Noun: someone who obtains pleasure from receiving punishment.
If there is one lesson to learn as I've grown up a
few inches, is this: if your closest surrounding people do not like the
person you are dating, there are probably sufficient grounds for disapproval.
If I could go back and tell my (younger) self one thing, it would be that. I'll tell myself now as well.
Someone who is blind makes up for their deficiency with
the other senses. A person in love is blinded, yet, rather than have a
heightened intelligence elsewhere, they actually lose something; usually their
common sense. The ones who support you, the family and friends, are your lost
sense. They see things you make excuses for.
The amount of smart females I see (me included)
chasing guys who will never love them like they want is absurd. When did we
become so dumb? Didn't our mother's raise us better? I know mine did. Let's not
forget the number of men who have succumbed to an overly protective
girlfriend/wife who no longer "allows" him to hang out with his friend
of forever; whip it real good. You know you have a problem when it is so evident just
through the words on your blog that your friend who lives in Paris tells you he
sounds like a waste of time and you can do better. Yet you're still dreaming of
the one you can never have...
Noun: a person, especially a child, who cries readily for
very little reason. A person who complains too much.
When did men become so sensitive? You write a few words
about someone and they take it so personal. Is it really that offending? The
intention is not to hurt somebody's feelings; there really is no purpose other
than I'm single and I like to write. My main concern is what a small, small world Montreal is.
I would bet money (and I hardly know how to gamble) that it is near impossible
to meet someone in this city who isn't somehow connected to you. They will
always be someone's brother's ex-girlfriend's cousin in law; or something. Having spent the past weekend in Toronto truly made me
realize what a condense place it is we live in here (MTL). Toronto seems to be
full of oh so yummy guys whoknow how to
play with eye contact and keep a girl on edge; they also seem to pick the
perfectly appropriate moment to pounce. I'm so bored of Montreal and slowly losing
hope. I can't help but wonder if I'm
risking staying single forever by staying in this city.
Especially if the men continue to get insulted by my blog... Merde.
Adjective: (of a person or action) showing a lack of
experience, wisdom, or judgement.
Dear men of the world,
Do you legitimately believe you get a free pass because
"it's Vegas"? I understand that it (Vegas) doesn't feel like real
life, but it is. I could possibly try to understand had the encounter been a onetime
thing, no phone numbers exchanged. But when you program my digits into your
phone and text me your name so I have yours, you definitely just crossed the
"it's Vegas" excuse line. Especially when you continue to text me
throughout the next three days (in Vegas). Don't get me wrong, I'm not
complaining per say, just doing my best to comprehend the male mind; a problem
solving skill I will never succeed at.
I decided to put the man to the test. I was always taught
not to make assumptions; therefore it would be unjust to presume that he definitely
had a girlfriend. I also needed to determine if it would be necessary to schedule a
bikini wax before my Toronto weekend getaway. So one week later I brought what
happened in Vegas to real life and put his phone number to the test in Canadian
time. Clearly a happily in love boyfriend would not respond, right? Well, I
received a reply. I even was given clear directions including time and day of
when I should "holler" if I wanted to (no, I am not lying). The convo
was short and sweet, he was working (bartender; how many signs are going to
point to no?).
Since I love a good chase and was still not one hundred
percent convinced he was off limits, I took advantage of this past Friday's girl's
night (and three bottles of wine). I bluntly asked him if he was a married man;
explaining that his eyelashes had been haunting my dreams and that if I was
dreaming of a married man I would need to go to confession. He clearly stated
he was not married and that I didn't need to confess. After telling him to
prove it and that I would be in Toronto the following weekend he replied
something resembling' I never said I was single...' but to come by his bar
anyways. I said I knew it. He said it wasn't what I thought. I said that's what
they all say.
Verb: accept or yield to a superior force or to the
authority or will of another person.
Being a female in a Las Vegas nightclub can be best
compared to a single mouse in a forest full of wild boar. Upon entering you are
no longer regarded as human, but rather look at as prey. You will be surrounded
and encircled by males within seconds; there will be no escape.
Our second night in Vegas was at Light Nightclub. We were
overwhelmed before we had a chance to get inside, so once we did make our way
to the bar we were in desperate need of strong drinks. Yes we purchased our own
beverages. I have a sneaking suspicion that my age has matured me into a woman
who would rather spend her own money than uninterestingly chat with a guy for
free drinks. Although this did not distract the men from swarming. The first guy was solo. Though he claimed his friends
were around somewhere. He invited us to his cabana at the Mandalay pool on
Sunday; sure. He bragged about his friend placing a thirty thousand dollar bet
on red? Does that gambling reference make sense? I can't remember, I clearly
was not impressed. The second duo was from Brazil. Initially this caught my
attention as I imagined myself with a husband who allowed me to visit Brazil
whenever I needed to escape the cold Canadian winters. However they weren't
overly interesting and one was a little
too pushy causing my friend to call an emergency getaway. Third time is always a charm. Two of my friends chatted
up some boys as a ploy to get rid of the Brazilian men. I continued to dance
with my third friend not paying much attention. Until someone pulled my pony
tail; an immediate turn on. It just so happened to be one of the guys part of the
charming third trio (I swear it happened like one, two, three) from Toronto (of
course we would meet Toronto boys in Vegas).After being introduced to the Drake look-a-like who pulled my pony tail,
I was immediately hooked. Lust at first sight into eyes so blue I now
understand the saying 'you can get lost in them', eyelashes so long I disregarded all/any
common sense, lips so beautiful I kissed a stranger. When I witnessed a tattoo
sleeve peaking out of his shirt, the lust may have turned into drunken love.
Coincidently I have a weekend trip planned to Toronto on
May sixteenth. However, upon my return home I managed to succeed at my FBI
stalking skills and I am quite certain that my Vegas affair actually has a
have never been to Vegas you will probably not understand how I returned from
the city of sin almost one week ago, yet I am still recuperating. There really
is no possible way to explain a Vegas vacation in its entirety and although I
was (probably) not as wild as I anticipated, it was an absolute amazing
experience. There was not an ounce of disappointment in any detail of the trip,
from the hotel (The Mandalay Bay Hotel & Casino), to the restaurants (my
favourite being The Barrymore) and the long (hung-over) trek through the desert
for my lasting tattoo souvenir (at Downtown Tattoo); except perhaps the lack of
sleep and stamina. The motto for our five days: POWER THROUGH IT.
Vegas is defined as the Disneyland for adults, it is no lie. I imagine the look
on my face the first time seeing the strip rather resembled that of a child's
initial glimpse of the Magic Castle. Every part of your body is being over stimulated
as there is so much action in every direction it is sometimes overwhelming.
Just the mere recollection has me excited and stumbling over my words.
expected to go to Vegas and party 24/7. In retrospect that was an absurd
thought for four days and five nights. We managed to get out to two nightclubs
(Light and Hakkasan) and one day party (Daylight Beach Club, a Sunday perfected
by DJ Franzen with R&B and Hip Hop only, no fist pumping allowed). In
addition, we got to visit the Grand Canyon before any real debauchery was able
to happen; we even got upgraded to second row status at the Beatles Love Cirque
de Soleil show. Thus concluding that the vacation wasn't all play and we made
our mother's proud by experiencing things other than hangovers and more
imagine the saying, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, originated not only
because of the worst behaviour one may indulge in while visiting, but because
half of the time we cannot remember what happened in Vegas. The days felt as
though we lived a full twenty-four hours; did we sleep? The hours are a blur
and the injuries on my feet are evidence that they were lived to the fullest.
The one thing I can't ever forget is the one who I proposed to while walking
through our hotel casino at three AM to our room; drunk off double vodka soda's
and way too many butterflies in my stomach...