Dear Canada

I just want to say thank you, Canada, for doing everything you do.

Thank you for being such a strong country, Canada. For being the home to people who handle adversity with peace & grace, & who rally & unite in the face of tragedy. No matter what happens, we know we are stronger together.

Thank you for being such a free country, Canada. A place where the validity of love isn’t determined by gender, where diversity is celebrated & protected by a constitution, & difference of opinion is welcomed instead of punished.

Thanks for being such a beautiful country, Canada. From the red dirt of your East Coast to the sepia-toned wheat fields of your Prairies & the jagged, imperfect artistry of your Rocky Mountain range, you never fail to astound me with your physical glory. I continue to be overwhelmed by your sublime beauty, & you’re only getting better with age.

Thank you Canada, for being you: true North, strong & free.

Have a safe & happy Canada Day, everybody!

Dear Canada

139. Maybe it’s me?

I’m beginning to think that I’m just not made for long term relationships. I’ve been in the dating game for what feels like forever & still haven’t been able to find a guy that I can stand for more than like, 15 minutes. I mean, there’s been some casual flirtation, & there’s the barista boy that I’m obsessed with, but there’s no real, legitimate prospects on the horizon—& I’m kind of okay with that, if I’m being completely honest.

I have neither the time nor the motivation to delve into a romantic relationship right now. The reason that I might be single right now? Maybe it’s because I’m just not that interested.

I never thought I’d say this but—I think I might actually like being single.

There’s a certain freedom afforded by being a single 20-something female & I don’t want to spoil it. I like being able to pine over a stranger, or just decide to go on a cross-Canada road trip, or spend way too much money on shoes without having to worry about what my other half thinks. I guess the dating game has gotten stale. It’s not fun, anymore. It feels like a job. Going on dates & making small talk feels like giving a progress report on my life & I hate it. That might make me sound like a bit of a selfish asshole, but I think I deserve to be selfish at this point. I’ve put so much energy into trying to craft myself into this person that other people will like—so much energy into figuring out what about me does or does not appeal to the opposite sex, that, for once, not thinking about the logistics of why or why not I’m in a relationship is incredibly liberating.

That’s not to say that I’ll never want to settle down, & buy a condo with a patch of grass & a barbecue to call my very own, but right now the idea of spending time getting to know somebody, & then, you know, letting them get to know me, & then falling in love, & then living together, & then all of a sudden it’s been five or six or ten years & this is just my life now… me & this guy together, forever. It’s overwhelming, & it’s scary, & compared to the life I’m living right now, well, it seems boring.

 I don’t want to be somebody’s girlfriend; I don’t want to be part of a “we”. All I want it to be is just me.

139. Maybe it’s me?

138. Maybe it’s because I’m preoccupied.

It isn’t even officially summer yet, but I already feel like it is flying by way too quickly. From bridal showers to housewarming parties to new babies to weddings to birthdays to pretty much any other major life event you can think of… these last couple of months, I’ve done it all.

Multiple times.

Celebrating everybody else’s lives is… time-consuming.

Don’t get me wrong–I love it. I am always honoured to share in the joys & successes of my friends life: It makes me happy to see them happy. But when I cram in my social obligations next to work & school & my brand new fitness regimen, it doesn’t leave much room for other things. Like showering. Or laundry. Or dating. Or even thinking about dating, really.

I’ve got a lot going on this summer & that’s okay. It’s good, even. It’s keeping me busy (maybe too busy some days) but I don’t know what I’d be doing with my time otherwise, really. Waiting around for some cute boy to fall into my lap? No thanks–a summer fling seems like way too much work right now.

I’ve got enough on my plate already, & I definitely don’t need some hunky surfer wannabe with imperfectly-perfect hair messin’ it all up. .

138. Maybe it’s because I’m preoccupied.

137. Maybe it’s because I’m smart?

I had the pleasure of talking with my gran the other day. It had been far too long since I’d spoken with her, so we were catching up on every single thing in my life–work, school, men, the usual.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” She asked me, her lilting accent cradled each word. Unlike all the other people in my life who hound me about my lack of significant other, it wasn’t a judgemental query but a legitimately curious one. My grandma doesn’t get to see me all the time, or talk to me about my life & the people in it on a regular basis. So I know that she doesn’t have an ulterior motive when she asks these things… She really just wants to know. She wants to know if I’m seeing anybody, & if that person makes me happy.

“No, no, not really,” I replied (which is really more of a no, not at all), “But it’s not for lack of trying.” I laughed & so did she, before telling me that I’m smart to not have a man right now, & informing me that it’s good to focus on my education & fledgling career. She told me that I have plenty of time to meet somebody, & that I shouldn’t worry about rushing into anything–I’ve got enough on my plate right now. Which is true, when I think about it. It’s impossible to do everything at once, & I’ve got to prioritize the things that matter most to me. I’ve got to think about what makes me happy right now, & what will make me happy in the future… those are what’s important.

To be honest, when I really think about it, meeting a man just isn’t that high up on my current to-do list.

& I’m actually pretty okay with that. It’s not that relationships aren’t important, or that I am resigned to the lifestyle of an over-educated spinster, or that I don’t ever want to be happily in love… it’s just, for now, the person who makes me happiest is me, myself, & I.

137. Maybe it’s because I’m smart?

136. Maybe it’s because I’m in love (I think).

I don’t want to alarm you, but I think I’m in love.

Well, at least en route to love–I mean, we haven’t officially had a conversation really, or even, um, met beyond him handing me my daily London Fog but there’s been some pretty intense eye contact & he even smiled at me once.

So things are moving along nicely.

He’s got the whole Ryan Gosling aesthetic going on–not like The Notebook-Ryan Gosling & not quite Crazy Stupid Love-Ryan Gosling, but kind of like a happy medium between the two.

I dig it–a lot.

He’s got these beautiful blue eyes (turns out I’m a sucker for a set of bright baby blues). They’re round & clear & honest–like two cerulean pebbles set into his perfect porcelain face–& they exude this shyness-confidence combo that I just cannot get enough of. He has an almost-comfortable aura–like a performing artist who ambles around aimlessly all day before finally coming alive on stage.

He’s cool, but he doesn’t know he’s cool… He’s a complete babe, but has no idea… He’s a clueless sort of cute, you know?

Sigh.

I know, I know. I sound like a crazy person–pining over a strange barista. & I know what you’re probably thinking: if I like this guy so much, why don’t I just talk to him? It can’t be that hard to initiate a little one-on-one verbal contact with a dude that I see pretty much every day. & you’d be right–kind of.

It would be easy, but just because something’s easy doesn’t mean you should do it. Why do I need to complicate a simple, pleasurable, everyday interaction with a conversation that, 9 times out of 10, won’t go the way I want it to? I don’t want to know every single thing about this guy–I don’t need to. Every once in a while it’s nice to just let your imagination run rampant… to fill in the blanks how ever you want.

I’m not actually in love with this guy–I’m not completely delusional. But it gives me something to look forward to every day, &, for a busy single girl, sometimes that’s more than enough.

136. Maybe it’s because I’m in love (I think).

135. Maybe it’s because I’m old-fashioned?

I was out for dinner with a couple of friends the other night & the topic of relationships came up (as it oftentimes does when I’m around–occupational hazard).

We were discussing our relationships (or lack thereof) when our server wandered over & chimed in. “All of my roommates have boyfriends that they met on Tinder,” she said.

I was surprised, but then my friend at the table reminded me of how her best friend is currently seeing a guy she met through the dating app, & my other friend commented on how he knows a couple that met via another vein of social media: the popular photosharing app, Instagram.

They’ve been married, he informed me, for 4 years.

What?!

Maybe I’m going about this all wrong: I’ve been trying to meet a man the old-fashioned way. You know? I’m thinking that I’ll run into a guy while I’m grocery shopping–we’ll make eye contact over a crate of day-old hamburger buns–or maybe I’ll meet a dude on one of my many trips to the river valley–he’ll be walking his adorable golden retriever & I’ll be walking my adorable self–but the reality is that’s not how life works anymore. It’s 2015, Tinder has taken off, & I need to get with the program (apparently).

Relationships just don’t happen as organically as they used to, I guess. This makes me a little bit disappointed because I find apps like Tinder to be a forceful & kind of a gross way to meet people. Not only that, but it takes a lot of effort to wade through the way-too-forward & misogynist overatures to finally get to a guy that actually gives a shit about the female form on the other end of the line… & I just don’t have the time for that right now.

All I really want is to meet a guy & enjoy the migration from friends to, you know, more-than-friends, to will-you-be-my-girlfriend? territory. I don’t want guys bending over backwards, opening doors & chivalrously throwing coats over puddles–I’m not quite that archaic &, I mean, feminism is still a thing–but I do want some of the mystery from a blooming relationship that I think the advent of social-media-based dating practices route around.

I don’t want to see a picture of a guy shirtless before I even know his last name. I want to experience the natural joy of getting to know a person–I just want to date the good, old-fashioned way.

135. Maybe it’s because I’m old-fashioned?

134. Maybe it’s because all the good ones are taken?

Where have all the good men gone? Seriously, does anybody know?

I mean, I have my theories: it could be an evolutionary problem (good men are going extinct!), a geographical issue (they’ve all migrated somewhere else for the Winter… & Spring, & Summer, & Fall), or, the last & most likely option, maybe they’ve been snapped up already by some lucky, lucky ladies who I am trying not to hate.

I have never thought that meeting the right guy would be easy. But I honestly didn’t think it would be this hard. I’m getting sick of the dating game… It used to be fun but now it’s just tedious & sad. I’ve spent so much time already sifting through men trying to find the apparently elusive nice guy in a field of assholes.

Actually, I’m not even just looking for a nice guy anymore… I’ve lowered my standards (once again) & now I’d settle for any dude that isn’t completely boring or a total misogynistic pig.

Yeah, believe it or not, that’s the bar. Those are the kind of guys that I meet.

Boring assholes who think it’s okay to objectify women & very rarely have a sense of humour or a brain. &, yeah, I’m not giving any more guys like that a chance… it’s not worth it–trust me.

I just don’t know anymore. I don’t know if there’s any good guys left. Maybe there is & I’m looking in the wrong places, or maybe there is & they don’t want me, or maybe there isn’t & I’m doomed to be alone forever. I just don’t know. 

What I do know is that a ton of effort goes into dating, & relationships, & all that couply bullshit is never as maintenance-free as it looks. & I don’t have a problem with putting the work in… I’d just like to meet somebody who’s actually worth it: I’d just like to catch some sort of break & meet a guy who isn’t a complete jerk.

Is that really too much to ask?

134. Maybe it’s because all the good ones are taken?

Maybe it’s because I forgot!

It turns out that in my old age I’ve started to become a bit forgetful… & kind of confused sometimes. It’s embarrassing & inconvenient, especially when I forget something as important as my weekly date with my readers. This past week for me was absolute craziness (I started a new job & stuff) & putting together a blog post completely slipped my mind.

I know, I’m the worst. I’m sorry. Please forgive me?

Luckily for me, it’s the long weekend (Happy Victoria Day fellow Canadians!) & I’m sure all of you were way too busy enjoying an extra day off to be too concerned. You can’t be too mad when the sun is shining, the birds are singing, & the BBQ is grilling something delicious–right?

The point is, I’m still alone & I promise to be better next week & for as long as I don’t have a boyfriend (indefinitely or forever–whichever comes first).

Thanks for being so understanding: you guys are always the best!

Maybe it’s because I forgot!

133. Maybe it’s because I’m stuck?

It feels like everybody I know is moving right now.

You know, buying a house, renting a place, building a condo… all of my friends are relocating. They’re moving forward–they’re onto the next stage in their lives. & I’m not moving at all, it feels like. Especially not in the traditional sense of the word (I might actually have to live with my parents until I die).

A quick peek at my Facebook says it all: engagement announcements, housewarming party invitations, photos of babies in various stages of development. I scroll through updates on old friends starting new jobs, getting accepted into law school, building homes in safe neighbourhoods… going on expensive trips, leading lavish lives, being real, functioning adults. & then there’s me: sitting at home binge-watching episodes of Teen Wolf & Googling Jonathan Taylor Thomas.

I mean, okay, yeah, I might be getting a little dramatic here–apologies, apologies. I do more than watch terrible teen dramas & research the lives of child stars. I write–sometimes. & I read all the time. & I am always learning new things from the things I look up on the internet that aren’t about babely actors from the 90s. I also spend a lot of time outside–running, walking, hugging trees, talking to plants… the usual outdoorsy stuff. I also spend a lot of time with all the beautiful, wonderful, patient people in my life–gabbing, complaining, experiencing, doing karaoke… all very normal things that everybody does with their friends (right?). & right now I’m taking a spring class (Social Psychology) & I’m on the cusp of starting a kickass internship with a kickass organization & I’m trying to pull together a semi-impromptu anthology, so my life is very full.

It’s just full of different things, I guess.

I might not be getting engaged/getting married/having children/being a functioning member of society. But I’m also definitely not interested in doing any of those things (barring the functioning member of society stuff–that would be alright).

So, yes, I am not moving. Physically I’m rooted here, alone, entrenched in a quagmire of homework, Netflix, & half-finished stories… but that’s okay. Something tells me I’m stuck exactly where I need to be.

133. Maybe it’s because I’m stuck?

132. Maybe it’s because I’m friendly.

I have a bad habit of falling in luv with my friends.

I’ve never had that instant spark with a dude, you see. My attractions are always a slow burn. A tiny, minute ember that eventually warms into a wee flame, & that then flares into a full-blown conflagration, & then, before you know it, I’m consumed.

This is a problem. & I’ll tell you why.

It all started with my best guy friend from high school & it’s been a steep slope since then. I just… I become friends with a guy, & we hang out a couple times (in the most severe case, we moved in together–that was a mistake & a half), & then as soon as I’ve been sufficiently friend-zoned I start to have feelings for him. It’s a pattern that I fall into every single time. By the time I realize I actually kinda dig the dude, it’s too late. We’re friends now. We’ve shared gross, intimate details. I know too much. & besides that, I’m one of the guys.

You don’t date one of the guys.

I don’t know how to not be someone’s friend–I don’t know how to be someone’s potential girlfriend. I have this tendency to get immediately close to people & with guys that means I’m herded straight into the quicksand of romance: the friend-zone. I’m never the girl guys want to be with; I’m always the girl guys talk to about the other girls they want to be with. Because I am a great listener. & I give awesome advice. Because I’m a great friend. 

Ugh, it sucks. It doesn’t suck to have friends who trust me & look to me for guidance–that’s pretty great. Don’t get me wrong: I like being that person people turn to in times of need. What I don’t like is when a dude I am finally romantically interested in babbles to me incessantly about the beautiful girl(s) he wants to be with. This happens to me all. the. time. 

& I don’t know why. 

For other girls I know it just seems so easy. They put out this sexy, charismatic, babely energy that makes men swoon. I just don’t get it–what do they have that I don’t? (Other than boyfriends/fiancés/husbands/random men falling at their feet of course).

I’m not completely sure. But I think it has to do with confidence & being slightly unattainable. you know, not being so GOD DAMN NICE & FRIENDLY ALL THE TIME.

(Sorry for shouting.)

I need to push past the pleasantness & uncover my sultry alter-ego: let my not-so-nice side out for a bit & see what happens.

132. Maybe it’s because I’m friendly.

131. Maybe it’s because I’m in Vancouver.

Said gal pals.
Said gal pals.

I’m taking my relationship struggles on the road & enjoying a few well-earned days of rest in Canada’s favourite West Coast city.

It’s been a stressful year, so me & a few gal pals made the inter-province trek across the prairies, through the mountains, & straight to the ocean-adjacent metropolis. The trip down was a confused mix of majestic & terrifying–driving the Coquihalla for the first time can be jarring, but driving the Coquihalla for the first time in a horrible rain storm without windshield wipers can be really intense.

Take it from me.

I digress.

We made it to Vancouver & so far it’s been amazing. This city is different from what I expected in all the right ways. It’s very laid-back–I feel like time works differently on the West Coast (& I love it–most people are well aware of how poor my time management skills are) & it’s also very, very… open(?) for lack of a better word. There’s a surprising amount of space in Vancouver compared to the other big cities I’ve experienced–I dig it. & the collision of nature & urban living is everywhere. Standing on the balcony of a friend of a friend’s place it was obvious: look to the left & you’ll see downtown Vancouver’s tetris-block cityscape; look to the right and it’s the Rocky Mountains.

It was sublime.  Also… the ocean.

Oh my god, the ocean. We went down to the beach & just seeing it so blue & beautiful brought me to tears.

The Ocean

Sigh. That’s my one big beef with Edmonton… being landlocked. It’s odd: I didn’t grow up anywhere near the ocean but I am constantly feeling the pull towards the salt-watery mass. Being on the coast just feels right. 

So, if anybody needs me in the next few days (or possibly for the rest of my life) you know where to find me: soaking up the rays (or just plain getting soaked) on one of Van’s many beaches.

Gal pals on the beach 2

131. Maybe it’s because I’m in Vancouver.

130. Maybe it’s because I’m disgusting?

My car is in a sad state of disarray, & I’m beginning to think it’s a problem.

There’s a sack of garbage in my trunk, a half-eaten McDonald’s snack wrap bouncing around my backseat, & 4-day-old, obviously-leftover potato salad riding shotgun. As my good friend kindly pointed out to me last night, the state of my car has crossed the messy-filthy threshold–it’s gone from a minor mess to a major disaster. My car is disgusting & so am I. &, um, last I checked, nobody’s going to want to date disgusting.

I’ve always been a messy person (as I’m sure my mother will attest) but it’s never been this bad before. I mean, yeah, I’ll let the garbage pile up in my backseat… & maybe I’ll neglect to toss out an empty coffee cup or two, & there was one time where I forgot about an almost-empty yogurt container for, like, a day. But putrescent potato salad in the passenger seat… well, that’s just gross.

It’s official: I’m a pig.

My car is an extension of myself–its current state of disarray is informed (to some extent) by everything that’s going on in my life right now… & vice versa.

One should never discount the validity of a clean space. I need to get back to basics–take care of my car & take care of myself. Get rid of the garbage cluttering up my life, kibosh the shit I don’t need & create extra space. You know?

Garbage perpetuates garbage; space encourages growth.

Oh, & if I manage to nab a man in the process that’d be okay too.

130. Maybe it’s because I’m disgusting?

129. Maybe it’s because I’m sick.

I’m dying.

I’ve been battling some sort of illness for the last couple of weeks–a friend of mine insists it’s merely the common cold, but there is nothing common about it. I know, I know… I have a tendency to be a touch dramatic when I’m sick but (trust me) this is a super strain & it’s trying to kill me.

I haven’t been sick like this since I was in the third grade, & it’s hit me when the rest of my life is completely falling apart so I’m not handling the situation very well… to say the least. I mean, I’m  scouring the ends of the Earth for a summer internship, scrambling to finish the never-ending pile of assignments, neglecting to sleep/eat on a regular basis &, now, on top of it all I’m fighting off a crippling case of laryngitis.

Why?! I feel like my body’s working against me right now–I’m being physically betrayed by my own self. It’s ridiculous. & I’m very upset about it. Because as much as I enjoy sounding like Bonnie Tyler, I also wouldn’t mind feeling like a human again. I think it’s on it’s way out (thank god) but for now I’m going to continue popping cough drops like candy, drinking my weight in herbal tea, & crying until I feel well again.

129. Maybe it’s because I’m sick.

128. Maybe it’s because it’s just not meant to be. 

Maybe there isn’t a key for every lock. Maybe I’m never meant to meet a man & fall in love & live happily ever after. I might just have to get used to being alone forever & I guess that’s okay.

I mean, that’s what happens when you repeatedly fall for emotionally unavailable people… Right? If you’re hung up on a dude (& when I say hung up… I’m talking the can’t-think-a-thought-without-thinking-about-him, wondering-if-he-thinks-I’m-pretty-slash-smart, desperate-to-talk-to-him-every-second-of-the-day hung up) who is still in what he thinks is love with an ex-girlfriend… You’ve got to face facts.

Sigh.

There’s no way I can compete with a ghost–the absolute image of perfection that no longer exists but is still alive & well in his mind. I can’t beat that, & I shouldn’t have to. So, I’ll bury these feelings deep down inside where I keep all the rejection, lack of self-love, & reminders that I’m not good enough & just enjoy being his friend.

Because the worst part is that this is a dude who is so amazing… so funny, charming, & intelligent that I know how lucky I am to even be in his life a little bit. I can’t have it all, but who can? So, I’ll suck it up and just be happy with what I can get.

128. Maybe it’s because it’s just not meant to be. 

127. Maybe it’s because I just have no idea what I’m doing.

This is embarrassing. I don’t know what’s happening to me: I can’t think, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat… which is how I know something is really screwing me up.

I have been feeling this confused mix of happy/excited and scared/anxious for the last week or so, and it wasn’t until  recently that I realized what the fuck was wrong. I was driving myself home and it hit me like a god damn bus–I’ve got a fucking crush on somebody. I haven’t experienced this in so long, I had no idea what to do with myself… I still don’t. I’ve just been bumbling around trying not to look like a complete idiot, &, for the most part, succeeding (I think).

I haven’t felt this way since I was a teenager… this excited-to-see-somebody-for-no-reason, googly-eyed glee that I just can’t control despite my best efforts has really messed me up–in the best way. I feel… comfortable around him. He just–he makes me laugh. &, now,  all of a sudden, I have this uncontrollable urge to shower on a regular basis and do my hair, or wear pants that aren’t made of luon. It’s weird. I’ve started noticing stupid shit like the colour of his eyes (I like to think of them as cornflower) or how his nose flares out when he smiles (I find this adorable, by the way).

The point is… I don’t know what to do. Do I tell him? Do I Hansel & Gretel this shit & drop hints? I guess, it’s 2015… does that make it okay to ask a guy out? Or do I just bottle this emotion deep down inside and forget how to feel? I have no idea. I am so confused.

SOS: Please send help.

127. Maybe it’s because I just have no idea what I’m doing.