The Gift

Gift: something given voluntarily without payment in return, as to show favor toward someone, honor an occasion, or make a gesture of assistance.

Someone bestowed a gift upon me when I was 25 that I will never forget. One day, as I lazed about my apartment, sans boyfriend for the day my doorbell buzzed loudly. At the door stood a familiar face, an extended family member with a serious look on his face. "I brought you a gift", he said as he handed me the package. Several thoughts ran through my head as I stood in the doorway. One- it was not my birthday Two- this family member does not randomly "drop in" to give gifts and Three- I wonder what it is. As I searched his face for some meaning, I took the gift and began to feel its surface in my hand. Hard. Rectangular. 3 cm thick. My guess was that it was a book. Fabulous- I was in need of a new good read.

As I began to peel away the paper, he stopped me. He clearly instructed that I open it alone. With my face scrunched up with an uncertain gaze, he double checked to see that my boyfriend of 3 years at the time was not with me. I shook my head, with even more concern. He gave me a quick nod and left.

My feet couldn't move fast enough as I double timed it up the flight of twenty stairs to my apartment. I put the wrapped gift down on the coffee table and stared at it. In times of uncertainty the best remedy was to brew a cup a tea and light a ciggy (this concoction got me through most of twenties).

With the paper strewn on the floor beside me, my gift was revealed. I scanned the glossy cover for titles and words that would capture my attention. At first glance, the words, "from a writer and a consultant of sex and the city" were printed at the bottom of the cover. Bright hues of flashy pink and lime green caught my eye as I then saw the image of a white phone. A spark of excitement rushed through me as I held my new girly read close to my chest. Then as my eyes narrowed on the big pink circle in the middle of the cover I saw the typed words, "He's Just Not that into You". My eyes flicked from side to side as I read it again, and this time the smaller print read, "the no excuses truth to understanding guys" . I flipped through the pages, not completely understanding. This had to be a joke. As the pages slipped through my fingers, I scanned the table of contents.

Chapter 1, "He's just not that into you if he's not asking you out", or Chapter 2"if he's not calling you" or Chapter 4 "if he's not having sex with you". As my blood pressure eased, relief settled in. Phew - this was a joke- this had zero connection with me and my current relationship. I scanned a few more and there they were Chapters 7, 8 and 11. "He's just not that into you if he's breaking up with you"; "if he doesn't want to marry you" and the clincher, "if he's a selfish jerk, bully or a really big freak". Fury and rage rushed through me and I blindly launched the book through the air.

"How dare he", I glared. I got up, picked up the book, and stored it neatly away on my bookshelf. I actually took the time to hide it behind some other books. Never to be opened again.

That's a lie. One year later when the nigtmare was finally over with my boyfriend, I ransacked my apartment knowing that I had been given this "gift" but couldn't excatly remember where I had placed it. Several spots later, there it was, exactly as I had left it. I read the enitre book in less than an hour.

In hindsight, my Uncle's gift was one of assistance. A gentle prodding- a reality check. At the time I hated him for his "hidden meaning" gift. But as the years carried on, I found myself giving the same gifts to loved ones around me. They probably hate me too, but I realize that there is nothing more gratifying than giving someone the gift of wisdom.

Now What?!?

Okay. That's it. Im officially 30. Three, zero. The hoopla's over, the last bits of confetti wiped up, and parcels and sentimental cards tucked neatly away.  As I worked off a slight hangover the morning after the celebration- I took a moment to reflect on my new number. "Thirty". Somehow with such a milestone birthday I thought for sure I would somehow feel different... but as the haziness cleared and my head stopped pounding I learned two things: 

(1)  you're exactly the same 

and 

(2) a "3" and  "0" simply replace the "2" and the "9"

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn't help but search for signs. Not a single grey hair. I think I may have found a few more crow's lines around my eyes- but who can tell for sure. No  major shifts or changes. Its still the same you. A better you. A you with the experiences of your twenties behind you, a little more wisdom and a lot of class.    I realize that its okay to be where I am, just as I am and that everything will eventually fall into place. 

Im rearing to go. Up and onward. To thirty more years.... and another thirty after that.  In the meantime, I think I like the ring of "29" a whole more and plan to celebrate my 29th over and over and over again. 

With the last three decades behind me

S is for Scoundrel

A couple of weeks ago I attended a bash in celebration of Football's hottest event: Super Bowl. As the sound of tackles, runs and crunches filled the room- I mingled with some unfamiliar guests. Friends of friends, that sort of thing. Sitting around the table, we chatted away, getting acquainted and trying to place if we had all met in earlier times through other friends or at some local pub throughout College. We griped about stories over the years, particularly those scandoulous enough to make its way into every social gathering. Several laughs later, it was my turn. Somewhere during the conversation, someone pointed out that one of the guys had previously worked with my ex, and he immediately turned and all attention focused on me. Turns out the two had worked at the same establishment for awhile. When he learned of who my ex was, and the lenghth of time we were involved, he quitely placed his hand on my arm. He looked straight into my eyes and said, " I am so sorry". His words were genuine. I always knew my ex was a creep , but you know he was a dirty, rotten scoundrel when two years later, someone you've never met sincerely takes the time to provide his sympathies.

At that moment, years of lies, transgressions and deception flashed before my eyes. I read his facial expression, and knew instantly that he would be able to provide me with the missing pieces from so many years ago. Instead, with my head held up high, I answered , "Its okay. It was a huge learning experience".

I realized at that moment as those words escaped my lips, that I had grown- that somewhere along the way a lesson was learned. Back in my early to mid twenties- I would have jumped on the opportunity to gather evidence, sift through it, and re-hash it trying to understand why, be angry and cause a huge scene.

Somewhere out of that experience, I learned that you don't need to understand why. You just need to accept it.

Self Love?

Valentine's Day- one day of the year set aside for love and romance. Cooing couples celebrating decades, some celebrating new love. Flowers, Hallmark cards, and Al Green's rendition of "Let's get it on" over candlelight dinners. I get the illusory nature of the holiday. But let's be honest, being single on Valentines day is just another reminder that we're not in a couple.

Back in my early to mid twenties- finding friends to spend the evening with was a cinch. Grab some grub, some wine and alot of laughs. Fast forward five years, and almost everyone I know has something special planned with their significant other. Let's face it- this is one night that being third, fourth or even fifth wheel is not appealing. To make matters worse, my one and only other singleton is out of town for the weekend.

So this Valentine's day instead of embracing the fiery throws of love, Ive decided that love is not just for couples. Its about self love. In honour of myself- Ive planned a fantastic date : A little cleaning, a little cooking and a whole lot of shopping. Nothing cures the Valentines blues like retail therapy and a bottle of wine.

The Psychic

Sometimes when we're really down and out we find ourselves searching for some deeper meaning. Something more powerful than ourselves, something or someone to give us some answers. I admit, one day, at 27 I decided to join my girlfriend for her twice yearly trip to her Psychic. Full of anticipation, and expectations, I met her at the address she gave me. Rounding the corner, I fully expected to find some dingy door in a strip mall, with a red neon sign flashing "fortune teller- come on in we're open". Instead, I arrived at the destination; a classy apartment building in a well travelled neighborhood. I was ready to get some answers.


Greeted by an elderly woman in her sixties, we entered. Respectable, clean, and tidy. The kitchen table sat in the middle of the room. Four chairs, a tape recorder and a deck of cards. As her grandson, zoomed around the apartment - she got to work.

My friend went first. Several life issues were tackled one at a time. Before I knew it was my turn in the hot seat. I nervously answered her questions, and lingered on her every word. "May I record the session?", she eagerly asked. "Of course", I stammered. Without divulging her reading, what I can tell you is that she was bang on for recent events that were unfolding in my life. Some were even powerfully scary. Trust me, once home I scoured my entire social network to find a tape recorder to replay the silly cassette, and played-paused and stopped the tape over and over to write every single word down. Now thats scary.

On the other side her predictions for my future were way off. Like several years off. Three years later- off. Like potentially never gonna happen in this life time-off. There is a part of me that still wants to believe, that holds out for some her predictions, grasping on to the potential that maybe this psychics' powers are several years off in terms of time lines. In the meantime, while I await her predictions to unfold neatly into my life, I've realised that we are own creators. Along the way, I've come to learn that the best way to predict the future is to create it.

Life Lesson # 12

Over the years there is one piece of essential advice that I learned the hard way- lucky for you Im going to share this vital piece of wisdom with you now, although you've also known this truth all along.

Your friends and family are always right. Okay maybe not about our career choices, educational avenues, or personal style... but when it comes to relationships- they always tell it like it is. They know when you're with the wrong one.

The funny thing is, deep down inside- we secretly know too. But instead of listening to that tiny little voice of reason... we ignore the advice and go with our hearts, take a leap of faith , declare our undying love and keep it going. We argue with ourselves, make excuses, fantasize, romanticize and usually end up having full blown feuds with our friends and family members- all beacuse they know the truth.

Then it happens. One day a white light from the heavens beams through and verses of "hallelujah" may even be heard in the background. In that moment we get it. All the emotional conversations, the arguments and warnings that were once catapulted violently at us are right there in front of us. We are exposed. We see the truth, and get out.

Had I just listened to them in the first place, it would have saved a lot of heartache along the way. Live and learn, they say, live and learn.

What's on your list?

Without fail, when something goes wrong in our lives- be it a break-up; a loss; even a missed opportunity; I notice that I often reflect on my current surroundings and decide that I want to do something. When I was 21 and broke off with my first love- I wanted to do something crazy. I wanted to change to prove I could do something. My idea back then was to get a tatoo and dye my hair. Neither of which were ever accomplished (thankfully).

But it did get me thinking... when we're down and out we make a concsious choice to tell ourselves that life is too short, that we ought to do this or that- and more often than not we get caught back up in the hustle and bustle of the everyday grind and those things we wanted to do get left behind and forgotten. Why don't we actually commit to doing the things we really want to do?

At age 15, John Goddard ( a world famous adventuer and motivational speaker) made a list of 127 goals he wanted to achieve before he died. Things that he broke down into categories, such as "explore", "study", "climb", "visit" and "accomplish" among others. He is now in his seventies and has acheived 109 goals on his list.

I started this exercise about a year ago, and have found that committing my goal to paper is committing them to myself. I have a list with 101 goals. I keep it on me at all times. Ive only come up with 43 goals so far, but everytime I think of one, I put it on the list. Once acheived, I note the date of my accomplishment. It has been so empowering and the funny thing is... IM ACTUALLY DOING THEM. Its a lesson in learning what we really want to do in our lives and actually doing it.

Here are a sample of  some of my goals: Visit: 1. Africa 2. The Taj Mahal 3. Spain

Accomplish: 4. Write and Publish a book 5. A triathalon 6. Learn how to surf 7. use a real camera and photograph 8. Learn to speak Spanish Personal: 9. See the positive in every situation 10. Be at my ideal body weight 11. Lower my cholesterol 12. Be grateful for everything in my life

I urge you to take stock of your own goals and dreams and don't hold back. Walt Disney once said, "All of our dreams can come true- if we have the courage to pursue them." So, what's on your list?

A few good dates...

Along the way, in between the years seperating my two biggest relationships- I have to say I have experienced some of the most interesting dates. Here is a selection that didn't make it past date 1. Let's face it, I just wasn't into him either!

Age 21- Date: The Love Bite- While casually enjoying some ice cream one fine summer evening, the guy actually bit my right upper arm. Alarmed, and choking back on my cone, I turned and glared at him, as his teeth pulled off my skin. "Did you just bite me?" I demanded. He stuttered a bit, and tried to explain- he informed me that it was a love bite. No big deal. I don't care what kind of bite it was- you don't bite someone on a first date... I gently requested that he take me home.

Age 25- Date: The Flexer- During a casual meal at a fabulous eatery, the man I was enjoying conversation with, placed his hands in back of his head, clasped his fingers and flexed his biceps in 10 minute intervals. I thought maybe he had a tick- but let's be honest- we weren't working out.

Age 27- Date: The Alcoholic- This guy's eyes were glued to the big screen as the Canadians flew up and down the ice. He downed 3 rum and cokes within ten minutes and without talking would often glance at me and shake his head. After about 20 minutes, he nervously looked around, and demanded to know where my boyfriend was. Over and over again. I made a quick phone call, and made a mad dash.

Age 28- Date: The Real Estate Agent- Enjoying a relaxing lunch, with a few spirits- and listening to him talk about himself incessantly for over an hour, he insisted he drive me to my car. Most obliging I accepted his invitation seeing as my car was about 20 blocks away. Once strapped, he informed me he had to make a quick pit stop. Turns out he needed to show a condo to prospective buyers, and brought me along for the tour. Awkward.

Age 29-Date: The Way too Metro- The guy had more rings on than I did, and drank his beer with two hands, pinky's pointing out. Seriously?

As I review some of these engrossing scenarios- I question whether some of my dating experiences are getting worse over time? In retrospect, I probably could have given the love biter a second chance! Are there any normal guys out there? I'm just asking for one good date, maybe even a few.

The Signs

Over the years I've learned that no matter how old we are we always look for the signs. Whether we tell ourselves that we don't believe or whether we whole heartedly let the world know- as single women we tend to scrutinize, investigate and read into every move the male species makes. We then re-hash the screnario over and over, cross our fingers and hope for the best.


The other day, I took a 15 year old out for a chat and within minutes of our meeting, I sensed she was eager to tell me something very important. She nervously sat facing me. She was beaming. Without hestitation, she spilled the only thing that was on her mind. "I like James, " she said. Still grinning she informed me that she had smiled at him during gym class, and that he had smiled back. She wrapped both hands around her blizzard, glanced downward in a sheepish gaze and said matter of factly, "he smiled and looked away". She lingered on my response, waiting to hear my words of wisdom; awaiting my years of experience on the subject. "Do you think that's a sign?" , she asked. I couldn't help but laugh to myself, as I myself had pondered the same question only 4 hours earlier. I guess age has no limit on questioning the signs.

Whether we're single at 15 or 30 we replay the smile, glance, word selection and inflection over and over and over in our minds. When someone catches our fancy, we hope the connection is real and that the signs are not just a figment of our imgainations. In the end, I think we all just want the signs to be there, to prove that love really does exist.

One day the signs will be there and I'll be waiting.

And then there were two...

I have been blessed with an extensive circle of friends. 20 close girls that I see now and then, and in some way have been graciously a part of my life.  In our early twenties, only a handful of of the girls were in serious dating relationships. Most of us were single, and easing in and out of non- commital relationships. I attended my first wedding at 23. I remember it so vividly, it was my best friends older sister and for the first time I got to experience the exchange of vows. It was beautiful.  At 24, a few more of the girls met their true matches, and the singletons were becoming outnumbered. At 25, WHAM. One after the other, engagement announcements spread like wild fire.  When  I saw my first girlfriend to walk the aisle- I knew then and there that the rest would jump on the band wagon. And so 6 engagements, 6 showers, 2 weddings on the way, 3 baby showers and 2 divorces later, I look around at the circle and realize that the single gals are almost obsolete. The rest have nestled sweetly into the throws of love and although coined "single" they're not up for the running. Last night, one more was taken off the block, and so that leaves two. Two single ladies. 

I have always been genuinely excited and delighted to hear of my friend's bliss. Okay I do admit that some times envy has creeped into my actions, like  the time I had a momentary lapse in judgement  the last time I went to the wedding registry, and blew up at the sales associate because it was the 18th trip to the store in a matter of a few years, and I was disgruntled at being unable to select my own wedding gifts.  I felt horrible, but shook it off as human behavior. We are entitled to being envious once in awhile.

As I look on towards the future, I know that day will come for me too. Im secretly wishing it wont be in my fifties- but as I gather my pride and stroll through life with a smile, I realize that it ain't so bad being one of the last of my kind.  

The Flirt

Flirting: a form of human interaction between two people, expressing a romantic and/or sexual interest. Usually consisting of conversation,body language or brief physical contact. It may be one sided or reciprocated.

For me it's neither. Its simply disastrous. Having been in two long term relationships, my flirting skills were never really activated. Flirting was not required. The men came to me.

Fast forward a little, and now at 29, free from the destructive vices of my last relationship, here I am. Utterly and completely happy with my life, and ready to seriously start dating again. After some thoughtful soul searching; I know what I want in a man. I know what I am attracted to and what gets me excited. I'm taking a different approach this time around. Im going after what I want.

So I embarked on a mission about 3 months ago. To brush up on my flirting skills, pick a target and make it happen. When faced with the pivotal flirting moment, one has two flirting choices. (1) the sexy and confident approach, (i.e make direct eye contact or have "just the right thing to say"), or (2) my approach (i.e tripping, blundering and muttering random nonsensical sentences).

I began to see the pattern, and most importantly I was quickly learning that I wasn't a very good flirt at all. I trudged onward, not abandoning my mission, and yet the end results were always the same. Take yesterday's blunder as a prime example. Enter hot guy. They say timing is everything. As I walked through a hallway only a clear glass door separated the two of us. It was absolutely the perfect opportunity to introduce myself. It would have been the perfect time to confidently hold out my hand, introduce myself, throw in a hair twirl and even perhaps a flash of pearly whites. Right at that moment, that pivotal moment when both of our hands were on the handle, it jammed on my side and my shoulder dove into the door, leaving the left side of my face smeared on the glass pane in pursuit. He smiled. My two choices flashed before my eyes. I knew I could recover from this mishap, shake it off and start over. Instead, I muttered some ridiculus thing. A twitchy grin spread across my face and he walked on. Perfect.

So, as I span the lessons learned over the past ten years, I get it. Some women are just really good at flirting, they have a natural talent and ability to capture a man's attention and let it be known that they're interested- leading to reciprocal desire. The rest of us ain't so lucky- I'm still holding out for the man who finds my flirting skills irresistibly sexy.

Champagne Birthday

Definition:  One's Champagne Birthday, is the day when the age one turns and the date of birth coincide. Lucky for me it was the year I turned 22. I lived to see it. Barely.

Spring Break. 21, Single and in Daytona Beach. Those seven days are really quite a blur. Memories in the recesses of my mind, tucked neatly away- only to re-surface when absolutely required. I suspect I may not be the only one with foggy details of that week. I know for sure I didn't participate in the thong contest.... or the wet t-shirt contest... or lined up for the shot contest. Uggh... at least I don't think I did. 

The week I turned 22, and celebrated my Champagne Birthday with a blend of old  and new friends was the week I knew I was finally over my first love.  The week I longed to live life with reckless abandon. The week I discovered I actually had a slinky sexual side, and it was alright to be impulsive. 

I returned home from Holiday with most of my dignity, a new outlook on life,  and a meter long fuschia colored drink container disguised as a bong with "Daytona" slapped on its side like a bumper sticker to eternally remind me of the celebration.  

As I look back, 22 and single was fabulous. Discovering myself just that much more and learning not to care about what anyone one else thought, was even better.

Twenty One

When I was 21, I wanted to be 30.  I'm not sure why. At 21, I had left home and moved into a flat with a girlfriend. I had broken up with the love of my life ( a 5 year high school love, body tingling-"this is the guy I am going to be with forever" relationship. ), and was living a new adventure.  Studying by day- and hitting the bars at night. Im exhausted even thinking about it. Here's what the week looked like then for the single ladies: 

Monday- Ladies Night at the local pub

Tuesday- Off

Wednesday- Ladies Night same pub but different location

Thursday- Girl gathering to re-cap Mondays events, possibly study

Friday- Club in the city (R & B)

Saturday-Club in the city (House)

Sunday- Rest and Re-coup for Monday's festivities

How I even graduated from University still remains a mystery- how I had the financial backing to support my week an even bigger mystery. Had I known then what I know now, I would have probably been able to buy a home.

Reviewing the schedule of past activities makes me realize that at 21 we were ready for anything that came our way.  The fact that now, I can't even handle one night out on the town without suffering badly for the following three is painful. I do hear though at 60 we get a second wind.