Posts Tagged ‘Love’

Doing the Right Thing and Hating It

March 17, 2008

As St. Patrick’s day arrives, I’m reminded of one year ago today when I was in a Main Street bar not too far from here.  I’d been stopping in for a month or two to watch the Canucks games and have a few beers.  There was a beautiful server who had caught my eye.

I found myself looking in her direction.  I’m sure she noticed.  We talked a little every time I saw her.  I complimented her every time, telling her she looked beautiful.  She didn’t seem to mind, despite having a boyfriend.  In fact, I think she liked it.  She even thanked me for the encouragement when I made what I thought was a pretty ordinary comment about her career ambitions.

Another great thing about her – as I watched her talking to a co-worker at the end of the bar, I saw her doing the same crank up the middle finger thing that I’ve been known to do.  Others have done it, of course, but I was the first.  I stole it from Tom Waits in ‘Rumble Fish’ before them.  Obviously, we thought alike.

On that St. Patrick’s day she looked extra good.  She wore a green patterned halter style top, her loose blond curls tied up with a stick or pencil through them.  Every time she turned her back to me to enter her orders on the computer terminal, I admired her delicate back.  There were two exquisite dimples near her shoulder blades.  I couldn’t help looking.  They were too beautiful and fascinating.

On my way to the washroom, I stopped at the terminal and told her she had these exquisite dimples in her back.  Worried that this latest in a growing line of compliments may have been too much, I said, “Sorry, am I embarrassing you?”  “No, you’re OK”, she replied.  She clearly appreciated being appreciated.

I don’t know if she didn’t hear them enough, or even at all, but one night she responded to my compliment by saying something like, “I’ve never really thought of myself as being beautiful.”  Shocked at her modesty, I asked “Why not?”  She replied, “I don’t know, I just don’t.”

Some time after the Canucks’ playoffs came to an end, I was in the bar again and had one or two more than usual.  As I was leaving, I came across her sitting outside, her shift over.  We spoke a little, as usual.  In my case I spoke a little too much.  When she got up to go back inside, we hugged and I said something I shouldn’t have.  Then I kissed her on the cheek.  Again, if she minded, she didn’t show it.  She may even have subtly pulled herself closer.  It doesn’t matter.  Compliments are one thing, but I crossed the line.  You don’t mess with another man’s woman.  “I’ll see you real soon”, she said, and went inside.

If something is alright for you to do, it’s alright for everyone to do.  Otherwise, you place yourself above everyone else.  If we all just took what we wanted, we could also have anything taken from us and we’d have no right to complain.  That’s no way to live.

I did the right thing and stayed away.  There has been no reward, in kind or otherwise.  No positive ‘karma’ has come my way, and don’t even think about telling me my reward will be in ‘heaven’.  If any good came of it, it was an infinitesimal increment in collective co-operation.  One more person tried to do the right thing.

Maybe she was interested, too.  Maybe if I’d persisted she could have been mine.  Maybe she was unhappy, or not happy enough, with her boyfriend.  Maybe she continued living with him for security or financial reasons, even though she hoped for something better.  Maybe she was afraid to live alone.  I don’t know.  It doesn’t matter.  I did the right thing, and hate it, but the right thing has to be done.

Sometimes I wish I was more selfish.

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One Little Lie

February 16, 2008

I took a look at the results of The Georgia Straight’s sex survey on the recommendation of a reader.  There were a few interesting results, although they emphasize it was not a scientific poll.  One thing that stood out is the few percent of people who have sex more than thirty times a month, or more than once a day.  Even more interesting was the fact that 5.3% of married women did, while only 0.7% of married men did.  Hmmm…

What else is there?  Have you ever blatantly told a lie to persuade a person to go to bed with you?  No, not me.  Oh, wait a minute.  There was that one time…

Shortly after arriving in London, I realized the English had a serious attitude problem when it came to Canada and Canadians.  Sure enough, I came across a book that listed things that were ‘naff’, or unfashionable.  It included things you shouldn’t say, do, wear, or be.  It declared that Canada and Belgium were ‘naff’.  By contrast, in those waning years of the Thatcher era, they had America on the brain.  Maggie had been promising them for years that it was “going to be just like in America”.

One night, I was in a pub on Seven Sisters Road, I believe, just across the street from a theatre that had been a popular concert venue in the 60s and 70s, where Bowie and others had played.  There was a sort of early club in the pub, with live music, DJ, fun decor, oilwheels, and lighting.

I spotted a pretty girl who really appealed to me.  She wasn’t very receptive when I approached her, at first.  Then I decided to try an experiment.  I told her I was American.  A big smile came across her face.  You know all those enemies of America who call Britain “America’s whore”?  They’re right.  It’s a Bangkok hooker with “FUCK ME USA” painted on her back.

We went back to my place and had a great time.  We discovered, among other things, that she couldn’t pee and give oral sex at the same time.  We spoon slept, waking up perfectly positioned for more.  It was great.  The chemistry was great.  I felt great.  I really liked her and, when she told me about some carnival or fair she was going to that day and asked if I’d like to come along, I wanted to say yes.  But, I couldn’t, because it was all a lie.  I quietly said that, no, I wouldn’t really be into it.

The truth was, I didn’t care where she was going.  I wanted to accept her invitation and spend the day with her.  I walked her to the door and watched her walk out of my life.

Whisper Sweet Mortgages In Her Ear

February 13, 2008

How do you seduce a Vancouver woman?  Whisper sweet mortgages in her ear.  Every woman in the lower mainland of BC seems to want in on the property game and sees a man as a way to do it.

I met a woman in The Cascade a while ago.  Within a minute she was talking property.  She’d just returned to Vancouver from Ontario and was staying with her parents while she looked for a place to buy.  Then she asked me where I live.  When I told her she said something like, “That’s come up in the world lately, hasn’t it?”  She was starting to look on me as a potential real estate partner, which is all she really wants.

Sadly, this seems to be the primary purpose of the modern relationship here.  Feelings are secondary, at best.  With real estate prices going up and up, it takes two incomes to even dream of owning a home.  Even with two incomes, I wonder how some couples can afford to buy.  I guess they have to keep flipping them.  That reminds me, I hope the couple down the hall finishes their reno soon.  The noise is getting to me.

Vancouver has been the most expensive city in Canada to live in for most of the seven and a half years I’ve lived here and, based on what I’ve read, most of the last twenty to thirty years.  Unfortunately, we don’t have nearly the highest wages.  Employers aren’t exactly famous for their largesse.  So, women were in it for the money as it is.  Even a grocery store cashier who I always made laugh had to bring up the subject of money when I suggested we laugh somewhere else.  Sorry, not good enough.  Come to think of it, why can’t we turn the tables?  Where do you find rich women?  Where do they go for happy hour?

If this hasn’t happened in your city yet, get ready.  Vancouver is at the vanguard.  It brought you fusion cooking and mixed race couples.  Real estate partner relationships and marriages are next.

So, if you want to make her weak in the knees, lean in and whisper, “25 year variable rate closed…”  If you really want to show her you’re in it for the long haul, softly say, “40 year fixed rate closed”.  She’ll be yours and you’ll be in debt together until you’re old and wrinkly.

This post appears in the March 30, 2008 edition of the Carnival of Observations on Life.

A Valentine’s Day Reminder – Already

January 18, 2008

There it was, on my monitor.  A pretty picture of red, pink, and white hearts on my ISP’s home page, accompanied by a headline link telling me to “Plan early” for Valentine’s Day.  And Valentine’s Day was still four weeks away.

The Christmas season has barely gone.  It was not so long ago that there were pine needles on the floor of common areas in my building.  The garbage and recycling bins are still overflowing with the detritus of collective merriment.  And, now, we are being called upon to start planning to spend again.

We seem to move from one commercial holiday season to the next, each one telling us to spend, spend, spend.  Our calendar is marked by these shopping points.  We pace our year around them.  Our society is geared towards them.  They are the individual legs of our annual migration.  The ads for the seasonal sales are signposts counting down the miles to the next rest stop.  Retail rules.

If you’ve read this blog before, you’ll know I’m not one to remind people of the ‘true’ meaning of Christmas.  You know – the story of an alleged baby born in a stable in Bethlehem, the city of David, when his parents were supposedly going to the city of their birth for a census there is no record of, conveniently matching the prophecy of the first testament.  But, stories of the increasing commercialization of Christmas are not exaggerated.  The shopping season starts much earlier than it used to.

The same is now true for Valentine’s Day and all the other events or holidays.  No sooner does one holiday or long weekend pass than we are reminded of the next.  I can’t recall a four week runup to the day of romance in the past – ever.  It will be followed by the Easter season, followed by the Victoria Day/Memorial Day long weekend, Canada Day/Independence Day, the August Civic Holiday, Labour Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas again.  All perfect opportunities to shop.  The retailers’ calendar has become our calendar.  Welcome to the consumer society!

You may not even realize how deeply entrenched this is, but, the fact is, many people can only find time to shop on these long weekends.  They’re too busy in their daily lives for anything but daily necessities like grocery shopping.  If they do have time to shop in between, they probably can’t afford to.  If you can afford to and have the time – congratulations, you’ve made it! 

Legendary Law of Attraction

January 7, 2008

I was browsing around to see what other blogs are out there.  As I mentioned before, blogging provides insight into other minds and lives.  They range from the mundane to the predictable to the unusual.  It all depends on the beholder, I suppose.  But I came across one blog that deals a lot with the ‘Law of Attraction’.  It’s basically a new age sounding explanation for something that’s essentially common sense.  Mindsets attract similar mindsets and, so, associate with each other.  Hence successful people are surrounded by other successful people and… well, you get the picture.

Anyway, this reminded me of the web site of a woman I met once.  It also mentions the Law of Attraction and a variation of it, the exact name of which escapes me at the moment.  I found the site after reading about her in a magazine.  Let me backtrack for you.

It was about a year and a half ago, the spring of 2006.  I was standing on a bus and turned towards the back.  I found myself looking at a girl with a big, beautiful, flower in one side of her hair.  She immediately said “Hi”, in a sweet voice.  I replied in kind and complimented her on the flower.  I asked her her name and then what she does.  She said, “I’m a burlesque dancer”.

As it happens, I had recently been told by a woman in my neighbourhood I’d met several times over the past few years that she, too, was a burlesque dancer.  I mentioned this and, of course, the girl on the bus knew her.  I commented that its unusual that I should meet two burlesque dancers and that there seemed to be some kind of revival.  She explained that there was.  We talked a little more then I told her I hoped to meet her again some time as I got off at my stop.  I didn’t.

A couple months ago I saw her on a magazine cover.  I read the article, which proclaimed her “legendary”, and learned some about her life story and her “spiritual” approach to burlesque.  It was endearing and interesting, but I felt a little uncomfortable because I realized I’d still like to see her again some time but I felt like I’d spied on her, somehow.  It wouldn’t be fair if we met again because I know more about her than she does about me.

Meeting again always was going to be difficult, read ‘awkward’, at best.  Imagine the scenario.  I go to a burlesque show to find her and then look for her back stage or at the afterparty or something.  I walk up to her and say, “Hi, I enjoyed watching you… taking off your clothes.  Let’s go somewhere for a drink.”  I’ll bet she’s never heard that one before.

More recently, I checked out her web site and found out more about her and that she also teaches self healing, among other things, and coaches people towards self-fulfillment using a variant of the Law of Attraction.

So, what does the Law of Attraction have to say about all this?  That we’re attracted to each other?  She spoke to me first, after all, but I understand a lot of where she’s coming from.  That she thinks I’d make a good client?  Or is the ‘Law’ telling me that, because I keep running into burlesque dancers, they are my ‘tribe’ and that I’m missing out on a great career in the adult entertainment industry?

To tell the truth, I don’t care about the legend.  I just remember the nice girl on the bus who said “Hi”, because she seemed to like me.  Sometimes I wish I’d stayed on a little longer.