My Summer of Boys

You'd think after dating seven guys in four months I'd have had luck with at least one of them right? Well, you'd be wrong. And probably raising one eyebrow in that, "What's going on there?" kind of way. I know I am. I'm on the fence as to whether it's me or the dating pool. I mean, I am the common denominator in all of these. But here is my defence...

Guy #1. First date was largely spent griping about exs and what losers they are. "She dumped me but now she has three kids with three different guys. Who is the loser now?" Uh, still you buddy, because you have to drag up other people's misery to feel better. Red flag one. Red flag two was him announcing he didn't have any friends. The third flag was him directly insulting me. Despite his follow-up email saying that he thought things went well even though he was a bit nervous and hoped we could meet up again soon, there was no second date.

Guy #2. First date actually seemed to go well. He was nervous, but in a cute, bumbling sort of way. I thought there was potential and after some good conversation, felt I wanted to see this guy again. Shortly after the date, the messages started: "I miss your eyes," "I miss your beautiful smile," "I can't wait to see you again." A little creepy considering we'd only had one, short date. I mean, one message would have done it. But they didn't stop. It got overwhelming. Smothering. Stalkerish. Despite worrying that this was not a good sign, I agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to second date. Which only prompted, "I can't wait to see your eyes again," "I can't wait to see your beautiful smile," "I can't wait to hold you." Uh oh. And so date two went through as planned, all through dinner, unending comments of adoration and professions of true love. For some chics that might be nice, but this was a second date, not a second anniversary. I was not looking to get hitched tomorrow and the whole thing was a little too freaky in that needy/clingy kind of way. There was no third date.

Guy #3. First date was great. Short but enticing enough for a second date. Second date was good. Third date... first red flag. He's a smoker. That in itself is not a flag necessarily, but when he says he isn't and then turns out he is, that makes him a liar. But you know, people will say silly things. "The lie wasn't that big," I thought. But where one small lie surfaces, others are bound to follow. And those surfaced after a couple of months. Text message: "I met someone and I really want to give her a chance." (And yes, after two months, all I was worth was a fleeting text message.) I mean, I knew this was going down the crapper, but we hadn't even talked about it so the fact that he was already looking for someone else and dating others when he said he wasn't and when he was supposed to be giving us a chance, well, lets just say his behaviour was less than honourable. But he really wanted to remain friends. I don't know about you but I don't make friends with lying two-timers who can't even pick up the phone to blow me off. Despite his constant messaging post-dumping, we are not friends.

Guy #4. Nice guy. Nerdy. Cool nerd. Nervous as heck. But every once in a while relaxed just enough to have some fun and make me laugh. Deserving of another chance. Second date, more fun and laughs. But I dunno. Not really feeling it. Hesitatntly agree to third date at the end of which, guy is still so nervous around me that he shakes as he tries to kiss me goodnight. And puts his shaking hand on my bum. Nervousness is cute on a first date - on a third date it's a bad sign. I had to focus very hard to not laugh. Especially as he was trying so hard. There was no fourth date. But we have stayed in touch.

Guy #5. Nice guy. In a boring, put me to sleep kind of way. Here is a guy who has done some really cool things like motorcycle across Africa. But in telling of the adventure can make watching paint dry seem like a very exciting alternative. Agreed to second date anyway, hoping nervousness was his excuse. It wasn't. He is actually really boring. No third date, we have not stayed in touch.

Guy #6. Funny, cute, nice, five good dates. Wondering what went wrong? Me too. He did warn me his last girlfriend said he was always looking for perfection and as a result would end up alone and unhappy. She may be right. Too bad he can't be bothered to do anything about it. Always looking for the one, small, wrong thing. I am reminded of Chandler ("She smelled like soup.") but even Chandler found Monica so maybe there's hope for this guy after all. I'm just not his Monica. Which was disappointing for me. But I got over it pretty quick and I think we may actually be friends. Which still leaves me single.

Guy #7. I didn't even know we were dating when I had to break up with him. Seriously. When #7 and I started hanging out, he knew I was seeing #6 so how did he assume that he and I were dating? No idea. On top of logic, there was no intimacy, no hand-holding, no kisses, no nothing between #7 and I. But apparently we were dating for three weeks. I only realised his error in judgement when he pulled a boyfriend thing that I wouldn't even tolerate from someone I considered my boyfriend. And I had to set him straight. And he was confused. But not as confused as me.

And so there we have it. This is what's out there. Next time I'm asked why I'm single I may just sigh in response.

Moving Day

I actually wrote this a few years ago but the theme on Sunday Scribblings this week is "disconnected" so it seemed appropriate to drag this out...

You know what sucks about moving? Besides everything? Okay, besides the usual (the boxes, the chaos, etc)? It’s that lonely, fearful part. The part where you feel disconnected (while you wait for any sort of communications hook up) – the part where you don’t exist. I mean, my phone may not ring off the hook even when it is connected but the fact that there is no option to connect, that feels lonely. I always want to talk to people more when I can’t. My phone could be working and available and I won’t call anyone but when the comfort of being able to do that is gone, you suddenly want to call everyone. And then it feels so lonely...

That Lizard Has No Tail!

Dear Miss Ann Surrs,

I’m writing to you from the Frontenac Arch with a story that defies logic. So I’m chasing my dinner, right? A skinny lizard – not very tasty but kind of gourmet if you know what I mean. I finally nab him and am getting all mouth-watery over my meal when POOF! He’s gone! Nothing but a wiggling tail left in my little paws. Was that magic? I mean, someone tells me that story and I’d be thinking they need a trip to a psychiatrist. Should I make an appointment?

Skinkless Skunk



Dear Skinkless Skunk,

What you experienced seems indeed like magic, but worry not furry friend, you are quite in charge of your senses! What happened was simply part of this clever lizard’s natural defence against predators such as yourself.

The skinny lizard you are referring to is the Five-lined Skink. It can be no other as this is the only lizard that lives in Ontario. Probably part of the reason you consider it such a gourmet meal! The other part being that this skink is a species at-risk, so it’s probably not a meal opportunity you come across too often. And so I’m quite relieved, in this case, to hear he got away from you!

This tail dropping phenomenon, which is the subject of your concern, is called autotomy. Some animals, like the Five-lined Skink, can drop body parts in life or death situations. This helps them escape. And the wiggling tail provides an excellent distraction for the predator - in this case, you. I bet you didn’t even notice when it happened! But I do hope you found yourself another, not at-risk dinner.

You may also be interested to hear that this skink’s tail may even grow back. Whether or not that happens though, he has certainly bought himself some more time on Earth and may even successfully mate! Only one in every clutch of about 10 Five-lined Skink eggs survives, so this skink is very lucky indeed!

Miss Ann Surrs

Songbird Gone Mental

Dear Miss Ann Surrs,

I am an Upland Sandpiper writing to you from the vast expanse of the Carden Alvar. I live in a nice peaceful neighbourhood. Not a lot of disturbance here apart from the occasional mooing cattle. Spring is my favourite time of year. We Carden residents are treated to beautiful views of colourful wildflowers like Prairie Smoke and Indian Paintbrush. My fellow birds and I call harmoniously for mates and everyone more or less gets on.

But I saw the strangest thing! This striking little grey and white songbird with a black eye mask was just perched on a fence a little ways down from my post when it suddenly dove to the ground then flew up to a nearby Hawthorne tree. Now I know, many of us birds forage on the ground for worms and insects and what not, but here is where it gets weird.

This little bird, I mean this wee, delicate bird, takes its catch – looked like a grasshopper – and impales it on a thorny barb on the Hawthorn tree. And it gets weirder! It then proceeded to rather savagely tear the poor grasshopper apart and devour it! Well, I’ve never seen anything like it! Not least of all from such a dainty little songbird. Has this bird gone off the deep end?

Shocked and Alarmed on the Alvar

Dear Shocked and Alarmed,

What a disturbing sight this must have been for a quiet, well-mannered bird such as yourself. Your own habit of eating insects and seeds from the ground would certainly not have prepared you for this show. Especially when, as you noted, it is particularly unusual behaviour for a songbird. Most songbirds forage quietly for seeds, berries and insects. This bird is definitely different from other songbirds. The behaviour you saw however is normal for this particular songbird species – the Eastern Loggerhead Shrike.

Shrikes are carnivorous songbirds. They hunt like raptors (birds of prey). From a well-vantaged perch they scout the ground for insects, mice, small birds and even lizards. Once a shrike spots its prey, it dives on it, kills it quickly with it’s hooked beak, and carries it off to a throny tree or shrub, or even a barbed-wire fence, where it impales its catch for dining. Although these petite birds act like a bird of prey, they lack the strength of a raptor’s strong talons. The thorn or fence barb holds the prey in place so that the shrike can use it’s beak to eat the catch.

I’m sure all of this is rather unsettling for you but you mustn’t interfere with this behaviour no matter how unsavoury you find it. You see, the Eastern Loggerhead Shrike is an endangered species and the Carden Alvar is one of the few remaining habitats in Canada for this amazing bird. Consider yourself lucky to have seen not just this bird, but this unique behaviour! Many shrike enthusiasts will go their whole lives never having witnessed this incredible sight. But you may want to keep a good eye on your nest lest the shrike decide your offspring look like a tasty treat.

Miss Ann Surrs

some old stuff for now

I found all these bits and pieces I wrote from way back (like from 1997 - that's over 10 years now).

Here are the ones I felt like I could actually share.


January 1997

The ashtray is where it usually is on the arm of the couch next to where I sit. It smells so I empty it because if I don't no one else will. And still it smells so I move it to the other end of the couch, her end. I have to get up early for volunteering that is mandatory retribution for certain avenues that I decided to wander down, regrettably so, and I can't believe it takes a half hour to cook the carrots that I just wanted to eat quickly before bed. I don't want to get up early. I want to sleep all morning and be allowed to wallow in self pity before I have to drag myself to work, a disgusting job at a disgusting gas station. The people who come in aren't that much better either. So while I wait for my carrots to cook I read about pathetic, loveless losers hoping it will make me feel better but I still end up depressed because even these fictional losers have better lives than I do. I wish I were on a sitcom and I could just be happy and have everything be all wrapped up in a neat little package at the end of the day. I had to stop watching tv already because of how much worse a person it made me seem and feel. Time for carrots, then bed, and we'll just see where this world finds me tomorrow.

February 1997

He's been sitting there, completely motionless, for the whole ten minutes I've been watching him. He hasn't even breathed it seems, and in this cold air it's easy to tell. But maybe it's warm in his truck. More than ten minutes now. Is he ever going to pump his gas? And I'm wondering what he's thinking about; someone he knew a long time ago, or the son he never speaks to because of some assinine argument, the details of which are long forgotten and unimportant, or what his wife told him to bring home tonight (milk, bread, eggs, and...and...and...?). Or is he not thinking at all? Has he in fact ceased to think all together, ceased to exist, and just passed away right there in his truck, because it was just his time or because he knew it was coming so he drove here, to my gas station, just so he wouldn't have to die alone. And I just watch him from my safe haven. My heated kiosk.

April 1998

Sitting on the bus there are things to consider. You can choose a seat by yourself but then you subject yourself to the situation of having someone sit next to you who may or may not be to your liking. The advantage would be to sit next to someone who may or may not approve of you because at least that way you get to choose. But not everyone can choose. Someone has to be at the disadvantage and may as well be me.

May 1998

I saw a little girl on the bus with her Mom. They were so happy and smiley. Mom was pretending to sleep on her daughter's shoulder and then the little girl had to "wake" her. When her Mom sat up the little girl pulled her back down and wrapped her arms so affectionately around her Mom's neck and I thought, "How sweet" and I almost second guessed my desire not to have my own children but then I remembered and thought, "Yah, you wait, wait until you grow up and disappoint her. Because you will." And it's true. After that disappointment it's so different. Everything is forever changed.

November 1998

So my sister ran into this guy who went to our high school. He was younger than her but older than me. I remember having a huge crush on him. When she ran into him she suggested that maybe he knew me but he couldn't remember me. Probably due to the fact that I was a bottom feeder in high school. And I'm sure that if he had a yearbook and could be bothered to look me up, he would have been horrified at the implication of having known that I even existed.

December 1998

Pavement makes me feel like I'm in love. I suppose all my favourite bands give me a little bit of that warm fuzzy feeling but Pavement more so than anyone. Somehow, Steve Malkamus' voice has become my idea of romance. Their style makes me drool and lose myself. I need to meet a guy that makes me feel like I'm listening to Pavement all the time.

January 1999

This morning I walked past the oval like I always do but today the massive sprinklers were on and I wished I didn't have to go to work, that I could just run free through the sprinklers, arms outstretched and screaming, feeling truly alive. Of course, I also wished that I could muster up the courage to do it despite the need to go to work, loads of people staring at and condemning me.

"I want to live Marge! Won't you let me live?" - Homer J. Simpson

July 1999

Dream: Birds looked like horses - HUGE. They had massive wings and rich brown fluffy feathers. They ran around and could lift off the ground just slightly, flapping their wings really hard. And they looked like horses galloping or giant flying emus. Then he killed two to keep them and I was upset by it. They were so beautiful. Magnificent. I wanted to ask him what kind of bird they were but I was also thinking I could just look it up in the bird book when I got home and yet I was afraid of forgetting what they looked like.

September 1999

And he said that North America created small pox and the plague to rid itself of overpopulation and that North America causes all the world's problems. But he wasn't blaming North America. He was blaming me.

February 2000

So I didn't want to go to the club and I get judged for it. For not wanting to go to some inane club and be meat for onlookers. And I was only being honest when I said I don't like the music, I don't like the meat market, and that I would much rather go to a club in the city where everyone is off their face on ecstasy and too happy or busy to point and leer at little sober me. I wasn't trying to be a snob, I was trying to explain my unease in clubs like the one they went to. But again, I come off a snob, wrong, selfish, bitchy, prudish. I hate being judged all the time. I wish everyone would just fuck off.

November 2000

I am sad and alone because although there are people right next to me, I don't feel that they understand me. I could sit with you in a room, never talking but never feeling alone. And the thought of you is still more comforting than someone else physically next to me.

November 2000

"It's just your ghost passing through." - Tori Amos

I wish your ghost would stop haunting me. I wish I knew how you felt so I could decide whether or not to stop pining for you. I'm feeling lost in limbo. One call from you and I could put all of these horrible feelings aside and begin to mourn. As it is I have nothing either way except this burning hope that you'll say "yes" and come for a bit to give us a go. Please say yes. I know about all of that fate and destiny and what's-meant-to-be-will-be but I don't know if that's enough for me right now. It's taken me so long and you're so much of what I've always searched for. You're so beautiful to me in ways you didn't even know you could be to someone. How can I even begin to tell you how much I hope you will continue to be wonderful to me. You amaze me. Again and again. Amaze me now. Come and be with me. Please let me try and show you that I'm meant for you too. Am I being too needy? I think that because it took me so long to find you I'm worried if I let you go I may never find anyone who compares with you because you're my basis for comparison now.

November 2000

I am so beyond messed up. I mean, I knew I'd be sad and depressed and miss it all but I thought it'd be a more melancholy, manageable thing where if I just kept myself busy I'd be alright. But this non-stop pain, crying and confusion. I'm so lost. I am scared that it will go on and on until I can't cope and I'm scared of the well and relapse and of being medicated. And I need to just talk about how awful I feel all the time but at 1am there's no one much to talk to without waking them from sleep needed for work tomorrow. The only thing I know with absolute certainty is that I definitely miss "home". Everything here is so wrong - light switches, windows, cars, tv, food, everything. And I can't stop crying and I can't sleep so I keep writing but it's not helping to work anything out. I need you to get me through all this because I don't know who else can. And when I look around, everything that's wrong here just makes me pine for "home". And it really is "home" to me now.

She is probably the only person here right now who can help me. She is such a kind and loving soul and I'm blessed to have her in my life. If it hadn't been for her being here for me I would have had an even worse time coping with all of this. But she has so much to deal with herself that it all takes it's toll and I wish I could be more helpful to her. If I could take her there it'd be paradise. But now she has him and seeing her with him I am so happy for her because after all the shit she's been through she deserves all the happiness in the world. I can't explain myself.

And if you were here to talk all of this through with me I'll bet you could help me so much. You'd cuddle me and comfort me and let me cry and help me to be optimistic and talk me through it all. You'd offer this incredible and insightful advice I never would have thought of and would give me hope back. She listens and comforts and gives me a place to crash as long as I need it which gives me the stability that is keeping me together right now when my whole life is in turmoil. You both offer me something different and so special. And I pray to the Goddess that you two will pull me through this.

"And I'm singing now because my tear ducts are too dry. My mind is disconnected but my heart is wired." - Ani Difranco

June 2004

I'm smoking a cigarette. And I'm not a smoker. I have them because you left them here. And I didn't even know why I wanted one right away. I wasn't craving one and I'm not drinking and I'm not bored. I'm smoking because you didn't call. And if you didn't call there must be something wrong with me. So I'm smoking because I want to punish myself. Because why else would I smoke? I know it's not good for me, I don't like it, I'm even disgusted with myself for doing it. But I am doing it and if you would just call I would stop. But it's not your fault either. It's still me. My hang ups. And I don't know how to get over them so I'll finish this cigarette and I'll feel awful instead of better and I'll smell and I'll probably have another one later. It's a covert form of self abuse, really.

nothingness

i
haven't
been
writing
any
thing.

ugh.

except for work. i've been writing my arse off for work. which is good. i like writing. but then when work is done i hardly want to write more. well, not at the moment. i'm over winter. maybe spring will help. maybe i need to come up with a new motivator. sunday scribllings' subjects have not been revving my mind engine.

must
write
soon.

Chill of Winter (for Sarah)

On winter weekends,
My passion lies in;
Tired and chilled like the weather.

Like me it's waiting for
The stirrings of spring,
Which bring bird songs and flowers.

My muse comes alive
As spring gives way to summer,
And ripe red berries will fuel my heart.

But for now winter remains
Not ready for that first spring bud.
And so we rest, my muse and I, 'til winter gives in.