He told me he loved me, I puked my guts up

Amelia says -

My ex and I keep in touch - ish. About every 3 months or so I'll give him a call or he'll call me just to check in and see how the other is doing. We say we're going to meet up for coffee or something and then I consider my job done and forget about it until 3 months or so later when I figure it's time to give him another call.

But this time he called me on it. He asked me if I was ever really going to get together with him. I felt like a dick. So I said yes! Of course! Let's go to dinner next week. How about Monday?

So we went for dinner. At my favorite restaurant. A little Vietnamese place complete with bubble tea and all. Which I drank with my chow mein. And then I started to feel sick. I thought I'd just eaten too much so agreed to go for a walk with him. We started walking toward my house and I started to feel progressively sicker. So I said "walk faster. Just get me home without puking on myself ok?".

I made it so close. So close. I made it as far as the building next door to my house before I was bent over, one hand on the wall holding me up, puking pink noodles all over the place. He stood behind me rubbing my back and discretely stepping backward so I wouldn't vomit on his shoes. I managed to hold it down for a sec which I used to say "nice to see you bye!" and ran into my house.

That evening he called me. How nice. To see if I felt ok. To tell me that it was nice to see me. To tell me that seeing me brought up old memories. To tell me that he loves me. I'd successfully avoided a guy for 3 years and finally gave in and saw him and that's what I get?! Wasn't my behaviour poor enough to guarantee my safety from awkward situations like this? So I nicely told him that I didn't want to lie to him, because I thought that would only hurt him, and I just didn't feel it.

Now, when we are rejected, we have two options. One is to take it gracefully, or as gracefully as possible, and move on. The other, is to dig your heels in and fight. He fought. He asked me repeatedly why we couldn't be together. I explained repeatedly that I just didn't feel any chemistry any more. In my head I wished as loudly as I could for my roomate to come home, for someone else to call, for the apartment to catch on fire. Anything to get me off the phone. The pain finally ended when he, bawling now, told me that he couldn't see me anymore because it hurt too much, and my phone told me, beeping now, that it was going to cut off any second, and my conscience told me, you must have heard it screaming, that I was one hell of a bitch.

I just stared in awe and horror

at the woman in line in front of me at the grocery store. Easily 50, she stood there, all 4 foot 11 of her, in her striped leg warmers. Presumably she wore them to keep warm the legs she shamelessly exposed in a school-girl style mini. She topped off the ensemble with a matching hat. The hat matched the plaid pleated skirt, not the leg warmers bunched around her ankles - their lack of function indicating that she really just chose them solely for their stylish value.

So I stood there. And stared. I couldn't decide if I admired this woman who obviously still relished in her sexuality and wore it without shame. I couldn't help but wonder if she were married. Or had a lover. Perhaps a young lover - who inspired her to wear such age-inappropriate attire.

I couldn't decide if I was terrified of one day standing in her legwarmers being silently judged by the young woman behind me in line at the grocery store.

xo Amelia

My Boyfriend Bought me a Vibrator...

Ava says...

I’m not the most experienced when it comes to bedroom activity but the past year has definitely given me a crash course and opened my eyes to everything an active and spontaneous sex life has to offer. I don’t think I’ll ever revert back to shy and inhibited, although it still takes me a while to totally break out of my shell.

We’ve been discussing the idea of bringing “toys” into the bedroom for a while so I wasn’t really surprised when I was given the “Fukuoku”, a vibrating finger puppet with rotating heads, for my birthday.

My birthday was a happy one to say the least.

There were some ground rules when the idea of using toys first came up. I didn’t want anything freakishly large (as I wanted to remain in tact rather than torn in two), and requested a vibrator because I figured anything made with my “love button” in mind was worth trying out (my man needs no help with hitting the right spots internally).

I must say the addition of my “adults-only” finger puppet has certainly added more sparks between the sheets and spice in the bedroom (if that is even possible, my boyfriend is Latin after all).

For those of you out there who are a little wary of sex toys, take it from someone who was once in your shoes; trade in the loafers for a hot pair of stilettos, you just might surprise yourself.

Invisible Force Field.

Sunday afternoon. I'm listening to Andrea Bocelli-Romanza, sitting in my new "home" watching cyclists and runners go by from my living room window...Will and Grace is on pause. Just one of those amazing (AMAZING!) days for rest and relaxation.

I went out yesterday night-to a place called O'Byrne after doing some window shopping on Whyte Ave. I was wearing a black tank and capris and it left marvelous to walk outside without the threat of rain/snow/a jacket...

So as i was walking I noticed that the patios were packed with people sipping on iced lattes, etc., laughing, smiling. My friend and I decided to stop for ice cream which I engulfed in a matter of seconds (caramal fudge + chocolate lovers chocolate). We then met up with another friend to have Blue Disco Lemonade at a place called Dadio's (vodka and lemonade). After three glasses-I us girls started doing what we do best...bitch (in all actuality, it was I who was doing most of the ranting). One of us had recently been rejected by one of our very close friends. Of course, this particular gal was all class and showed no sign of hurt feelings. We all applauded her grace...but then, (maybe it was the lemonade), but I started to get pissed. "Honestly, why the f*ck would he ever (EVER!) reject you?!?! You're gorgeous. You're in law school. You have a personality that every girl envies...I don't get it."

This brought back memories of Guy at which point I dished on the fact that I had printed out the email that he had sent me and highlighted portions I had disagreed with and arguments rebutting the statements he made. In all honesty, I guess it does sound slightly pathetic in hindsight. But it got me thinking-why us?

Sitting across from me at Dadio's were two beautiful, intelligent women-full of personality and enthusiasm. We started thinking about out common attributes (bubbly, happy, in law, etc.). Was it that men were intimidated by us? Was it that we were just too excitable? Was it that we weren't pretty enough? Is it that you sort of need to be a bit of a bitch (ie. cold) to show that you are confident?

We started analyzing the guys that we went for. Was it that they were too good for us? Was it that they were just really really different from the average male? Was it that they thought that they were too good for us? Was it that they thought that something better would come along???

I walked home, pondering these questions. What can I do to change myself? Is it something in my personality that is a bit too much??

I went to O'Byrne and stood at a table surrounded by guys from my class. Average looking guys (some would even say below average)...all with girlfriends. I looked around the bar at ugly as ass guys making out with gorgeous girls. Suddenly, I started to get that feeling. Mother f*ckers! What the hell is wrong with this picture???? I just don't understand!!!!! Here I am, looking as good as I'll ever look (I mean, I should be in my prime right?), but nothing. NOTHING. Not even a gaze in my direction (I swear).

Finally, in sheer frustration I coaxed the girls onto the dance floor to bust a move to 90s classics like ("Miami", and Lauren Hill)...not a glance....So, here's my theory.

You can knock yourself out trying to find someone...anyone (and let's be honest, by the time you're 24 and single you get a touch desperate), but it won't work. Why? We each have an invisible force field around us. It's not one thing like bad breath, or a bad personality, or being 'not so great looking' it's this shield that surrounds us that guys just pass over because they can't get through. In other words, it's not us...it's just how the world works. It's your religious you could even trump this us to God attempting to protect us from ass holes out there.

This theory will keep me going for the summer. I really hope.