Spinster

My roommate and I get along really, really well. To the point that when she’s not home, I feel lonely. Most of the time. Sometimes, I love having our apartment to myself cause then I get to do things like walk around naked outside of my room while getting ready in the morning. But I digress.

So, Lorien has this boyfriend, Dave, who is a pretty decent guy, even though he’s been known to answer to the name “Bitch.” Lorien and Dave–maybe I should just call them Dorien, or Lave–spend A LOT of time together. Like, if she’s not sleeping at his house, he’s sleeping at our apartment.

Lorien also works evenings/nights and I work days, so she’s usually getting home from work when I’m getting ready for bed. She had the past two days off, so she stayed at Dave’s, and tonight, Lave will be at my place. Can I maybe, possibly, see my roommate sans boyfriend? Just, like, a couple of times a week?

I met my date at the Art Gallery of Ontario last night. There’s an Andy Warhol exhibit up that my friend Stephanie had invited me to see, so I immediately third-wheeled her by inviting my Lavalife date, who (whom?) we shall refer to as Java. (That’s the first initial of his first name + Lava – L = Java. I’m clever.)

I was worried that I wouldn’t recognize him, and as I was standing outside of the museum at 8, I was scrutinizing every single person in the immediate vicinity. However, when he walked up, I recognized him immediately. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and black shoes. I wore a white skirt and a black tank top and my hair was down. And blow-dried! I have to say that I didn’t find him that attractive physically, but the conversation flowed SO well.

We walked through the exhibit and had the option of getting the audio tour listening thingy, but Java said that since I’d already seen the show I could be the tour guide. (An aside: why do people always choose the audio guide? I understand it if you’re alone, but if you’re with a date or friends, wouldn’t you like to actually TALK to them about the art?) I don’t know very much about Andy Warhol, but in a history of photography class that I took a couple of years ago, we studied a few of his pieces, so I did have a little bit to say. Warhol’s art is definitely not something you would take a child or the elderly to see–his silkscreens involve car accidents, and his videos include guys making out on the couch and blowjobs.

We breezed through the museum in about half an hour, and while I’m glad I saw the exhibit, it was kind of hard to talk to Java because the gallery was dead silent, as everyone had the audio thing glued to their ears. I felt like I was screaming in a library when I commented on anything.

After Warhol, we walked around the neighborhood, trying to find Baldwin Street. Eventually, we asked a guy on the street for directions and found the place. We went to a little Mexican restaurant called Margarita’s, which was rumored to serve excellent drinks. Wonder of wonders, there was a spot on the patio, so we grabbed it. We ordered margaritas and guacamole (I haven’t eaten breakfast and I’m making myself hungry right now) and settled in for a few hours of conversation.

The conversation flowed sooooooo well. Java asked me a bunch of questions about myself; we talked about my program, and movies, and dating. We seem to have a similar sense of humor and like the same kinds of movies. I told him lots of stories about my family and he told me a bit about his.

At the end of the night, we were both taking the subway–and now that I think about it, while I was taking the northbound one and assumed that Java was too, he was actually taking the southbound line, but because I assumed we were riding the train together, he got on the subway car with me. D’oh!–and he got off at my stop. We gave each other a kiss on the cheek and he asked if I’d like to go out with him again, and I said yes.

Post-date wrap-up:
Not bad for a first date. Excellent conversation, felt very comfortable with him. Not sure I am/will be sexually attracted to him, but still, not a bad start at all.

In my entire life, since my first kiss at the age of 12, I have not had a sober first kiss or a sober first date. With anyone. Ever. I’ve always used alcohol as a social lubricant; after a few drinks, I become more relaxed, funnier, and more flirtatious. However, recent events that shall not be discussed on this blog have brought it to my attention that perhaps getting sloppy the first time I meet someone isn’t the way to go. This was confirmed by my therapist, who pointed out that my friends don’t have to be drunk in order to enjoy my company, nor I theirs. That’s true, but I honestly cannot imagine a world in which I go on a first date without drinking.

I have a date tonight with a guy I met on Lavalife. We’ve been emailing back and forth for a couple of weeks, and so far so good. I’m not content to email or IM forever, though, so I suggested that we meet. We’re going to go to the Andy Warhol exhibit at the AGO and then out for drinks.

This guy is 32, a bit older than me, and I’m a little worried about coming across as very young. There’s not much I can do about my current place in life, but I figure that acting like a teenager is something I can curb. With that in mind, I present you my goals for tonight’s date:
1. Do not get drunk.
2. Do not remove any articles of clothing except shoes.
3. Try not to say “like” every other word
4. Try not to swear as much as I usually do

If I can do those four things, I’ll be fine.

Wish me luck

I went to a stitch n bitch at a local yarn store tonight with Lorien and Stephanie. Lorien and I were late, as usual, much to Stephanie’s dismay. She was about to leave when we finally showed up.

The three of us sat around the table with maybe 7 or 8 other women of a range of ages. Two women brought their kids. I don’t mind children as long as they’re reasonably well-behaved; more often, it’s the parents or child-loving adults (usually women) that I have problems with. This time, the parents were fine.

However, the conversation turned to one of the kids’ experience at Build-a-Bear. For those of you not in the know, Build-a-Bear is this horrendous store that allows you to “make” your own teddy bear or cat or other cloyingly cute stuffed animal, and is usually stuffed to the gills with giddy, screaming children (girls, almost every one) and worse, single women who have some kind of weird obsession with teddy bears. But it’s not as if you are sewing the clothes for the bear, or whatever. You pick these clothes from a bin. The outfits are all insipid. Like, who wants a teddy bear that looks like a schoolgirl? I suppose, if a child wants a teddy bear that looks like a schoolgirl, that’s fine, since children are supposed to have bad taste in everything. But adult women? Clearly single adult women? Clearly single adult women whose behavior will ensure that they are forever single? The whole place smacks of desperation and I avoid Build-a-Bear the way I avoid Toys-R-Us.

Anyway, this one woman was chattering on and on about how she just loves Build-a-Bear and awwww isn’t it so cute that the little girl made a cat named Kelly or Kissy or some other stupid name that begins with a K. Ugh. I seriously can’t stand grown women who talk to children like that. The girl must have been four, clearly old enough to have a conversation with someone that goes beyond awwww and aren’t you adorable.

After about half an hour, Lorien and Stephanie and I hightailed it out of there and went to Trinity Bellwoods Park, where we had our own little knitting circle on the grass. So much better.

I wouldn’t call myself a superstitious person, but I LOVE reading my horoscope. Rob Brezsny, of Free Will Astrology, does the best horoscopes. They’re great: random, funny, poignant. Sometimes I read them all and choose the one I like the most.

To give you a sample, here’s his horoscope for my sign, Taurus, for the week of July 12:

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): Surveys show that two out of every ten people have bought stuff they found out about through e-mail spam. While you’re no doubt too sophisticated to be among that number, you might want to open your mind a bit to the possibility. That’s because the astrological omens suggest you may soon receive useful information and out-of-the-blue inspiration from sources you’ve ignored in the past–even chattering gossipers and questionable teachers and TV news shows. Don’t be too sure you already know where your juiciest clues will be coming from.

This week, though, I’m going to have to go with Capricorn:

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): You: difficult to push around, more hungry for intimacy than you let on, smarter than 85 percent of the people you know. Me: provider of friendly shocks, fond of playing a didgeridoo in the rain at dusk and dawn, outrageously tolerant of other people’s eccentricities. So is there any hope of a relationship between us? Well of course there is. We’re having a relationship right now, aren’t we? Maybe it’s not the exact kind of connection you’d like to have with me, but you’ve got to admit there’s value in it. Now please apply that lesson to your thinking about all your close alliances: Love them for what they are, and don’t criticize them for what they’re not.

Love him, love him, love him.

I am 25 going on 70. This weekend, all I did was knit. And spin. I did go to a friend’s house last night, but by 10:30 and after two beers, I was tired and ready to go home. The streetcar and the Spadina subway station were filled with people my age, all dressed up for a night out, which clearly had not yet begun when I was making my way home. I was in bed by midnight. Sometimes, I feel really lame for these lazy weekends. I was pretty busy last weekend which I suppose makes up for this one, but still.

Anyway, I finished spinning half of a batt of Corriedale today. I didn’t ply it cause I want to knit a scarf using a twisted single, as shown in the Spring 2006 Spin-Off.
Here’s the yarn on my niddy noddy:

Yeah, I have a PVC niddy noddy. Sorry that it’s not burnished wood or whatever, but for a couple of bucks at the hardware store, this one suits me just fine.

Here’s a sort-of close-up of the yarn. I wanted to show off the colors but my camera battery died before I could take a billion pictures. (So I could have just changed batteries, as I was home, but I didn’t. Oh well.)

The only fiber festival I have ever attended was a small one outside of Portland, Oregon. I lived there for five years and never even made it to Black Sheep.

No longer will I ignore the fiber opportunities that stare me in the face, however! I am going to Rhinebeck!

I live in Toronto, which is a hop skip and a jump to New York State, in which Rhinebeck resides. Throw in a couple of friends, a rental car, and a cheap hotel (reserved this morning, thank you very much), and you have yourself a fiberlicious weekend in October to look forward to!

As soon as I read a review of Terry Glavin’s Waiting for the Macaws in the Globe and Mail, I knew I was going to read this book.

I believe wholeheartedly–and fervently–that environmental destruction is one of our most violent and senseless crimes. Every day, species disappear from our planet, not as a result of some freak cosmic event–a meteor collision, for example–but because of our actions. Our selfish, avoidable actions.

Glavin illustrates the disappearance of species after species by isolating different animals–a tiger, a whale–that have inextricable ties to human cultures, and whose extinction has enormous ramifications for the world at large. In doing so, he reinforces the oft-forgotten truth that, no matter how hard we try to separate ourselves from nature, to elevate ourselves to a guilt- and consequence-free position above our actions, we are still inhabitants of planet Earth. Every species we hunt and villify and poach out of existence; every unique human culture we strip of its language and customs and, ultimately, dignity; every single time we support politicians whose environmental and humanitarian policies set us back instead of moving us ahead; every wasted opportunity to teach children to have respect for all life forms–each and every one of these willfully ignorant and destructive actions will come back to hurt us, tenfold.

They will hurt the mammals and birds and fish and insects and plants, sure, and they will hurt the poor and land-dependent first, but eventually, they will hurt us, too.

That’s what gets to me the most–it’s not enough to realize that our actions hurt others; we have to realize that, in the end, we are hurting ourselves, in order for us to stop. Stop killing, stop mining, stop raping, stop overfishing, stop being heartless.

I’m going to step down off my soapbox long enough to say that Glavin is actually making me reconsider vegetarianism. It takes a lot to make me do that.

Now, get your hands on this book. Beg, borrow, steal: I don’t care how, just get it.

Ok, so I have a confession to make. I’m trying online dating. I know, I know, it’s lame. And I swore I’d never do it, but after hearing from a coworker that she met her fiancee online, I signed up for it.

[Here's where I explain how LL works. Signing up is free, as is sending and receiving "smiles," which basically just let people know that something about them has caught your eye. If you want to make IM or e-mail contact with that person, however, you have to buy credits.]

LL seems to attract mainly gym-bound yuppies. Now, I’m not exactly looking for someone who’s obese and unemployed, but I’m just not a gym rat. I walk, I eat well, that’s enough for me. I hate running and just don’t care enough to do sit ups or lift weights or whatever. Additionally, while I’d like to meet someone who has a decent job that they enjoy, salaries don’t matter to me. I don’t need or even want to date someone who’s so concerned with his career that he has no time for me.

So, while LL may not be the perfect place for me to meet my kind of guy, I really don’t have the time or money to hang out at emo shows or the architecture and design faculty or whatever. Plus, having to guess someone’s sexual orientation annoys me, as I don’t really like barking up the wrong tree.

I have definitely received plenty of smiles from people I have no attraction to and no interest in, but for the most part,they seem harmless and decent enough. It’s a simple issue of compatibility.

Today, though, I received a smile from this gem.
First, he writes, “Anyone who needs things like foundation and other touch-ups to look really good must realize the irony in someone drooling over their “looks”. It is a fact that in the animal kingdom the males are naturally more beautiful than the females. So by connecting the dots it must seem obvious the implications of that and therefore, who should be pining for who?”

It gets better.

Here’s this:
“Personally, I take pride in my “chauvinistic” abilities to see all this stuff. Even more so when someone gets upset over it and gets their beliefs handed to them in pieces.”

Next, he commiserates with those who really get it, those who have seen and understood the need to “go with the flow,” and counsels these kindred spirits to not let it get them down: “Let the haters hate.”

This is my favorite part, however:
“If you’ve ever had that feeling of “missing out” and never want to go through that again, then we might have something to talk about…”

And here’s the clincher:
“PS. Since I don’t have any credits you will have to message me.”

Uh huh. Yeah, I’ll get right on that, you fabulous catch of a man.

Hilarious. Just try it.