This Is What It Should Look Like After 38 Years...

This isn’t really a story about a date I was on, but I’m going to tell you this anyway, just because I think it’s important and probably the most adorable conversation I’ve ever accidentally eavesdropped on.

I was camping. (That’s not the story, it’s just context) On the first night I was camping with my parents and my niece, my aunt and uncle were also there. In the morning, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when I tell you what I heard, you’ll understand why I just couldn’t help but listen and smile. It was first thing in the morning and everyone was still in bed (except my mother, she gets up at the crack of dawn) and what I heard from the next bed over was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. My uncle whispered to his wife of 38 years the following:

“I am so lucky” *kiss* “I don’t deserve you.” *kiss* “I’d do anything to keep you.” *kiss* “I’ll buy you ice cream.”

This was, I think, the most amazing statement I’ve ever heard a man say to a woman. I think it should be in a movie, except that that might cheapen it, because it wouldn’t be real or sincere anymore.

I think that people rush into marriage too much. I think there isn’t enough of this genuine, true, deep love anymore. I want to remind my readers that no matter how old you are (or think you are) you should never be desperate enough to marry someone that you don’t feel this way for. Believe me, I’m 27 and not married (when I thought I’d be married at 26 and was far from that, turning 27 as a single woman was like a kick in the vagina) and even though I’m not married, I’m not settling. I have a friend who is in her early 30’s and though I know she sometimes wishes she was married, she’ll never settle either. The good ones are out there, both men and women, and we just have to be patient.

France Could Teach You a Thing or Two

Just as all of my other stories, I’m giving this one a nickname: France. He came here as an airline attendant. Why airline attendants and pilots stay in the heart of downtown when there are hotels close to the airport, I’m not sure, but I am glad. My friends and I have met other airline staff from different countries there before; “there” is a bar in my neighbourhood in the heart of downtown.

The evening started off as many evenings do when the girls decide to go out to this place. We knew we’d want to go early because they get busy, so we planned to meet early and eat there. We don’t dress up for this place, per say, as it is by no means meant to be a fancy bar, just a bar to go and eat and drink and dance to live music. If anyone living in Toronto is reading this, I’m giving away a lot I suppose about where “there” is, but it’s a great spot, so endorsing it wouldn’t be a bad thing.

Anyway, we got there, got prime seating, right near the dance floor; drinks and food, as I mentioned. For whatever reason, no matter where my friends and I go, we attract the weirdos. Strange men leer at our table, and guys who are just awkward tend to spot us and hang around, hoping for an in. So when four guys moved close to our table, put a drink on our table and a coat on the fourth chair, we immediately got our backs up. We didn’t say anything to the first or the second guy who put their things in our space, they didn’t leave opportunity. Apparently it was the third guy who was elected to break the silence between our intimate group and theirs. He spun around to place his drink on our table following the pattern his friends had set up and looked up, brightly flashed a smile and burst into our conversation like we had been expecting him all evening. They did eventually ask if they could leave their coats on the chair, and introduced themselves. We introduced ourselves as Mia, Caroline and Julie. We rarely give our real names out at bars. Eventually I ended up telling one of the guys my real name: go figure. Mia told them that the service charge for setting their coats on our chair was to buy us a round of drinks. They agreed, knowing this was their chance to chat us up, and bought us a round of drinks from our server. They advertised that they work for Air France, and used their charms to divide and plunder. Divide and plunder is a little more literal in this case than that phrase would normally be in my life, but I like the phrase, so I’ll use it. The man, France, who ended up charming me for the majority of the night and dancing with me and buying me another drink or two, was tall, dark and obviously French. The somewhat broken English and the fact that this was his first time in Toronto made him somewhat more attractive, plus the fact that he would be leaving the next day, to return when?- Who knows. I talked to his friends a bit, who did tell me he is single (which is something I can’t be sure of at all because none of the three girls speak French and the guys often turned to each other and spoke in quick, whispered French which made them unintelligible to us in the noisy bar).

His very married pilot friend was being a bit of a loner, all until after my friends had left. Yes, Caroline has been telling me for years now to loosen up, take chances and get to know people. Caroline took my keys and I promised to be safe. She would leave the door unlocked and I would tell her where I was at all times. I had my deal-breakers, firmly in mind, and I was watching for any warning signs telling me this was not a good idea.

As a side story, the pilot was an ass and tried to hit on me while France was in the washroom, and when he got back, the pilot tried to tell him all about it. I was mortified, so when I got back from my escape trip to the washroom, France and I left the bar, quickly. We didn’t talk about it, but I’m sure if we do strike up a friendship, we’d talk about that incident some day.

We walked to the grocery store and got some juice and then went back to his hotel. We turned the T.V. to a music channel. I won’t share all of the nitty gritty details or divulge how far we did or did not go, even though I’ve sworn to kiss and tell for this blog, I don’t feel it’s necessary. I can say that, though my sexual experiences are somewhat limited compared to others my age, of all the men I have kissed, made out with, fore-played with and beyond, France is the only one who caressed my skin; who touched my body in a way that made me feel beautiful and sexy and desirable without being a piece of meat, and didn’t bullshit any part of what the night was. He called me by my full name. He whispered to me. This man, who met me four hours prior, was showing me that he was genuinely glad to be in my presence and have the privilege of touching my body. He treated me like a lady from the moment he met me, and I know what this sounds like, like I’m taking it as more than it was, like I think he cares about me more than anyone could from a one night encounter. I’m really not. That’s the thing. And it’s not that I don’t care about him; it’s that he was only a part of my life for a few hours- I can’t really care about him yet. He held me all night and it really felt good, to just be held. I feel like I’ve been missing testosterone; the male touch.

I used to tell myself “I’m not that kind of girl” and you’ll probably think it’s this event that changed that. Truthfully, I’ve been making out with random guys, friends, and acquaintances for years now, in bars, in cars and in my house or theirs. I told myself I’m not “that kind of girl” because to me, “those girls” are slutty and loose. It wasn’t until recently that exploring my sexuality (in that I am a sexual being) became something that wasn’t taboo or wrong. By the encouragement of my friends and through my involvement in a progressive women’s movement, I’ve started to not be ashamed of sex and sexuality, and undo the mentality that my mother instilled in me at the tender age of 15. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to start sleeping with every Joe, John and Larry that I meet, I still see some sanctity in sex.

Anyway, in the morning, I expected to wake up with an overwhelming feeling of guilt, but just as the night before held no guilt in my decision from the bar to the bed, I didn’t have a shred of guilt that morning. I got up, much earlier than I had to, but wrapped in his arms under three sheets and a duvet I was just about dying of heat anyway, so I got up and left his hotel. Before I left, he asked me for my phone number and my email address. He then wrote down his number and email for me. He seems to genuinely want to keep in touch, so maybe this singular event won’t end up being just that, but even if I never spoke to him again, I’d be okay with that. The less than 12 hour affair was somewhat unimaginable, impossible, improbable and untouchable.

He called me later in the day to say he was leaving and that he’ll email me when he’s back in France. We’ll see. For now, I’m just thinking that night as serendipitous, lovely and satisfying.

So for the men in who are wondering what is to be learned from the French: treat the ladies you meet with respect, kindness and sincerity. Show them that you’re glad for the chance to take them out, to buy them a drink, to get to know them, and know that anything past that is a privilege that you should appreciate as a gift from that special woman. The women you date, sleep with, move in with, marry and have children with (no matter the order), are extraordinary and exquisite.

Ladies, the lesson to be learned for you, is that you should never, NEVER settle for less than feeling like you are the best thing that has happened in your man’s life. I am by no means saying that just because he goes to the effort to make you feel that way, that you should be with him. Your man has to be upstanding and worthy of comparable praise I have given to France, but if he makes you feel the way France made me feel, I hope you will be with happy being with him.

And So We Sparred, and I Won.

So I went out dancing with my girls Caroline and Rachel a few weeks back in my hometown, and the club we went to was probably one of the only bars in that city that respectable adults over the age of 21 can go. So we're dancing the night away and laughing with each other about all of the ridiculous dancing going on (there was a man who was shaking his hips more that I was!).

The end of the night was nearing and we had just finished paying our tab (and were drinking water) when a man we had been checking out all night walked up to us. He was tall, dark, seemed to have confidence, and seeing as how he had caught our attention much earlier in the night, none of us were going to say no to conversation with him. I must pause in my story to specify that he checked each of us out, fully up-and-downed looked us over, and then came and stood next to me (did I say "confidence" earlier, I'm sure I must have meant "arrogance"). I had to laugh a little on the inside becuase it was last call at the bar, how far did he think he was really going to get with me?

Anyway, so he asks me my name, to which I replied "Julie" because I rarely give my real name out in bars, and I asked his. He proceeded to ask me what I do, and when I told him, he got a freaked out look on his face. Without giving away too much, I work for a type of company that only people who do bad things would be scared of (and not even, because my company doesn't even deal with bad people... well... mostly).

I then asked what he does. I'm going to write parts of our conversation out, and the parts that are in brackets are my thoughts. The *inserts* are meant to be my descriptions in boxing terms.. you'll see why momentarily. He told me:
"I used to be a Boxer, but now I move furniture for the Brick". *spar*
"Good for you (liar)." *spar*
"Ya, I mean it's not like what you do..."
"No, but it's a good job (even though you were never a Boxer because you have pefect ears like you've never been hit and if you were a good enough boxer to not be hit you wouldn't be moving furniture for a living, so if you're going to lie to me in the first five minutes of meeting me, you should make it something that's halfway believable)". *defend*
"Are you seeing anyone?" *swing*
"Ya, sort of." It's not a total lie. Just because the guy I want to be seeing lives hours of travel away, doesn't mean I'm available. *duck-and-weave*
"Oh." He didn't say anything for a minute. "So are you from around here?" *spar*
"Originally, yes, but I live in Toronto now."
"Oh. Really?"
"Yeah!"
"Long distance is hard." *left hook*
(pause) "I'm sorry, what?" I had to make sure I heard him right- the club was loud and I wasn't sure I heard what I thought I did. *duck*
"Long distance relationships, they're hard." *right hook*
"... yeah...?" *duck*
"You know.. " Iit was at this point that Caroline and Rachel decided we should dance for one more song before we would leave (to go swimming at my parent's house!) and I was glad for the excuse to walk away from this guy, so I let them drag me on the dancefloor. *weave*

We get out on the dance floor and the Boxer follows us. Side story: Some other guy who had been trying to dance with, well,  any of us earlier ended up beside me and I had to physically take his hands off of me and tell him "No". Note to men: read the signals. If she doesn't look like she's interested in dancing with you, back off before she has to push you away. It will ruin her night if she's not me. I brush those things off pretty easily but some girls don't.

Anyway, so I end up back beside the Boxer and he asks:
"Would you move back here?" *jab*
"Pardon me?" *duck*
"Would you move back?" *jab*
"To here? No, I don't think so. I like Toronto." *hook*
"Maybe I could move to Toronto." *straigh-shot punch*
"What?" Again, it was loud in the club. *duck*
"Maybe I'll move to Toronto." *straight-shot punch*
"Oh, um, no. You shouldn't move to Toronto unless you want to move. It's not a city everyone can live in. Not everyone likes it." *fancy footwork*
"So, can I take you for dinner sometime? I could come to Toronto." *jab*
"Um, you know, I don't think the guy I'm seeing would like that very much." *block and half-uppercut*
"He doesn't have to know. It's just dinner." *defend and cross*
(WOW!) "Ya, still, I don't think so..." *block*
"Or you could come back here and I'll take you to dinner here." *jab*
"I don't really come back here all that often." *block*
"Oh." He didn't say anything for a few seconds and then he looked at me and said: "So it's really not going to happen then?" *guard goes down*
"No, I don't think so, sorry." *upper cut to the jaw, and ding, ding, ding! the Boxer is too injured to  continue!*
And with a curt nod of his head he said "Have a good night!" and walked away. *shakes his head, shakes hands with the winner, and walks away*

I'm pretty good at hiding my true feelings, and sometimes I'm even good at hiding the looks I would have on my face if my true feelings were showing. It was really hard hiding the question mark on my face for the duration of my conversation with the Boxer, so when he left, I litereally yelled "WHAT?! ... did that just happen?!" I wasn't referring to the fact that he asked if it was going to happen and then walked away when I said it wouldn't. I was referring to the weirdness of him saying that long distance is hard and wanting to move to Toronto 45 seconds after he met me!

How is it possible that women get labelled as needy and clingy and desperate when there are men like I that  in the world! First of all buddy, as I stated earlier, don't lie. And if you're going to, make sure it's believable. "Julie" is a lie, but that's at least believable, and I never lie about anything else about myself. Fake names are for protection. You move furniture. You don't need to lie to me. You don't need to protect yourself from little sweet me, especially if you want me to move home for you!!

Second, slow it down a little. You don't need to interview me and then ask me on a date three minutes later. Well, I guess you do at quarter after two in the morning, but that is why you need to approach girls much earlier in the evening. Put in your time. What kind of girl would I have to be if I said "yes" to a date with a guy I met at two a.m. in a town I'm never in because he "used to be a boxer"?! I hope that's not the kind of girl that is actually desirable to men these days (hey, maybe desperate and easy is desirable for a while, but I'm kindof past the age where I'd be dating guys looking for that in the women they're dating.. I hope).

Third, I'm actually impressed that (after a little convincing) you got the hint, asked me straight up what you were thinking, and walked away without looking back. That takes a confident man. You took a chance, took the hit and lost out to one girl, and I have no doubt that you'll be back out in that club next week looking for another sparing partner to throw questions at, duck-and-weave, and fake her out until you can go in for the kill and pound her into a relationship with you. Good luck my boxing friend. I'm sure some girl will spar with you, lose her focus and you'll land a solid punch and knock her out, right into your waiting arms.