And That's Enough

MSN Conversation with Crazy Flags.

Crazy Flags says:
hey sexy klol

Paprika says:
hey sorry, was in with an upset student
what's up?

Crazy Flags says:
nothing, saying hello
lol
trying to be nice
lol

Paprika says:
hello how's your day been?

Crazy Flags says:
good I bbqd and having a bud lite at home lol

Paprika says:
nice

Crazy Flags says:
lol ya to bad ur not here

Paprika says:
that sounds a lot better than students in my office crying and yelling at me

Crazy Flags says:
why they doing that
what diod u do now lol

Paprika says:
a few of them failed their last course, which means they won't graduate. so they come in here and cry to see if i can get the instructor to change the mark. when i say no, then they start yelling at me.

Crazy Flags says:
omg
hmm
u gonna be mean to me too lol

Paprika says:
yup :)

Crazy Flags says:
lol I see
so u think of me at all lol

Paprika says:
think of you how?

Crazy Flags says:
i dont know in general

Paprika says:
i don't know what you're getting at here

Crazy Flags says:
lol
relax im bugging ya

Paprika says:
it seems like you're fishing for something here and i'm at a loss as to your expectation. especially after only having started chatting with each other yesterday.

Crazy Flags says:
ok ms serious
take a pill lol wow
be nice
im playing with ya

Paprika says:
well that's hard to tell via chat

Crazy Flags says:
want me to call u for a min

Paprika says:
can't i'm at work

Crazy Flags says:
oh ok
so u been on pof at all today or

Paprika says:
this morning. why do you ask?

Crazy Flags says:
lol just asking, maybe someone appealing to u messaged ya

Paprika says:
would it matter if someone did?

Crazy Flags says:
lol omg., im making conversation here, ur touchy today haa
u get defensice fast
and no im doing well on there too so

Paprika says:
to be honest, i am just not getting a good vibe from you. especially after last night's chat and now today.
i think i just want to stop chatting
take care

And then he followed up with a message on Facebook.

From: Crazy Flags
Sent: March 31, 2010 at 5:09pm
Subject: lol

U need to get laid. And of what I can tell I can see why ur single. go get it good and hard, u dum twat

Um yeah, I think I can say why he is still single. Can we say NEEDY and ILLITERATE? And what's with the name calling? Are we in Grade 3 here?

I've blocked him everywhere and I've changed his name to Crazy in my cell phone. So if he tries to phone or send me a text, I'll know NOT to take it.

Crazy Flags

Okay, I'm sure I've mentioned that I went back onto Plenty of Fish a while ago. But I can't find the post to reference at the moment because my brain is currently yelling "DANGER WILL ROBINSON!!!"

A guy messaged me today so I checked out his profile. He was cute enough and his profile was alright. He mentioned he likes kids and animals and volunteers at an old folks home. So I sent him a message back and we started chatting, and soon moved the conversation over to MSN.

I just finished a chat with him a few minutes ago that has left me a bit shaken. There were some things he said that totally reminded me of my ex husband.

Now I *know* he's not my ex. No one on earth can ever match that extraordinary level of crazy. However, there were a few things that were exactly the same as my ex which is why I'm all freaked out right now.

The first being his inability to use proper punctuation. I know MSN is a loose form of communication. Although I may not capitalize when I'm chatting, I still use punctuation as to indicate the end of a sentence instead of leaving words to continue to fill up the message window making it difficult for the person I'm chatting with to know if I've actually finished one or several thoughts. (See, it's annoying.)

The second thing was the fact that he didn't like the way I didn't return his compliments. He's had all day to troll my Facebook (Yes, I added him. Yes, I know that was dumb.) so he's looked at every single picture I have posted. He kept saying how pretty I am, and how nice my eyes are...blah blah blah. And then he asked if I had looked at his pictures. And the honest truth was no. I was at work when he added me on FB, and I did not leave work until 8:15pm. Then I came home and started blogging and frankly pictures usually lie, so I won't make up my mind about how cute I think a guy is until I actually meet him. I told him I don't hand out compliments unless they are deserved.

The third and most alarming thing was that he said, "looking forward 2 meeting u" and I simply said, "Thanks. :)"

He responded to that with "u have trouble with sommunication dont u i said i want 2 meet u & u said thx not i want 2 meet u2"

First of all, I don't have trouble with COMMUNICATION. He has trouble with spelling and grammar. Secondly, I feel I shouldn't have to point out the obvious. Of course I want to meet him, seeing as about 20 minutes earlier we were discussing when/where we'd meet. I find it redundant and annoying to reaffirm what is so blatantly obvious. Maybe that makes me harsh, but seriously, why do I need to say, "Me too!" when I was already saying, "So, what's the address?"

Then he went on to tell me (and I'll spare you the illiteracy) that I should be open and honest with him and never hold anything back.

That, verbatim with spelling mistakes and all, was EXACTLY what my ex husband would say to me ALL. THE. TIME. about ANY. THING. we happened to be talking about.

I think I still have hundreds and hundreds of emails where he would beg me to be open and honest with him. For some reason, he equated my non statement of the obvious to me holding back and somehow being dishonest.

He would forever tell me how hot and sexy I am. I wouldn't return the compliment because I always felt as though he was fishing for them. And frankly, I just don't buy it when a guy tells me that.

Okay, I *know* I'm hot and sexy. I don't need anyone to tell me. So when a guy says that to me, I feel it's simply a means to an end. He figures I'm this self-loathing, (okay, I am) insecure (definitely not) little flower who needs to be told how beautiful she is so that she'll feel special for a brief and shining moment. And because she felt that way for a moment, she'll want to feel it again. And in order to feel it again, she will have the overwhelming urge to repay the man who made her feel special by dropping to her knees and giving him head on the spot in the hopes he will bestow that precious gift of validation to her once again. (Geez, this lack of punctuation seems to be contagious.)

That's probably a really cynical view of things but I'm pretty sure I'm right. No man compliments a woman, especially one he's known for less than a day, unless he wants some nookie.

So back to my ex and his ridiculous spouting of compliments - I would NEVER return them. Which pissed him off to no end. He would DEMAND I compliment him in return. Which of course, made me even more adamant in NOT complimenting him. The funny thing is I actually would compliment him on my own, outside of any compliments he'd given me first. But he never acknowledged those compliments. Those fell on deaf ears.

So back to this new guy - now he's demanding I return compliments. Um yeah, the warning flags and alarm bells started going off in my head.

I told him I didn't like where the conversation was going.

"were fine"

I believe that translates to, We Are Fine.

He asked if he could phone me tomorrow, and I agreed. If I get more crazy flags popping up, you can bet I'm going to block his ass from FB and MSN.

Up Chuck

Twenty minutes and three stitches later, my lump was sitting on some gauze on the rolling surgical cart.

"Can I keep it?"

"No. We're sending it to the lab for testing."

And now ladies and gentlemen, introducing to you, in living colour, my sebaceous cyst. I have named him Chuck.

I still cannot believe that thing lived in my neck for almost 5 years. It's amazing how your body does pretty much whatever the hell it wants.

I'm certain it's nothing to worry about. I googled images of sebaceous cysts and mine looked very similar to the ones that were coming up in the search results. Well, except for a couple of really gross ones that I won't bother to disgust you with.

The local anesthetic lasted for several hours so I didn't experience any pain until I was about half way through my dance class tonight. Then it got really tender, really fast.

But I had Mr. David's beautiful face to focus on. I spent a lot of time dancing with him tonight! And the best part was that I got to dance the Mambo to "Johnny's Mambo" from Dirty Dancing! WOOOOO!!!

When my instructor started the music, I recognized it immediately and I let out a squeal of delight!

It was so totally awesome to dance to that song with Mr. David. Our chemistry was off the charts! So much so that I *almost* asked him out after class.

But the pain in my neck was literal and I hadn't washed my hair this morning due to a water heater malfunction at my Dad's house. There was exactly 5 minutes of hot water to be had for a shower, so I had to forego the 10 minutes it would have taken to wash my hair and concentrated solely on areas that my doctor would be inspecting.

I'm getting closer to asking him out. Now that I have a shiny new scar instead of a crazy ugly lump in my neck, I feel a little more confident in myself. If it ever got to the point where he was going to lean in for a kiss by gently placing his hand on the back of my neck, I know he won't reel back in horror by bumping into Chuck.

Thanks for the memories Chuck. I and my love life certainly won't miss you. Now be a good boy and test negative for cancer okay? Oh, and while you're at the lab, can you please check in on my pap and make sure it comes back negative too? Thanks, you're a pal.

Respect

I got a tattoo back in December 2007. Its purpose was to serve as a reminder that I will never allow anyone to treat me like shit ever again.

I was asked to be a guest singer for a benefit dinner/concert last night. At rehearsal last week, I asked the organizer what my call time would be.

"9:30pm and you'll go on in the 3rd set."

I arrived at 9:35pm (spent 5 minutes looking for parking) and after about 20 minutes of sitting around waiting (whilst listening to the other musicians play LOUDLY), the organizer made his way over to see me.

"You're late!"

"Yeah, I couldn't find parking. Sorry about that."

"No, you're an hour late. You missed your set."

"I'm 5 minutes late, not an hour! You told me 9:30pm."

"No I did not. I told you 8:30pm."

This went back and forth a few times until I finally said, "If that's what you want to believe, then so be it."

He shot me a look, and then waved me off with a flick of his hand and yelled, "Well you can just fucking go home now!"

ARE. YOU. KIDDING. ME?!?!

I left my friend's competition early that day so I could get ready and get to the gig on time. I gave up going home to Niagara to see my Dad and brothers for the weekend so I could do the gig. I spent time and money on getting myself to and from rehearsal and the gig.

OH HELL-TO-THE-MOTHER-FUCKING-NO HE DIDN'T JUST DISMISS ME LIKE I WAS SOME SORT OF SUBSERVIENT CLASS OF HUMAN!

I jumped up and made a beeline for the door. On my way out, his wife stopped me. She asked me where I was headed and I told her what happened.

"Well you know he's an asshole. He does that to me too."

In that moment, I felt just awful for her. Here was a bright, articulate, vivacious and drop dead gorgeous woman who allows that stupid fuck of an excuse for a man to treat her like garbage on a daily basis.

"Please, don't go! Stay for me."

Oh gawd. Guilt trips always work on me.

I tried to maintain my ground in that I was leaving but she made me promise to stay until at least she had a chance to talk with my bass player.

A few minutes later, my bass player found me and told me he spoke with the fucktard and all was well, I could stay.

Oooooh, I *could* stay. Wow, I should have fucking dropped to my knees and thank the Lord Almighty for being granted permission to breathe the same air as he.

My bass player told me numb nuts apologized to him. Well, wasn't that gracious of him? He apologized to someone that wasn't ME! I made sure to point that out to my bass player. He agreed it was a douchey thing of him to do, but he begged me to stay.

I did end up staying, but only because I really needed the money and because I've NEVER bailed on a gig. I have professional integrity and I wasn't about to compromise that because the organizer was being a world class ASSHAT.

Ironically, when it was finally my turn to sing, I belted out "Respect" by Aretha Franklin.

At the end of the night, I thanked and said good night to each and every one of the twelve other performers, as well as the organizer's wife. I threw him a cold stare and left with my head held high.

This morning I received an email from my bass player asking me how I was doing, and to let me know that the guitar player and drummer emailed him to have him check on me. I also had two Facebook requests from the sax player and the trombone player.

See? Professional integrity ALWAYS pays off.

I emailed my bass player back to let him know I was fine and that I will never do another show for that assclown again.

NEVER AGAIN.

RIP Eva

http://65redroses.livejournal.com/139488.html

Even though I didn't know her, this news has me absolutely devastated.

Breathe easy Eva.

xoxo

Cut It Out

I'll be visiting my family doctor on Monday for two specific reasons. The first is to get a small cyst cut out of my neck. The second is to do a repeat pap screening as the last one I had came back abnormal.

Usually, I would have worked myself up into an absolute frenzy of worry by now. Yet I haven't given the pap a worrisome thought - well, I did at first hence that blog post, but haven't since.

I've spent my whole life worrying. This stems directly from my mother's death when I was nine years old. I worry that I will get breast cancer and die just like she did. I worry that my father will drop dead from a heart attack (don't ask me why, there's no family history of heart disease). I worry that my brothers will get hit by cars and die. I worry that my best friend will die in a boating accident. I worry that I'll come home and find my cat dead on the floor.

Um, yeah. These are the thoughts that have occupied my head most of my adult life. They are always there, but get the loudest when I'm alone. This is probably why I do whatever it takes to keep myself busy (read: distracted).

I learned recently that my mother was a chronic worry wart. My cousin told me one of the many things she would fret about was what everyone, especially the neighbours, thought about the way she was raising us kids. That's why she would make sure we were always well dressed and clean - she didn't want anyone to ever think she was a bad mother.

Which explains why every single picture I have from my childhood was perfect. It never really occurred to me that anything was strange until I went back and actually looked.

All of them were posed. We were never in anything other than our Sunday best. Our hair was always combed. Our shoes always tied. And clean as a whistle! I don't have one picture of us playing in, or eating dirt. And come on, with two little boys, there was bound to be some atrocious accident that was captured on film. Nope. Nothing.

Here's my favourite picture from my childhood:

I know this was just a regular day at our house. We weren't dressed up for church or a family function or anything like that.

I love that my mother put bows in my hair. You can see how nicely our hair is combed and bangs are trimmed (crooked yes, but trimmed nonetheless). And we're all wearing suits!

The biggest thing my mother worried about was getting cancer and dying before she could finish raising us. And that's exactly what happened. There was no history of cancer in my family and blammo, she got it.

I remember my mother took every preventative measure known at the time to ward off the Big C. She read somewhere that using a hairdryer could cause cancer. She chucked out her big bad blower and refused to have her hair dried at the salon after a wash & cut. She read that broccoli was a good defense, so you can bet we had broccoli with every meal. She didn't smoke, she didn't drink and she exercised.

And still, she got it.

I, on the other hand, have done everything wrong. I eat junk food, I drink a lot, I don't exercise aside from my dance classes and running to catch a subway train. And now I'm faced with the possibility of cancer cells in my cervix.

And for some reason, I haven't worried about it.

Maybe my brain went into protective mode and has blocked it all out of my mind so that I don't worry myself to death. Whatever the reason, I hope I continue not worrying. And even if the results come back positive, I would still want to continue not worrying until they are actually yanking my uterus out.

Say a prayer for me people. I appreciate all the help I can get on this one.

Do Over

Sometimes I do things because I want to illicit a reaction. But being the self-loathing person I am, I never really believe that anyone gives a shit about me or my feelings. So I end up doing things where I hope I get a reaction, but don't believe I actually will get a reaction, and then when I do get a reaction, I get upset I ever did the thing that got the reaction in the first place. Get it?

Sooooo, I took to a public forum to express my distaste for the fact that Funny Guy has YET TO PHONE ME since our beer-bombing.

Yeah, I kinda referenced it on my Facebook status. Now I'm not foolish enough to come right out and say, "Paprika is mad because Funny Guy fucked her and didn't call". Of course I've got a little more tact than that. However, it was a pointed status update.

"Paprika really wants a do over for March 8th."

A bunch of friends left comments to the effect of "Aww, you ok?", or "HUGS!" or "Should I even ask what happened?"

One of my friends said she wanted a do over for the last 37 years of her life (which reminds me I will have to phone her today and tell her she is FABULOUS and not to change a thing!) and at the end of which she said, "...and have a beer."

To which I responded, "I think beer is what got me in trouble in the first place."

Now seeing as my status update had been up the whole day, I didn't think that Funny Guy would 1. see it, or 2. comment on it.

Yeah. Did I mention how surprised I am when I get a reaction?

He left this comment on my page 5 hours ago, so that would be around 3am.

"Why u so hard on March 8th? Strictly speaking I've been out of town a lot since then so I don't know what the rest of the month has been like but yo march 8th was a monday it already has baggage, go easy."

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

So I did what any sassy single female who wants more sex would do. I flew into damage control mode and sent him an email.

From: Paprika
To: Funny Guy
Date: Wed, Mar 24, 2010 at 7:55 AM
Subject: Dude

Hey,

I saw your comment on my FB status. I think you misread my status, or I'm misreading your comment.

I want a do over from March 8th because I dumped plans with a friend to go hang with you. Which is why beer got me into trouble. She's still a little mad at me but I think she'll get over it once our schedules sync up again. It's just annoying to hear, "But weeeee haaaaaaad plaaaaaaaannnnsss...." I'm like, it was 2 weeks ago, get over it.

I don't want a do over from what happened after the beer. I think that would be classified as, I want a do-more! LOL

Anyway, that'll teach me to post cryptic messages in a public forum.

Hope the road to and from out of town has treated you well.

Paprika

So basically what I've done is:

1. Lied.

2. Stroked his ego.

3. Lied.

And to make it all that much more believable, I employed the help of Beaner to further perpetuate this little white lie, by having her post as the jilted friend on the same status comment thread.

I suppose I should just take my own advice about all this and get over it, it was two weeks ago. But I'm hurt. I'm hurt that someone I call friend can so easily use me.

As I mentioned before, I know we're not going to fall in love and get married or any crap like that. But the minimum expectation is that he ACKNOWLEDGES me. That's it. A simple phone call to say hi would have averted all the hurt I'm feeling right now.

At least I know what a good friend I have in Beaner. She totally had my back without any questions. (Does it make sense to you now? You're the best. Sorry for bombing your cell with so many calls.)

Mambo Magic For Real

There were no new Mr. Davids in my Latin class last night. Just the regular old Mr. David. I don't know why I was shocked to see him. I'm pretty sure he's registered for every available class at the school because he's there all the time.

But I was still surprised seeing him as I spent the better part of a week in January trying to sort out which class to take in the hopes I'd end up in one of his. This time I didn't even have to try!

I arrived about 20 minutes early so I could chat a bit with E before class. She said everyone already misses me in Showcase. Awwww.

I plopped down on one of the couches and was surfing on my iPod when Mr. David walked in.

"Paprika! What are you doing here?"

"Oh you know, I'm just sitting around, surfing on my iPod and wearing my dance shoes just for fun. (he laughs) I had to switch out of my Friday class so now I'm here Mondays."

"That's because you can't do the Showcase right?"

"Yes. (I pretended to cry a little) I'm really sad about that. But there will be another one right?"

"That's right."

And then off he went into the studio to do his usual floating-around-by-himself routine. I surfed on my iPod some more and watched him out of the corner of my eye.

When class started, we were told that we'd be learning the Mambo. WHOO HOO! Being the biggest Dirty Dancing fan on Earth (self-proclaimed of course), I was super excited to learn the dance which made Baby & Johnny fall in love.

It's a bit tougher than I anticipated, but it was soooo much fun! And for most of the night, I danced with Mr. David.

*sigh

I know I fall in and out of love with him pretty much every other post. But I just can't help being swept up by him when we dance together. He is awesome. And our dancing chemistry is undeniable.

I JUST WISH HE WOULD LOVE ME JUST LIKE JOHNNY LOVED BABY.

Okay, I don't know if that's really what I wish, but I'm feeling so damn deflated from Funny Guy's lack of communication that I just need someone else to grab hold of my attention. Mr. David does just that when we dance.

I'd love to do the horizontal Mambo with him. *snicker

Anyway, as class continued, Mr. David was having trouble finding the beat. Mambo starts on the second beat of the count. I had no problem finding it seeing as I know the whole routine from Dirty Dancing (well, in my head anyway).

I could see how frustrated he was getting. It's actually a little fun to watch Mr. Perfect Dancer get the steps wrong.

At one point, we were doing alternating underarm turns, and he managed to clobber me right in the head with his arm. He laughed and then apologized in mid-turn. I should have returned the favour. Grrr.

As soon as class was over, I ran away, again. I keep wanting to ask him to go for coffee afterwards but I always chicken out. I guess if I don't ask, then he can't burst my bubble by saying no.

Ugh. I really need to find someone new. You know, like someone who'll actually want to spend time with me. And not because he's forced to during dance class.

Do you guys know anyone?

Be Careful What You Wish For

My partner in Showcase class has been a pain in my butt. Well, more specifically, a pain in my arm because he is forever grabbing and twisting it.

I spoke to my instructor about him after class a few weeks ago. I was in tears because he man-handled me to the point where I yelled, "DON'T TOUCH ME".

I explained to my instructor I was in an abusive marriage not too long ago. And some of the things my dance partner would do were very similar to what my ex-husband did. Namely grabbing my arms and pulling me around against my will.

My instructor told me he would bring this up with my partner's private instructor and hopefully the issue would be resolved.

Every week I have dreaded going to Showcase class. Mr. Grabby is so totally obtuse about the fact that he HURTS me when we dance. I learned that prior to the start of this term, the other women in the class each went to the instructor and begged not to be paired with him. So being the new girl, I was unwittingly the sacrificial lamb.

I cannot count the number of times I've either thought or said that I don't want to dance with Mr. Grabby. I even confided in E that I was considering dropping the class because I hated dancing with him *that much*.

It's funny how the Universe listens when you complain enough.

At S&T class this past Wednesday, Nicole mentioned the owner of the school would again like our class to perform at the upcoming term end Showcase. Since I'd already be performing with my Showcase class (hence the name), I was all for it.

Then she told us the date of the Showcase - May 2nd.

That is the same day that I'm going to Rochester to see a matinee performance of Wicked with Amy B and my sister-in-law.

My face must have dropped to the floor because Nicole asked me if I was okay. I explained the conflict to her.

"Can you get out of it?"

"Nope. Ticket is non-refundable (Never mind this is my absolute favourite musical on Planet Earth!) and I'm the one driving to Rochester."

I was really bummed for the rest of the class. So totally bummed that I didn't even care I was partnered with Mr. David and we were doing all sorts of sexy moves. At one point I had my pelvis square on his leg for a crazy back bend (which I totally rocked, BTW).

So yesterday I had the dubious task of informing my Showcase instructor that I would in fact, not be performing in the Showcase. Which also meant that I would no longer be in the Showcase class.

Which ultimately equated to me not having to dance with Mr. Grabby anymore.

See? The Universe totally listened.

(I have since started a nightly chant of, "I want Brad Pitt to be my husband." I wonder when he'll dump Angelina? Maybe I should revise my chant to, "I want Brad Pitt to be my husband before he turns 50." And FYI, Brad is the same age as Mr. David, so it's not that crazy of an idea.)

My instructor was bummed, I was bummed, and yes even Mr. Grabby was bummed about me having to drop out.

I said goodbye to everyone in the class and just before I left, Mr. Grabby thanked me for being his partner. Awww. Okay, I can forgive him a little bit for being a jerko dancer.

I went downstairs to speak with the owner of the school so I could switch out my remaining classes to another class. I decided on Monday nights which is a Latin class that my Showcase instructor runs.

I explained the situation and how I was so totally upset that I couldn't perform. I told her how much I just loved the school and all the cool stuff like the Socials and the Ball and before I knew it, I was bawling my eyes out.

She immediately jumped up and gave me a hug.

"Don't worry honey. We love you around here. We're not letting you go anywhere."

That was so sweet. So totally warm and comforting and caring. Another reason why I love my school and the people there so much.

The reason behind my tears was because I had come so far since that first Showcase class. I worked damn hard on the choreography as it was definitely a step above my skill level. And certainly I was working hard on being patient and learning to deal with Mr. Grabby even though I really didn't want to.

I felt like I'd finally got to a point where I had a pretty good handle on the steps, and I was getting closer to not loathing my partner. Then all of a sudden, the proverbial rug got pulled out from under me. And it was my own fault because I'm the one who suggested May 2nd for our road trip to Rochester.

At any rate, come Monday I will be in a new class. Maybe there will be a new Mr. David for me to drool over.

I think I'll have to go revise my chant again.

Crimson Tide

I had a dream last night I told my boss I was pregnant and he fired me on the spot. I started to cry and when I tried to collect my things from my office, he wouldn't let me in. I cried harder and told him he was being cruel to a pregnant woman and her unborn child. He didn't care and told me to get out.

I was a bit shaken when I woke up, which of course didn't help the already agitated state I've been in for the last few days. I went to the bathroom and still there was nothing.

I got into the shower and thought about what it would mean for me to have a baby at this point.

Even though I had finally resolved it with myself that I don't want to settle down and have kids right now, I am surprisingly okay with the possibility of being pregnant. I decided I would take my baby everywhere because she (yes, it would be a girl) would be an awesome kid and totally up for anything, just like her mommy.

In spite of that positive outlook on an unplanned pregnancy, my heart was pounding the whole time in the shower. I was thinking about how I would tell Funny Guy, my Dad, my brothers & sisters-in-law, my best girlfriends, my boss....

And then everything went down the drain, literally. My period came.

And so did a huge sigh of relief. I am more okay with *not* being pregnant. :)

It's a good thing too because I was feeling guilty about having sushi for lunch yesterday.

White Rabbit

"Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!"

I haven't been able to find any statistics on the odds of getting pregnant when 1) you're on the pill and 2) he's had a vasectomy.

I gotta say, this would be one hell of an example of irony.

And it'll be one damn hard conversation to have, especially since he still hasn't phoned me.

When in Dublin

In honour of St. Patrick's Day, I would like to present to you an ancient Irish play, told in three acts.

Act I

Act II

Act III


Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Early This Week

Okay. So here we are. Early in the week. Yup. I would consider Tuesday to still be early in the week, seeing as the week did start on Sunday.

...

...

...

Yeah. Methinks Funny Guy may have to be renamed Douche Bag. And I've already had a few of those.

Gah! What is it with men just fucking ignorning me? Whether I give *it* up or not, the result has always been the same.

Silence.

The Blind Side

It's been just about a year since I last spoke with Faux Beau. He "broke up" with me after I was laid off last year. I thought it was super shitty timing seeing as I had just lost my job. Talk about kicking someone when they are down.

I know the reason he broke up with me is because I didn't want him to be my Vrai Beau. It's a long and complicated story but the short of it is that he had his chance with me and blew it. And I wasn't gonna be his second or third or last-woman-on-earth-so-I-might-as-well choice.

He figured he could just come to me whenever it suited him and I'd be so grateful he wanted to be my boyfriend that I would drop to my knees and weep with gratitude. Um, yeah. Je pense que non. (For my American friends, that translates into "I don't think so.")

He and I live in the same low-rise apartment building. In fact, he lives in the apartment directly below me, two floors down. Our parking spots are right next to each other. And the interesting thing is I have not seen him once in almost 12 months.

Until this morning.

I was running late after having slept in (damn time change!) and I was rushing out the side entrance of the building. I noticed him walking just ahead of me, across the street.

I started to panic until I remembered he is blind in his right eye. So he wouldn't have seen me coming out of the building as I was to his right.

I'm really glad we didn't have an awkward encounter. Because I'm not very good at being polite with people who have acted like total douche bags.

At any rate, as small as the world can be sometimes, Faux Beau and I are seemingly living worlds apart. And that is just fine by me.

Perspective

I had the opportunity yesterday to visit the wonderful family of a blogger friend of mine. I've been friends with her sister Marie for over 15 years while Beth and I have been online friends for a good 5 years.

Beth is a stay-at-home mom to 6 wonderful children.

Over the years when Marie would phone me to tell me that Beth was pregnant again (and again), I would marvel at her incredibly awesome life. She was so lucky to have a husband and a family. And then I would start to sulk that I didn't have that for myself.

Eventually I did get married and I felt like I was finally successful in my life because I was poised to start that family I'd always dreamed of. I imagined Marie phoning Beth to give her the happy news that I was expecting. And then Beth would email me to congratulate me and give me very expert advice on pregnancy and child birth.

Then I got divorced. So it was back to the drawing board and back to more sulking about not having children of my own. I've frequently bemoaned the fact that I'm done with the single life and really want to start my "grown up" life - married with kids.

Being over at Beth's gave me some clarity and perspective on that issue that I wasn't expecting.

I came to the realization that I'm not in such a rush anymore to have a family. And it's not because the kids drove me nuts or anything - they were absolutely charming, adorable and well behaved.

I was finally able to admit to myself that I'm not all the way ready to settle down.

I love the fact I could pick up and go visit Beth with no real planning. In fact, I was so blasé about it, I totally left my apartment without packing overnight things like a toothbrush or pajamas for that matter. Thank goodness for Dollarama!

I love the fact that I could go out and get completed loaded on a Monday night. I love the fact I can go to dance class three times a week. I love the fact I gig with my band at least once a month. I love the fact I could pick up and take a trip to Australia and not look back.

I think I was so wrapped up in the, "I must have a biological child before I'm too old" mentality that I tried to convince myself that I was in fact ready to give up my current awesome life.

It didn't occur to me until last night that although I don't have a family of my own, it doesn't mean that I'm failing as a person. I guess because everyone around me is married with kids, I was using that as the standard by which to measure the success in my life. And I know now that's not the case.

My life is successful because I am enjoying it.

I can now say I am truly okay with the way things are. I do believe that eventually, and with the right person, I will settle down and have a family. But I'm not hell bent on making it happen NOW.

If it turns out I can't have a biological child, I know I will feel just as fulfilled with an adopted child. I know this because of the love I still have for my former stepdaughter, and because of the love I have for my best friends' children, my coworkers' children, and now Beth's children.

I can't wait to go visit them again. And maybe next time I'll remember to pack a change of underwear.

Love Thy Self

So I went to the Social dance last night. I looked really cute (I didn't end up wearing the same outfit from my beer bombing) if I do say so myself. I was wearing black pants with a hot pink top that had "I carried a watermelon?!" printed in silver across the chest. (Bonus points if you can identify that quote.)

I was the second person to arrive, after Mr. David. He came over to say hello while he was helping to set up.

It's really cute what they do for the Social. They set up chairs, tables with candles, dim the lights, and put out snacks and a punch bowl. I was tempted to spike it with a mini bottle of vodka that has been living in my purse since February, but I figured it would be bad form to pull shenanigans my first time out.

He finished setting up and asked me to dance before the instructor even started the music. So we just did a Rumba to the beat of our own hearts. Ha ha. Sorry. It was really the beat he was counting out loud.

The instructor started up the music and luckily, it was a Rumba. So we matched the rhythm and continued on slow and sexy. Well, I was being slow and sexy. He was busy looking at himself in the mirror.

I think Mr. David loves watching himself dance more than anything in the world. I think even more than he loves sex or booze.

On the whole, the night was super fun. There were a few times it got nerve wracking when I was dancing Salsa with the instructor and another girl. He had one on each arm and was twirling us around like spaghetti.

I danced a lot with David as well. Most of the time he made fun of me and I rolled my eyes at him. I also found that he watches himself in the mirror a lot. I don't know if he's watching his form or if he just truly loves himself. It was pretty dark in there so I don't how he could possibly really be able to evaluate his frame.

At one point, while he was dancing with someone else, he crashed right into the mirror. I couldn't help but laugh and point. I asked him if he needed me to call 9-1-1. He rolled his eyes at me.

At two different times during the evening, we did group line dancing. It was a simple combination that we repeated over and over, each time we'd rotate at the end to face a different wall.

I took this opportunity to flirt with him. There was a hook step combo which involved some hip wiggling. So I wiggled on over close to him.

He didn't get it. Not. At. All. He just thought I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Ugh.

That is when I decided it just ain't gonna happen with him. He is clearly all about himself right now. Which is fine. I was like that after I got out of my marriage.

And besides, I have Funny Guy as a potential. I've seen more action with FG in one night than with Mr. David in 5 months.

Is it early next week yet?

Being Bold

I polled a few friends and they all agreed I should reach out to him (I've decided to nickname him Funny Guy, because he really does make me laugh) instead of agonizing over whether he would contact me first. I decided to text him, rather than call or email, because text is short and instant and I didn't want him to have to think too much about a response and then get scared off.

Paprika: "I had fun the other night. Next time let's try wine instead of beer. Beer kicked my ass for the whole day yesterday."

Funny Guy: "Me 2. It was bottles! Only draft does me in. Dirty pipes."

P: "Ha ha dirty pipes. Sounds like something a doctor should check. Or a rock band. If you're free tomorrow night, wanna hang out? I'll bring wine."

FG: "Might have 2 b next week. I'm tucking in my boys tomorrow & then out of town until Monday."

Me: "Ok. We'll touch base soon. How's your son's eye? Hope he's ok." (His wife texted him while we were out saying his son may have an eye infection)

FG: "Ya he's good. Ended up being fine. Talk 2 u early next week."

Good right? He's not blowing me off. He was specific about when he'd get in touch. I figure unless he's a total douche bag, he actually will talk to me early next week.

So while riding that wave of courage, I decided to email Mr. David. Yes, I obtained his email address through my friend E.

----- Original Message -----
From: Paprika
To: Mr. David
Sent: Wednesday, March 10, 2010 9:51 PM
Subject: Showcase Partnering

Hey David,

Since you've been in a Showcase before, I was wondering how partners are picked? And also, would you be open to being my partner for the routine if we end up performing it?

I know I probably drive you nuts most of the time, but I promise I'll be a good girl, learn all my steps and practice real hard.

I like dancing with you and I think I can learn a lot from being partnered with you.

Let me know what you think, and please feel free to tell me to take a hike if you don't want to be my partner. I promise I'll only cry a little bit and not in front of you.

Paprika :)

----- Original Message -----
From: Mr. David
To: Paprika
Sent: Wed, Mar 10, 2010 at 10:34 PM
Subject: Re: Showcase Partnering

Hi Paprika,

Well, you have also been in a showcase! The White Tie and Tiara Ball was a showcase. Nicole picks the partners, just so you know.

And I don't know where you got the idea that you drive me nuts most of the time....you actually drive me nuts all of the time :) :) I'm kidding!!!!! I have said before that you follow very well.

There's lots of dancing at the socials...every other Thursday. That's where the truly dedicated practice what they have been taught :) :) :)

If I don't see you tomorrow, I'll see you next week.

Mr. David

----- Original Message -----
From: Paprika
To: Mr. David
Sent: Thu, Mar 11, 2010 at 10:52 AM
Subject: Re: Showcase Partnering

Well, I'm glad to know that I drive you nuts all the time. That's actually been my true goal. Now that I've reached it, I am left feeling empty and without purpose. :)

Your persuasive powers have convinced me to go to the social tonight. It better be totally awesome or I will have to hold you personally responsible. :)

See you later tonight.

Paprika :)

I think I may wear the same outfit I wore when I met up with FG. Ha ha ha. Wouldn't that be funny - going from a 13 month drought to twice in one week. I still have yet to take care of the hair situation....

Just Saying

I really feel if someone sticks something into another person - be it a knife or a penis - the person doing the sticking should check to see if the other person is okay, or not, depending on the intent of the sticking.

No, he didn't get in touch with me yesterday.

Oh Boy Oh Beer

I learned three things last night:

1. Beer is the devil when used as a meal replacement.

2. If you don't use it, you'll lose it.

3. A man will have sex with me regardless of the amount of hair growing on my legs, under my arms, and way down into the nether regions.

I met up with an old friend last night, who has recently become single. I have known him for the better part of 6 years, and I have always had a crush on him. My ex husband hated his guts because he made me admit that I had a crush. One of the many reasons why I turfed my ex.

Anyway, it was through the grapevine that I heard about my friend's newly single status. I sent him an email offering my support. I asked him to keep in touch and perhaps sometime soon we can have drinks and trade war stories.

A few hours after sending that email, I received a message back from him which thanked me for my support and asked me what I was doing later in the evening.

"Having a beer with you? :)"

"Indeed. Meet me at 8pm."

I was still at the office when I received his email around 6:45pm. I flew out of there like a mad woman and went home to try to pull myself together into at least a presentable version of myself.

I figured I would probably only get one shot at this so I changed into a top with a lot of cleavage, threw on some make up, spritzed with perfume and put on a pair of cute black heels. I was thinking I would probably end up coming home alone as is always the case, so I didn't bother turning off any lights or my TV as I ran out the door.

I arrived shortly after 8pm. I almost didn't recognize him at first. I guess it's because I was seeing him as the cute single guy sitting at the bar instead of my married friend.

We drank, we chatted, we caught up, we flirted and about 4 beers and two bars later, he made his move.

I can't really remember exactly what it was that I said, or that he said, but he looked at me and leaned in for a kiss.

It was soft and nice and sweet and gentle. Just as I would expect my friend to kiss me. It lasted a moment. We pulled apart and continued looking at each other. When he figured I wasn't going to slap him or laugh at him, he moved in for another kiss.

And yowza, what a kiss that was! It was everything I ever dreamed it could be. And yes, I had fantasized about him in the past. He lived up to my expectations.

Then we became that gross couple making out in public. Hurrah!

He invited me back to his place and I told him I'm up for making out with him, but I wouldn't sleep with him. I asked him if we could make a date for that later and he said sure.

Then he told me how long it had been since he's had sex.

16 months.

Well, can you blame me for caving? :)

We made out in the cab and made out when we got to his place and made out on the bed and then all our clothes fell off. I just have no idea how that even happened! ;)

Once we were naked, it got a bit awkward. I swear it was that scene from Friends when Monica & Chandler first hook up in the hotel room in London after Ross' wedding to Emily.

It was so weird to be making out with him, never mind naked and about to have sex with him.

I think the awkwardness took hold of him because he was having a bit of a problem at one point.

"It's okay. We don't have to do this tonight."

"Noooooo, you don't understand! SIXTEEN MONTHS!"

"Oh I understand. I'm at 13 myself. But we can't force it."

He looked at me, grabbed me and started kissing me passionately. He um, manned up, so to speak and got over whatever it was that had been holding him back.

He got over it 3 times. Hehehe.

We cuddled and kissed and fell in and out of sleep for the rest of the night. He was super sweet and attentive and got up about 5 times to get me a glass of water because I was so dehydrated from all the beer and sex.

Now for a few of the less stellar moments from my end.

I couldn't have an orgasm. I never have a problem reaching climax unless I am sick, drunk or scared. I was two out of three last night. All I kept thinking about was the fact that I was doing *it* with *him* and that my bikini line hadn't seen a pot of wax in, well....I don't even know how long it's been. I'm totally unkempt a la Miranda in the Sex and the City movie when they were all sunbathing in Mexico.

So I faked it. I didn't want to burst his bubble seeing as we already had difficulty getting things rolling.

I also managed to hurt my right hip. In fact, at one point he asked, "Was that your hip popping?" I laughed and told him I'm getting so old I'll probably need a hip replacement. Which really isn't far from the truth seeing as I could barely walk this morning.

And I somehow let him see me with all the lights turned on. My hair was a mess, my make up smeared all over my face and I was NAKED. Ugh.

I put myself together as best as possible given I was still drunk and it was 6am. He walked me to the door and hugged me and then made out with me some more. He's such a good kisser.

As I left, we each said goodbye. Not, "see ya soon" or "talk to you later", but just goodbye.

I really hope this isn't the end of our friendship. I certainly don't expect he will become my boyfriend or fall in love with me. But I would like to spend more time with him.

Oscar Round Up

My favourite moments from last night:

* Neil Patrick Harris singing the opening number.

* George Clooney looking bored to death.

* Christoph Waltz winning Best Supporting Actor.

* Anything Steve Martin said.

* Cameron Diaz getting completely flustered with the teleprompter.

* Steve Carell making Cameron's blunder look like it was rehearsed.

* Anything Tina Fey said.

* Robert Downey Jr.'s bow-tie & glasses.

* Oprah's introduction of Gabourey Sidibe and the shot of Gabby bawling her eyes out.

* Ben Stiller. OMG, I'm still laughing.

* Kathryn Bigelow double-fisting her Oscars.

* Sandra Bullock from red carpet to tearful yet funny acceptance speech. God bless that woman!

Least favourite moments:

* Kathy Ireland's robotic red carpet interviews.

* Charlize Theron's dress.

* The obvious oversight of Farrah Fawcett & Bea Arthur from the "In Memoriam" tribute.

* Mo'Nique's acceptance speech.

I decided that next year, I'm going to the Oscars. It'll be either as a gate crasher or as an invited guest. Either way, I'm THERE!

The Interview

As I was helping tear down from our show last night, a really drunk dude approached me.

Drunk Dude: Wow, you're an incredibly gorgeous woman.

Paprika: Thanks.

DD: Are you with the band? (This was my clue as to how drunk he really was.)

P: Um yeah. I'm the singer.

DD: You were singing? Tonight?

P: Yup, the whole night. That was me.

DD: Are you single?

P: Yes.

DD: Me too!

He puts his hand up for a high-five. I can't leave people hanging so I slapped his hand.

DD: Any kids?

P: Nope.

DD: Do you want kids?

P: Eventually. (Ha! I'm surprised he couldn't hear my biological clock screaming at that moment.)

DD: My name is Drunk Dude. Nice to meet you.

He puts his hand out.

P: Paprika.

I take his hand and shake it. Surprisingly, it was a solid one.

DD: Are you Italian?

P: Nope.

DD: What are you?

P: Maltese.

DD: Oh that's practically the same thing. I'm Italian.

P: Yup, well there's a section of the Mediterranean Sea that separates us.

DD: You're at the bottom of my boot! (He laughs) So can I have your phone number?

P: Wow, that's really nice of you to ask. But I'll have to pass.

DD: Aw come on! We can go out!

P: Really, thanks. But no thanks.

I gotta give him credit for two things. The first being that I was clearly out of his league but he asked me out anyway. The second being his interview process. He got right down to it and hit all the major points - marital status, kids and future plans. I think that's an excellent approach. Why bother wasting time if the person you want to ask out has completely different goals?

The big thing I'll deduct points for is the fact that he was there the whole night and didn't realize I was the lead singer. Dude, if you want to score with the hot rock star, you shouldn't be *so* drunk that you can't identify that I'd been up there all night shaking my money maker to entertain your drunk ass.

End of an Era

I went to the movies today with two of my good girlfriends. I've been friends with these gals for almost a decade. We used to party together every weekend back in the hey day of being wild and single. We hit every dance club, every martini bar and every place that served booze in the downtown core of the Tdot.

Then both of them got married the same summer I threw out my husband. I had the humiliating task of phoning both of them to let them know they could cross my husband off the guest list. Attending each of their weddings was as wonderful as it was painful.

Both of them continue to be happily married to wonderful men. Both of them bought houses in the burbs and moved away from the hustle and bustle of downtown living.

One of them had a little girl this past September. And the other one just told us today that she is expecting in August.

I was super excited of course. I jumped up and down and squealed with delight as I crushed her in a hug.

And after we wished each other a great afternoon, on the way home I cried.

I am the last of the Mohicans for sure. I'm still the single gal, living downtown, coming and going as she pleases. I can't get a date, let alone a boyfriend or a husband for that matter.

It probably wasn't the best choice to see "Valentine's Day". *sigh

And Just Like That

Today I feel fine.

Yeesh.

I tried to calculate the amount of hours I spent unconscious over the last week. I stopped counting after I hit 80 hours. I'm yawning just thinking about all that time I spent in lala land.

Whatever the hell that was, I'm really glad it's gone. Although, I should have bottled some of it and saved it for the next time I have trouble falling asleep.

Or I could just go and buy another bottle of Jack Daniels. :)

A Little Love Goes a Long Way

Being sick sucks. Yes yes, that's my own personal pity party I just had there.

I had a lovely email exchange with BGK yesterday which made being at work whilst being so sick, just a little bit better. It started when I emailed him asking for the grades from his last class.

On Wed, Mar 3, 2010 at 12:27 PM, Black Glove Killer wrote:

Oops! Sorry! Here are the grades. My new gig is busting my balls...How's my little Paprika?

BGK

On Wed, Mar 3, 2010 at 12:43 PM, Paprika wrote:

Hey man,

You asked me how I was doing via my work account...thought I'd take it "offline" over here on my personal account.

I'm UGH. I'm sick. And the pressure TPTB are applying is getting to be a bit much.

I noticed you mentioned your new gig has you by the balls. I feel your pain brother. Well, not in the balls sort of way, but I get it. :)

When is your new issue coming out? I'll have to get one and get you to autograph it for me. Yes, I'm a total geek when it comes to the stuff you do.

P

On Wed, Mar 3, 2010 at 12:51 PM, Black Glove Killer wrote:

Aww, you're awesomeness is matched only by your hotness. Chin up, girl. You're a major presence at that school. Those two bumblers rely on you and so do the kids...you're just a really positive, warm person who does a BADASS job keeping things running, especially a machine that is about as odd and dysfunctional as they get!!!

My first issue is on stands next month...gonna be a beautiful mess!

BGK

On Wed, Mar 3, 2010 at 1:47 PM, Paprika wrote:

You are too awesome for words. Thanks for the encouragement. It really means a lot coming from you. Somedays I wonder if anyone even notices I'm here. I love your description of TPTB. That descriptive writing is exactly why you are now an editor in chief.

I will for sure pick up your beautiful mess when it hits the stands. I can honestly say it'll be my first time picking up that magazine. You get the honour of deflowering me. LOL (I think that's the cold medication talking.) :)

P

On Wed, Mar 3, 2010 at 1:49 PM, Black Glove Killer wrote:

Deflowering you would be a delicious dream come true. And if my magazine is the only way, I accept the honour.

BGK

On Wed, Mar 3, 2010 at 1:51 PM, Paprika wrote:

I blush, I blush, I grin, and I blush. :)

Why are all the good ones already taken??? Boo. But aside from that, BGK really made me feel appreciated. And that goes a long way these days.

It's so easy to tell someone when they've done something bad. But taking the time to tell someone they've done something good is a rarity.

Thanks BGK.

And now, back to bed...

KO'd

I woke up on Friday morning with a sore throat. Little did I know it would knock me flat on my back for 3 days.

I've spent the better part of the last 72 hours unconscious. I did manage to remain awake long enough to see Team Canada take golden glory.

I still marvel at how my own body can betray me so badly. Whenever I get sick, I get demolished. The last time I came down with a little cold, it turned into full blown pneumonia. When I had a little tummy ache, it turned into appendicitis and a subsequent appendectomy.

But as bad as I've been feeling, I am still grateful that overall, I am a generally healthy person.

I've been reading Eva's blog over the last several weeks. Talk about being betrayed by her own body. All I can do is cry and pray for her. I cannot even begin to imagine being in her situation. I can't imagine what her family and friends are going through.

I'm still having a really hard time with this whole mortality thing we all must face at some point. I figure if I ignore it, it'll go away. I've never made a bucket list because I refuse to acknowledge there's even a bucket to be kicked.

Ignorance truly is bliss.

And now back to bed...