work?
I'm sure as you get older, making relationships work is a little easier of a choice. After you've been with someone  for a certain amount of time and have experienced what you wanted to in life, finding  a lover or companion to spend the relaxing years of your life with is a no-brainer. But what about when you're in your twenties, at the top of your game, and with the world at your fingertips? Not as easy. I can speak honestly for most twenty-somethings out there when I say we're all selfish little brats looking out for number one. The usual train of thought that goes through our pretty heads when it comes to evaluating a relationship is along the lines of "Will they hold me back?" "Will I find some one better?" "Can I commit to one person when I can't even handle my own affairs?" "Is this love???" Oh, the amount of uncertainty that clouds the brain of a twenty-something is literally mind-boggling.
That's why the number of unstable, off and on, kinda-sorta and maybe relationships (for lack of a better, or less concrete word), during these years is so high. To commit to another person when you can barely commit to yourself seems almost impossible. Usually it just seems easier to let go and move on than to stick around and try and make it work. After all, why should we put so much effort into fixing something that's seemingly broken when something, or some one, better could easily come along? Well call me crazy, but I'm going to pull the love card here.
For all the headache and heartbreak we put ourselves through during the years of partying, traveling and general recklessness, once in a blue moon you find some one who just might end up being worth the effort. I once heard that there are no "maybe" feelings when it comes to love; that when you know, you know. Even some one as hopelessly romantic as me can say that sure, when you're in love you know it, but defining love is something else entirely. So how do you know you're in something you can't even define? Oh, there's no need to get all emo here, but suffice to say it's difficult. I've been through several maudlin moments thus far in my life where the definition of what love is has modified itself significantly. Is loving some one letting them go live their life to the fullest and knowing destiny will bring you back together? Or is it being together no matter how difficult? I can't say for certain, but I know for me, at this very moment, it is, like Tim Gunn says, making it work.
Life in our youth is ridiculous enough as it is without love, or something like it, being added to the mix...but what's a little more craziness on top of an already hectic life? Maybe at this age you never really know what's for certain in another person, but what we do know is when it feels worth it, it usually is.
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