This Sunday Drive

Last night I took my baby sister to the city for a workshop. Driving down the DVP, I was happy with the weather but bummed about where I was getting off the highway. Going West on Eglington brings me to his place, but last night I was heading East. I glanced down Eglington and wondered what he was doing that very moment. My eyes shot towards my phone and then I looked back at the road. No use torturing myself when the sun is shining.

Further into the trip I cross the Danforth - his old work turf and of course I see the sign for the hall. Deep breath, crank the music and paste a smile on your face! Shortly after that episode the upbeat chimes of Vampire Weekend float out of my speakers and directly into my gut. I hadn't heard of them until he mentioned them and subsequently I'm hooked on their songs while I work. It's happy music and right now it's making me miserable. Fuck! Why is the universe pointing him out to me today? Why can't I just have a regular Sunday evening without being victim to painful memories?

I have to constantly remind myself that he's the idiot for letting this fall apart. When I'm feeling especially weak, I read the sticky note I wrote to myself about why this isn't my fault and how although it sucks, he doesn't deserve me right now. For the most part it helps, but there are moments when I just want to scream.

You find strength when you need it. During business hours, I message my work bestie and she tells me that under no circumstances can I contact him. When I'm on my own, I text a friend to remind me that I'm freggin' awesome and that I can't call him because he bailed on this. Before I go to sleep, I ask a higher power to heal my heart and to watch over the boy. He may have broken my heart, but I still want the best for him and since he can't see what that is right now, I pray that someone shows him.

Each day gets easier and that makes me sad. If I'm getting over him, maybe it was never all I thought it was. If I'm not crying anymore, does that mean it's totally over? This turmoil makes me question a lot in my life. I'm afraid that I was really blind and I worry about my ability to judge the strength of my romantic relationships as a result. What if I had it all wrong? What if it was NEVER what I thought it could be and he was never the person I thought he was? Am I really that naive?

Things are looking up though. I'm taking control of other areas in my life and letting romance roll in as it wishes. I may be broken, but I know how to make myself better.

This Lady

I consider myself a female, a woman, a girl, but mostly a lady. There aren't enough ladies out there anymore. Being a lady means having manners, respecting yourself, carrying yourself with pride and actually caring about the image your portray of yourself. Stumbling into the street sans undies, spilling vodka and Red Bulls on your girlfriends and waking up in a haze on Sunday mornings is not very becoming of a lady - right?

Okay, like most gals my age I've had my share of less than graceful un-ladylike moments. I have spilled some drinks, I have stumbled out of heavy club doors into crowded Toronto streets and I've peeled my eyes open on the occasional Sunday morning with a marching band in my head. I never exited a cab exposing my britney though, I've got too much class for that. Even drowning in mixed drinks, I'm still well aware of whether or not I'm flashing a bunch of strangers. Mama taught this girl better than that.

As a lady, I look for gentlemen and nothing less. Pay the cheque, pull out my chair, open the car door for me and look directly into my eyes when you speak to me. Before you start bitching about my "pay the cheque" comment, understand what I'm saying. I don't mean I never want to spend a cent of my own money on a relationship. What I mean is I see a man taking care of the dinner cheque a sign of chivalry and old-fashioned values. I like that.

I'm not looking for a hero to rescue me or anything, I just want a romantic guy who makes me laugh, holds my hand in public and disarms me with his smile.