Moxie & Spice

The Invasiveness of My Neurosis

2007-11-21T10:59:00.000-05:00

I like the chef. I believe the chef likes me.

When we are together he holds my hand, tells me I'm beautiful, strokes my hair, humours my solo dancing in public and then lets me fall asleep on his chest.

Yet, if I don't speak to him for a day or two, I start to lose my marbles. I start to imagine that he must be dating someone else. That there is no way he likes me. That it is just a matter of seconds before I receive the email or the phone call saying it is over.

If I don't get this under control, that is exactly what's going to happen.

At this moment, I am my own worst enemy.

My Three Month Hiatus Comes to a Close

2007-11-13T16:56:00.001-05:00

Gee... I didn't plan on taking such a long break from the posting. It just kinda happened. I logged into my blogger account today for the first time and realized it has been almost three months since my last post.

Quickly, the events....

Well, only two significant ones really. First, a month long journey to a far away land. I literally went to the other side of the world for some forced isolation. I also wanted to be far away from the Ex for the anniversary of my moving out of our marital home. So that is exactly what I did. Me and a backpack, in a land where virtually no one spoke English.

When describing this adventure I am more than reluctant to call it a vacation. It was far more than a vacation. It was cathartic. It was a chance to purge my demons and look deep within myself without any of my usual distractions. It was everything I needed and more. I can't put it into words that justify the experience so I would rather leave it at this brief explanation and move along.

Significant event number two. On labour day weekend I met a great guy and guess what - he's still around. The Chef as I will refer to him is a big brute of a man with blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. His hands are at least twice the size of mine, as is the rest of him. He has a lot of great tattoos, a few piercings and a deep quiet voice. He also happens to be a philosopher and is (in my opinion) addicted to the gym.

He is not at all what I expected. He is better and he is worse. I usually end up with men who gush over me. Who fawn and make me the centre of their universe. I don't think the Chef would be capable of that even if he wanted to. I'm still not convinced he wants to...

He has a busy life. He has a beautiful seven year old daughter. She is the centre of his universe as she very well should be. He is an amazing father - a quality I find oh so endearing. He drives well over an hour early every Saturday morning to pick her up. He then drives well over an hour late on Sunday night to take her back home to her mom's.

His career, as I am sure you can appreciate, keeps him very busy as well. A typical day starts at 11 a.m. and finishes around 9 p.m. or 10 p.m. He also has a dog that depends on him for walks, food, and of course belly rubs.

This means I see very little of the Chef. However, when I do see him. I'm rather happy to be with him. He's smart, and funny, and affectionate, and laid back ---- way back, and hot. OK, to be fair he's probably the hottest guy I've ever dated. In fact, he is so hot, that more than once in a while, I feel like maybe I'm not really hot enough to be dating this man.

Nonetheless, that is exactly what I am doing. I am dating this man. I don't think he's my boyfriend, but we are more than fuck friends. We go out for dinner, walks downtown, rent movies and have sleep overs. But I see him only once or twice a week.

For now I am trying to be OK with this arrangement. I am not sleeping with anyone else, nor is he. I'm not sure if I can be this casual over the long term. But I'm willing to hang in there at least until the new year... maybe he will as well...

A Break

2007-08-15T10:32:00.002-05:00

This weekend I took a much needed break from my whirl-wind dating schedule to take a road trip back to my hometown.

The Wednesday before my schedule Saturday morning departure, my aunt called me. She called for two reasons, one to provide a quick heads-up (something we often do for one another) and to ask a BIG favour.

The heads-up – my mother was going to be there for the weekend as well.

The BIG favour – She wanted me to drive her back to the airport since it is located in the city in which I reside.

To say that I was unhappy with both pieces of information is more than a wee bit of an understatement. I haven’t gone into too much detail about my mother and my lack of relationship with her but I knew it couldn’t be fully avoided.

Ok. My mother is a child hiding in a 50 something body. She is a whinny, easily influenced, victim. There is always – A- L-W-A-Y-S – drama in her life. Yet amazingly it is never her fault. At the best of times I want to scream at her. At the worst of times, well, let’s just say none of it is good.

I hang up the phone on Wednesday night wondering if there is anything I can do to get out of this nightmare weekend. I quickly realize that it is beyond my control and I am just going to have to go and suck it up.

So I do. I go. Take one for the preverbal family team. At one point, I actually went for an extra run just to get away from them all for 40 minuets. Have I ever shared with you my distain for the running? Apparently it is not as much as my distain for my mother.

My hometown is approximately 250 km away from where I currently live. The way I drive it takes about two hours. Well on this particular return trip the traffic was heavy and it was raining cats and dogs. My usual two hour trip turned into a four hour drive from hell. By the third hour of capture, my mother's mere existence in the same space as mine with killing me and it was all I could do from not opening the passenger door and rolling her right on out!

Four hours and fifteen minuets later we reach the airport. That god the kiss and fly is crazy busy and I double park, pop the trunk and give her an awkward hug before jumping back in the car.

So is there a point to this story?

I’m not really sure. What I know is that I am a 30 year old woman who no relationship with either of her parents. I am sure that has shaped me in ways that I have yet to understand. I these two people and their lack of a role in my life have played a big part in shaping who I am today – both the good and the bad.

My need for control, my lack of acceptance for anyone who I perceive as weak, even my in ability to committee to furniture, I am sure it all has something to do with them. On the flip side, it has made me strong, independent, and secure in my ability to take care of myself. I know that beyond a show of a doubt that I can take care of myself, I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember.

Some day, I just hope I can let someone else take care of me.

Mixed Emotions – What Else is New?

2007-07-31T14:24:00.000-05:00

Last night the Ex was at my house for dinner. Don’t ask. I know it is bad. But nonetheless, it just is.

So, the Ex told me he met a woman. He had sex with said woman. He exchanges both telephone numbers and email addresses with said woman. He told me she looks a bit like Drew Barrymore.

Is it possible to be sad, happy, relieved, and want to vomit all at the same time? The definitive answer is yes. Yes you can and I was and am.

Just another step in the process.

Goodbye & Good Luck

2007-07-17T10:37:00.000-05:00

I didn’t expect that he would be thrilled to get the brush off. However, I didn’t really expect the hostility either. The Printer is history. Wow, another one bites the dust.

Is this just further proof that I pick the wrong men? Is this further proof I am boy crazy? Maybe my friend CG is right. In CG’s words the Printer never had a chance. He was my ball of yarn and would only serve as some mild amusement for a short period of time. Four weeks to be exact. Is that a short period of time? These days four weeks seems like forever when it comes to men in my life.

Off to a singles event on Thursday, maybe it will be fruitful. If not, I do have something (ok someone) on the back burner.

Stay tuned.

I Was Wrong - Sorta

2007-07-05T14:27:00.000-05:00

So this morning, yes morning, after another night of the Printer 'sleeping' at my house, he told me. He didn't have much choice because I basically said tell me or else.

Not really an ideal situation but it was making me crazy and I just wanted to finally address the elephant in the room. Well now I know.

He doesn't have HIV but he does have HPV. Not anywhere near as bad as HIV but an issue for me nonetheless. Why you may ask, well because I have MS.

My MS is well-controlled and has been for over three years. However, it is this way because I take drugs, try to take care of myself and avoid illness at all costs. Therefore having sex with someone I know has an STD that I could very easily contract - even with condoms, really wouldn't be the smartest thing I've ever done.

If I couple this information with the fact that the Printer seems to be looking for something beyond what I can give him at this point in my life I think I see the inevitable end.

Being an adult really sucks.

I think maybe I should just explore being single for a while...

Ink Stains

2007-07-03T14:25:00.000-05:00

I continue to see the Printer. We've had two dates a week since we met and it is going well. In fact, better than going well. It is good.

He's sweet, funny, smart. I like spending time with him. One catch. He has baggage and although he eludes to it, he refuses to share the details with me. What he will tell me is that he it has to do with one of his Ex's and as a result he has chosen to not have sex for almost a year.

Yep. That's right. I find the only 'summa luva' who doesn't want to have sex and I'm seemingly OK with it. However, that's a whole other discussion and not really the point of this posting.

The point of this post is to share what happened last night. I had no plans on seeing the Printer last night. In fact, when we parted the night before we made plans to see each other again the following Friday.

So I was pleasantly surprised (but surprised nonetheless) when during a phone call at 10:30 p.m. last night he suggest he come over. Of course I said yes. I really like hanging out with this guy. What didn't realize was that he planned on staying the night. But not to have sex, to sleep with me.

Flag number one - oh oh.

Flag number two actually happened before I realized that flag number one was present. We are sitting on my couch. I am slightly stoned from the small jay I smoked about an hour before he arrived and we are cuddling, kissing, generally making out when all of the sudden he says he's falling for me.

Flag number two - oh oh.

I think flag number three is going to be the baggage he refuses to talk about. I'm concerned about what it might be. He doesn't have kids - I asked. He hasn't been to jail - I asked. Unlike me he's never been married. I have no clue as to what it is, but my brain is working overtime making up possibilities.

Worst one so far - HIV positive, hence the no sex. I really hope I'm wrong.

A year in review

2007-07-02T16:39:00.000-05:00

The winter

The world implodes

The silence hurts my ears

Sobbing
Chocking
Gut-wrenching
Tears

Words so many words
Too many words
Not nearly enough

Mourning what was and was not
Loss of monumental proportion

The spring

The awakening
The first breath
The sense of relief

Conflicted
The overwhelming guilt

The first steps towards tomorrow
Discovering myself all over again

Redefining

Breathing

Deep
Long
Fulfilling breaths

The promise of who I can be

The summer

The realization of who I am

No longer longing for tomorrow

Living in today

The Fall

The man

The moments

Late night eggs
Early morning good byes

Miscommunications
No communication
Insecurity
Independence and overdependence

Teetering on the edge

The moment of falling
Finger nails digging in
Holding on
Not wanting to fall too far

Self preservation motivates

Self preservation wins

The snow arrives
It provides a blanket of white insulation
Cold and warm
Light and fluffy
Hard and packed all at once

Another winter

Another me

A year in review

My Personal Rollercoaster

2007-06-28T09:30:00.000-05:00

Today I cried on the streetcar for the first time in a long time. Today I feel like my heart is breaking all over again. Today I am so afraid of my life without him.

I know that I am making the right decision. I know that he isn't good for me. I know I will be OK. In fact, I will be more than OK. I will be great.

I know that today is the last time he will say I love you. I know that is the right thing. It doesn't make it any easier.

Text from the Ex:

It is hard not to write to you in the morning when I dream about you and think about you all the time. You are the most beautiful when you wake. You are, you were my curly haired little girl. You are truly captivating and remarkably beautiful. You should always walk with pride and confidence. OK, no more morning text and I love yous.

Housemates

2007-06-22T15:11:00.000-05:00

So this week has been a bit of a cluster fuck on the home front. As a result, it has been a bit of a write off on the work front.

The ex has temporarily moved back into my place. Yep, that’s right you are reading it correctly; my ex is living in my house. Ugh. Now this isn’t the end of the world but it does make things challenging.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned this before, I’m a city gal and I live in an open concept loft. That means that the only enclosed space I have in my home is the bathroom. Think about this for a second would you please. I am sharing my very small open concept loft with my ex husband. Can we all say f**f f**k f**k out loud please and thank you? No actually, scrape that. There is none of that is in my future until he gets his ass out of my house, again.

I love him, but really, this is just too much.

Now you may be wondering why my ex husband has moved back into my house. Well this is because he decided to be a dumb ass man and beat the shit out of his housemates friend. Yep. That’s right. He is a grown adult man and he got into a physical fight with his roommates friend.

Are you kidding me??? I mean really, should adult men be fighting each other? I know it happens but it is 100 percent ridiculous.

How long will he be staying with me - who knows? I have no idea at this moment, but I’m hoping he can get his shit sorted out next week and I have my life back.

Stay tuned.

Boy Crazy

2007-06-20T15:09:00.000-05:00

Growing up my grandmother always said I was boy crazy. Although I will never admit it to her, she's right. I am 100 percent boy crazy.

At the moment, I am 100 percent crazy about one boy in particular. I've only known him for a month. I've only been on two dates but wow. I'm blown away. In a good way of course but blown away nonetheless. Let's call him the Printer.

Of course I met the Printer online. I've quickly realized that the online dating this is a bit like shooting fish in a barrel for women. It takes no skill or work on the part of the female just put up a short profile, have a decent picture and wait. Sorry, I digress....back to the point of this post.

The Printer. What can I tell you... Let's see... He's cute. He's smart. He makes me laugh. Our first date, which lasted five hours, was filled with lots of laughing and great conversation. We had drinks on a patio. A little bite to eat, and then walked to a near by park where we sat on a bench and talked some more. He held my hand as we walked. He kissed me goodnight on the street and sent me a text message before I even got home.

I don't think there will be any games with this one. He didn't wait the guy's requisite three days before calling me. In fact, he called me the next night and we talked for an hour.

Fingers crossed. I think I've found my luva for the summa!

The Return of the Ex

2007-06-12T12:35:00.000-05:00

OK so maybe he never really left. But we did stop having sex so in my mind that means he left at least a little.

I see the ex a few times each week. This past week we had dinner together on Monday and then again on Saturday. On Saturday night he invited himself to stay over night. He did stay over night. He slept in the same bed as me, but no we didn't have sex. As much as he might like to - or I might like to, it is not going to happen. I can't and won't let it happen. Just not in the cards right now.

Regardless of the lack of sex, he managed to get under my skin full force by Sunday. I found myself letting him sleep in while I hummed to myself and prepared breakfast. It is so easy to fall into our life together.

As soon as I realize what I'm doing my mood changes. Cranky is an understatement. I'm a mega bitch and he comes out with "It is like I am falling in love with you all over again."

I can't take it. I am a puddle on the floor. I am a crying sobbing mess and I tell him he has to leave. As I lock the door behind him I press my back against the cold metal of the door and slowly slide down to the floor. I let myself cry. Really cry. Floods of tears. Raw emotion. I relish in it for a split second then think better of it. I collect myself, wash my face and get on with my life.

What the Fuck Have I Been Doing?

2007-05-24T15:48:00.000-05:00

So, I log into my account and quickly realize that once again I've neglected the writing. The last post was May 1. Hrmmmm... has my life really been that exciting? I think not.

Have I been busy? Sure I've been busy. But really, too busy to spend an hour a week writing a decent posting? Not at all. No excuse.

So like the little engine that could, I'm going to be better - I'm gonna be better, I'm gonna be better, I'm gonna be better. Or so I will continue to tell myself.

OK. Now that I've got that out of the way. The brief update.

One week in a rather lame-ass American city. One large project. One week at a training course and voila, three weeks later. That's it in a nutshell.

Now, the good stuff - or at least what I currently deem the good stuff.

So the lame-ass American city did have a hand full of very hot boys with great tattoos!

PLEASE NOTE: Just in case I haven't made this perfectly clear in the past, I LOVE LOVE LOVE the tattoos. Mmmmmmmmm YUMMY.

And my wing man, found the one place where they all gather. On the Sat night of our boring American adventure we started drinking at said watering hole at approx. 4 p.m. By 6 p.m. my wing man went in for the initial approach to this rather HOT HOT HOT boy sitting next to me at the bar.

He has been there since I arrived quietly minding his own business fully enjoying the business of the beer at hand. I'm unclear on the details of the initial exchange between my wing man and said hot hot hot boy but it did begin the dialogue.

Fast forward to 9 p.m. My wing man has not paced himself well to say the least and has excused himself to go puke in the alley. Can we all say LIGHT-WEIGHT. For real. Nonetheless, he has more than fulfilled his role as my wing man because said HOT HOT HOT boy has been chatting me up for three hours, made me a paper rose (cheesy but who doesn't love the attention) and I'm sure at any point I'm gonna close the deal. Like any self-respecting single women in this position, it take a mere two more hours and we are leaving the bar heading back to my hotel room

OK. So this is where I am sure some of you are thinking or saying the bad words we like to use to describe women who treat sex the same way that men do. We I am not a slut. I am not a whore. I am not a sank. No, in fact, I am a smart, attractive, well-educated woman who is embracing her singledom and acting like a man.

As one of my BFF's has said to me more than once:

"Moxie, if you think it and it is naughty, just do it!"

That's what' I'm doing and loving it.

That night I did it and I loved every second of it. So there! :P~

My thoughts. Be smart. Be safe. Respect yourself and the person your with. And have a lot of fucking fun!!!!

You only live once. Make sure it is worth while.

A little crazy never hurt anyone, right?

2007-05-01T11:56:00.000-05:00

It has been almost a month since my last post, the reason being; I think I’ve temporarily lost my mind.

In the span of four weeks, I’ve crossed the line (sex with Mr. Producer) had a serious make-out session with a crazy but HOT 27 year old Brazilian, been on three additional random dates and continue to logon to the terrible online dating site on a regular basis.

In the background of all of this, the ex is spending far too much time at my house. When he’s around it is all tears and drama. I love him, but really, it is making me more than a bit nuts at this point. For some reason, unknown to me, he believes that it may be in our best interest to get back together. There are two major flaws with this thinking:

Nothing has changed.
As a result, I’m not interested.

Because I no longer freak-out at the bad choices he makes, he thinks I’ve changed. When I try to tell him that is not at all the case, he says that he’s changed. That too, is not at all the case. He is still drinking far too much, not seeking out any help, spending money like it grows on trees, and not able to make a decision to save his life. It is a stunted existence at the moment and an unhealthy one to say the very least. He's an amazing man at the core and it makes me so sad to see him like this but it is time to pull up his socks and get things together. Hmmmm... maybe I'm not the best person to be saying those words.

As part of my new craziness, I’ve been allowing myself far too many self-destructive indulgences. I like to tell myself that I am making these choices because I want to, but I’m not really sure that is the true answer.

At the moment, I’m terrified that my fear of being alone is going to drive me back to the ex. For all of his faults, he loves me more than anyone I’ve ever been with, the sex is terrific, and frankly with him, it is easy to just be which makes it far too easy for me to fall back into where we left off. I know that’s not the answer.

So in an attempt to keep that from happening, I’ve been filling my life with work, friends, too much vodka soda and jays, and then single girl escapades to round the whole thing out.

Some of the later has been rather fun. Mr. Producer, although not usually my type physically, turned out to be pretty fucking good in the bedroom. A little more low-key that I am used to but soft and gentle and really knows how to use what god gave him. Too bad that in all of my craziness, I actually lost my nut with him one night right after a quick booty call.

What Mr. Producer neglected to tell me is that he can’t finish with a condom. Hmmmm… considering we would only ever have sex with a condom this struck me a BIG problem when he told me. I don’t know if it was because I was tired, PMSing, stoned, feeling inadequate or just more of the craziness coming through but I totally gave him an earful. And in appropriate fashion, he fully dumped my ass the following week. I of course have a rather bruised ego from all of this.

In fact, for the first time in my adult life the following has happened:
I was into Mr. Producer far more than he was into me.
I was with a man (more than once) who didn’t finish – WTF?!? Talk about ego-crushing!
I got dumped from a non-relationship – deservingly so, but dumped nonetheless.

All of this being said, I’m glad that he was the one I crossed the line with, he’s a good guy we have lots in common and I really dig his amusingly cynical attitude. Timing is everything. I think if we had of connected six months from now, the outcome may have been a bit different.

Now, I need to get my ass back to therapy and figure this shit out before I completely self-destruct.

Date No.Two

2007-04-06T16:50:00.000-05:00

So there is a second date with Mr. Producer. Leading up to the date there has been much MSN chat and one phone call. Even though this is date number two, I’m still a little nervous.

Not to mention a little freaked out by my own behavior. Apparently, I continue to be a wee bit nuts and Mr. Producer is beginning to feel the nuttiness. So I need to take a giant chill-pill and just be myself.

The date itself turns out to be rather uneventful. I’m still being way too honest with him and I think it is freaking him out more than a wee bit.

Mental note to self: Use the fucking filter!

He drives me home. We chat in the car. He gives me a hug good night – I DEMAND a kiss. Yep that’s right – I actually say the words “Kiss me” and thank god – he does. I think I might have died if he had refused.

He leans in and gently kisses my lips. It takes all of a nanosecond for him to go in for the second kiss, this time with some tongue. Woo hoo – making out in a car. I feel like I’m 16 again and I love it.

The kissing lasts for a few minuets and then I make my exit.

Hope the next make-out session lasts a wee bit longer!

The Games I Play....

2007-03-27T22:01:00.000-05:00

With MYSELF!

Let me start by saying that I am 100 percent aware of the fact that I am a complete loser at times. In fact, right now, I am indeed a complete loser.

So, I'm doing some work on the computer and I have my MSN open but my little MSN icon makes it appear as if I am not there. I'm sure you get the picture even if my description sucks.

So, working away and then I notice Mr. Producer has signed on. All of the sudden I am a giggling school girl and I'm rather happy that no one is around to witness this sad example of a modern woman. I mean WTF!?!? Really woman, - Get a grip!

Nonetheless I'm sitting there smiling to myself like an idiot.

Sooooo logic may lead you to believe that I would then change my stupid little MSN icon thing so that he could see I was online and I could say hello. That would make sense, right? To the normal person.

Nope. Not to me. No can do.

What do I do? Well, I give myself a time line. WTF?!?!

Yep. That's right folks I am that crazy. Nuts. Wow. I actually look at the time on my monitor. Hmmmm. 10:52 p.m. I will wait until 11:00 p.m. to appear online and say hello. Don't want to seem overly available and too into him - one more time WTF?!?

So, I wait. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight - poof - gone.

I'm an idiot.

The Day(s) After - Part 2

2007-03-26T18:35:00.000-05:00

As I pull the line I want to SCREAM. But of course I don't. I act cool, calm and collected, but it is a giant lie. I'm freaking out in a serious way.

I get off the street car and take a deep breath of chilly late March air. The cold air helps to control my need to vomit but it doesn't get rid of it completely.

I make my way to the cross walk and push the button. I wait for the light to change and cross the street. As I walk along the street I'm looking back and forth for the restaurant. I finally see it on the corner and I have to stop for a second because I have no idea which door is the entrance, and I have to get enough guts to get my ass inside.

From the street I can see Mr. Producer sitting at a table by the window. Well at least he showed up, that a good start right? I finally head to the door - it turns out it is the back door - so typical of me.

I walk in and make my way to the table. When I approach he looks up and smiles. I sit down. I'm finding it very hard to make eye contact. In fact, I'm finding it hard not to bolt for the door.
But I don't. I sit. Giggle. Smile. Really act like a total retard. I know that's not a PC word, but I'm not always so PC.

Eventually the waitress comes over and takes my drink order. Vodka soda with lime. I'd like to order a double but that might be a bit much for a first impression. We make a little small talk. I'm not even sure what I'm saying. At some point I actually ask him if he thinks I look like my photo - the photo is all of three weeks old, who the fuck else would it look like?!?!

I quickly consume the first drink hoping that it will take the edge off. Make my tummy feel a wee bit better. Boy am I wrong. Nope, not better at all. But he's smiling at me. He's making conversation. I'm saying words in response but at this moment I have no idea what they are.

As some point I comment on how weird this whole experience is and he nods but quickly follows it up with...

"Don't worry about it. I'm just enjoying looking at such a beautiful woman."

Ummm... are you for real!?!?! I think he is. He means it. I love it. I'm so happy that he has actually said the words out loud that I want to kiss him right then and there.

Eventually we order a little food. I have three more drinks and pick at my salad. We get our bill and he offers me a ride home. Of course I refuse at first. It is the right thing to do. The next time he offers, I accept.

We walk to his car and I notice how tall his is. The Ex is only 5'9. The Producer is 6'2. Significant difference. Why I notice and then feel the need to compare is beyond me but I do.

He opens my door and walks around to his side. Once we get in he reaches for his glasses. Ummm, can we say HOT! SEXY! Well I can, and I do. Yep, I tell him right there that the glasses are hot. I believe I even add that I dig 'em. So smooth it is painful!

I ask if I can hook up my iPod to his radio as we've been sharing songs all week. I play him a little more Amy Winehouse - my girl crush of the moment, and up the silly factor with a little singing and seat dancing.

He smiles, a lot. I know when I'm cute and I have turned cute up as far as I can. We drive a little ways and he decides it is time to hook up his iPod and treat me to some dark German tracks.

We approach my place and he pulls the car over. There is a bit of silence and we make small talk. I tell him to pull into the courtyard driveway and he asks if he can come up to meet my pooch. He's been nothing but a gentlemen so I say yes.

We make our way up to my place. I'm now in my zone so my comfort level has increased 10 fold as where his is declining with each passing moment. I can read his level of uncomfortable and try to steer the conversation to neutral topics. It works. He meets the pooch. We make a little more small talk and then the pooch and I walk him out to his car.

We say goodnight at the car. He gives me a tiny little kiss on the cheek and tells me that he's had a good time and hopes that we can see each other again. I say yes - of course, and wish him a good night.

As he pulls out of my parking lot I smile to myself. I take my first deep breath in a long time. I don't know if I will ever see Mr. Producer again but it is OK. He has given more on our first date then he will ever know. All it took was one stranger and one night and I know it will all be OK.

I will be OK.

Thank you Mr. Producer for more than just a great first date.

Important Interlude....

2007-03-25T20:38:00.000-05:00

I will finish the previous story in a new post some time over the next few days, however, something important happened tonight.

The Ex came over this afternoon. He is using my car until he can get his licenced and as long as I have accesses to it when I ask for it, I really don't mind. So, he came over to run some errands with me.

Groceries, beer store, drug store, back to my place. We talk, smoke a joint, listen to music and just hang out. As per our normal routine, eventually we end up rolling around in my bed. We had sex on the first night we met and we've had a great sex life ever since. I know this is not an excuse for allowing this to continue.

So we are laying together our legs intertwined and just enjoying the quiet afterglow. Of course, it it is at that exact moment I decide to say it "Ex, we have to stop doing this."

He nods and looks away.

"April 2 is our anniversary right?" referring to the first day we met.

"Yes"

"April 2, April 2, well April 2 it is then."

"Is what?"

"We need to stop having sex with one another by April 2."

"Oh, ..... on April 2, eh?"

I nod.

"April 2, OK."

He holds me a little bit closer and inhales a little bit deeper....

We said it out loud. This is it. It is the last piece of my marriage that I was holding onto. I'm really afraid to let it go, to let him go, but I need to let him go and I am ready.

The Day(s) After - Part 1

2007-03-24T23:20:00.001-05:00

Yeah so it happened. I turned 30 just a mere three days ago. I didn't die. Hell I didn't even cry, well that's a bit of a lie but I didn't cry about being 30, well maybe I did but it is a long story of little relevance. In a nutshell, The Ex came over. We were sitting on the couch watching tv and there was a scene that reflected our situation:

He decided to put his penis into another woman's vagina.
*POOF*
The end of our marriage.

Anyway, when it happened on tv I cried, but really I don't think it had anything to do with turing 30.

Overall, the day itself was uneventful. Turning 30 was pretty much uneventful on the whole. However, the day after. Well WTF do I say about the day after - it was CRAZY! OK, so let also say that crazy is all relative. But for me it was crazy.

I went on a date with a guy I met from an online dating site - in the naughty section! Do you love it or do you think I'm absolutely fucking crazy? Mostly, I think the later. But am I sorry I did it? Not at all. In fact, I'm sitting here with a big smile on my face.

Here comes the self-indulgent detail-filled musings from a girl the day after her first date in seven years. That's right, you reading it correctly. The last time I was out on an actual date, I was 23 years old.

So, onto the evening. I manage to run out of the office at 5:15 p.m. even though the two women who work for me are still typing away in their offices. *Ugh* Nonetheless, I have to go, I've at least been smart enough to book a make-up appointment.

I am telling you, if you need to feel good about yourself in a serious way, this is the best $40 you could ever spend. When I get my make-up done by a professional, I can't help but feel hot. I mean these women are trained to make you look better than you actually do and god bless them, somehow they manage to do it!!!

So, I get to my make-up appointment and perch myself up on the director style chair in the middle of a large department store. PLEASE NOTE: I've removed all of my make-up, pulled back my hair in a bad ponytail, am sitting directly under the worst light possible and it just happens to be in the middle of a busy department store isle at 5:45 p.m. on a Friday night. Sometimes I do really stupid things because of vanity.

The 20 year old waif who is doing my make-up is sweet and beautiful. I'm there almost an hour and never sense even a trace of attitude. She asks me what's the occasion and I lie and tell her it is my birthday. Frankly, there is no fucking way I'm going to tell anyone, mind you this lovely little waif, that I'm meeting Mr. Producer from the naughty section of an online dating site. Nope, not gonna happen.

We make small talk throughout the duration of her applying and mixing and blotting an impossible number of pigmented products onto my face. When she is finally happy with what she's done with me she hands me a large mirror. Looking in the mirror, I see myself, only better.

This beautiful little waif has worked her magic and given me a little kick of confidence to go on my first day in SEVEN years! Thank fucking god for something that could give me confidence. Real or not, I love it.

I thank her a few times, buy a mascara and pay for my session. As I wait for her to bag my tiny black box I glace at myself in the mirror and smile. Like I said, the best $40 you could spend on yourself.

The only thing that brings me back to earth is the reality of time. It is 6:40 p.m. I am supposed to meet Mr. Producer at 7:30 p.m. I still have to go home, walk and feed the dog, change my clothes, brush my teeth, and get to the opposite end of the city. Well, that's not going is happen. I am going to be late.

Are you fucking kidding me?!?! I am going to be late for my first date in seven years? How the fuck does that happen - oh yeah, make-up, right.

I hoof it out of the mall, hop in a cab the 1.5 KMs to my place. I'm sure the driver hates fairs like mine - not even $10 with a tip. I try to be extra nice to make up for the shitting fair but I always feel bad. I think it is part of my catholic guilt, but I'll save all of that for another time and post.

Immediately upon getting into my place I log onto my MSN to see if Mr. Producer is online. Sure enough I see his tiny little photo icon that show's he's online. I send him off as few words possible trying to convey a sense of my urgency.

Hi. I just got home. Have to take the dog out. Change my clothes. Get on the street car. I'm going to be late. SORRY! *insert terrible flashing yellow smiley face icon*

He sends me back an LOL and says that he expected as much and not to worry. We agree that we'll move our meeting time to 8 p.m. and I get my ass in gear!

First I feed and water the dog. I love her. She's a great dog. But sometimes, she's a big pain in the ass. When you are late, she's enjoys being a royal pain in the ass. It is like she knows I'm late and she wants to remind me that she's the boss.

Eventually I get inside and can start to get changed. I know what jeans I'm going to wear as I only have one pair that I actually like. The bottom is totally taken care of but I have to try on three black tops before I finally settle on the first one I put on. I quickly freshen up. Brush my teeth. Give myself a good spray of my yummiest perfume. Grab my purse and my iPod and run out the door.

I've timed my departure perfectly because the streetcar car pulls up just as I was approach the stop. As I climb on the streetcar the pod is playing a little Amy Winehouse in my ears and I'm smiling.

I'm single for the first time in seven years. I'm a mere streetcar ride away from my first date in seven years. I'm totally fucked up. But I'm smiling because at this moment, I have that little bit nervous nausea that happens in the last few moments leading up to the meeting. The official commencement of the first date.

Wow. I forgot how great this can feel. I'm sure if I'm still doing a lot of this a few years from now, I may not be loving it, but for now, I'm loving it. Well, actually, I'm loving it right up until the moment I have to pull the line for my stop. As I reach up and my sweaty palm makes contact with the line I want to vomit.

WTF am I doing?!?!! Have I completely lost my mind?!?!? Apparently so.

It has been one stupid year...

2007-03-19T09:15:00.000-05:00

In the last 12 months I have started a new job, decided to move out of my matrimonial home, moved into my own place, went to marriage counseling, experienced real financial issues, hacked into my husband's email to discover he had an affair, removed my wedding rings for the last time, and will turn 30 in a mere three days. What a fucking year!!!!

So this is where I will begin. It will be self indulgent. It will be honest. Hopefully it will help me make sense of my first three decades on this planet.

So, who am I you might ask?

Well, I'm just a girl. OK, maybe on the cusp of your 30 birthday you can't use the word girl to describe yourself anymore. But really, most days, I feel like a girl who doesn't know which way she's going or where's she's been.

To give you an honest picture of who I am, I should probably start at the beginning. I was born in 1977 in a small city in Canada. The only name on my birth certificate is that of my rather screwed up mother. I know who my father is, but I've never met him.

My mom was 20 when I was born and didn't have much of a chance from the very beginning. She is a follower and a self-indulged victim. I guess I come by the self indulgence in my own life honestly - more on that later.

Quickly following my birth she attached herself to the wrong crowd. Got too involved with drugs and the lifestyle that accompanies serious drug use and soon became the typical addict.

I spent the first nine years of my life surrounded by her bad decisions and being exposed to things a child should never see or hear. At the ripe old age of nine she asked me the following question - "Would you like to move with me and Asshole [said user/abuser boyfriend of the day] or would you like to stay here with your grandparents?" Like there was ever even a choice?!?!

My grandparents had been coming to my rescue time and time again, I wasn't about to get up move thousand of miles away from the two people who saved. No fucking way was I moving anywhere with this woman and the Asshole. So at nine years of age, I said goodbye to my mother and that relationship. Well, at least I thought I did.

Fast forward 21 years, and too much money on therapy, I did no such thing. I didn't kiss that relationship goodbye, I just dug it a hole in my mind and hid it there. The problem is, it has been fucking with my life ever since. We will come back to this many many times in the future - of that I am sure!

Over the next year I will share with you all my neurotic musings. I will bitch about my job, my ex, my family and I'm sure even some of my friends. I will be honest and real. I will not sugar coat any of it. Will it be as self-indulgent as described - you bet. Will there be juicy bits - I sure as hell hope so!!!

So, I am pleased to welcome you aboard Moxie & Spice. Please take a moment to ensure that your seat belt is securely fastened, your seat and tray are in their upright position as we are ready to takeoff.