Royal Salt In The Wound

No, I did not get up intentionally to watch it. Hell, no! I knew I was going to have to be careful with this one. Unfortunately, I was woken at 3.30am due to the 3 glasses of wine consumed the night before during a celebration with coworkers. Well-earned wine. So, there I was, hoping to get back to sleep so that I wouldn't have to subject myself to the torture, but it was not meant to happen. At 5am, I began watching the royal affair.

I was doing well at first. I got goosebumps when Prince Charming arrived at the church. It was exciting. Historic. Compelling. It was thrilling when Kate got into the car and then arrived at the church. As she linked arms with her father and started to walk down the aisle, that's when the floods of tears began. For months after the royal engagement, I joked with my friends that Wills and Kate were stealing my thunder. Now, my former partner, who we will now refer to as G No, has stolen my wedding.

I had dreamed of the wedding we would have for the 8 months that we were engaged. I planned carefully so that it would be a celebration to be enjoyed by all. Sophisticated. Beautiful. Original. I was due to walk down the aisle of a meaningful church with my father in September. Not anymore. Let's face it: Ward isn't getting any younger. Will I have that opportunity again? I thought of seeing G No at the front of the church, ready to begin the 'happily ever after' part. Nope. We would celebrate our love with friends and family afterwards. Uhhhhhh, no.

The life that I saw for myself over the past year or so is no longer. My partner took off. He is the one who said in a letter he gave me after the proposal that "you deserve your fairytale." Guess what? This isn't it!? It's spring and weddings are in the air. My wedding is in the ground and I've been left with a royal mess!

Quote Of The Day

"Every time I talk about it, I want to cry... I'm just trying to get through it as gracefully as possible, without any drama."

~ Eva Longoria, on her divorce from Tony Parker

Jilted

Dictionary.com defines the term 'jilted' as follows : "to reject or cast aside (a lover or sweetheart), especially abruptly or unfeelingly." Yep, that sounds like the right definition to me.
What a week it has been. G Spot, my former lover, gave up on our relationship earlier this week. There were too many factors that contriubuted to the end of the relationship to mention here. Unfortunately, most of them were blown out of proportion by fear and anxiety. It is especially unpleasant, given that there was no lack of love, caring and passion in the relationship. It is hard to make sense of it ending when all of those aspects were present. However, this is the card that I have been dealt, and I must carry on.
I never expected that G Spot would hurt me like this. He seemed so caring. I had felt that this was the true love experience that I had been looking for all my life. It wasn't.
I was so upset and felt so alone that first day. My friends and family have rallied around me and shown me that I am not alone. Now I know I do not need to worry about losing love, as I have found more in the past few days than I ever dreamed possible. I want to thank everyone who has come over to sit with me, bring me wine at night, bring me coffee in the morning, bring my favourite flowers and bring me back up. I am so grateful to you all. Now, my tears are those of gratitude.
Did I ever expect this to happen? No. Do I feel that I will get through this and go on to one day find my true love? I do.

Living In Sin

That's right. G Spot and I, two sinners, are living together before marriage. In a church. God would be so unimpressed. Heh!
The big move happened last week. We have now been living harmoniously in our church conversion condo and it's been a lot different than I ever expected. I have droned on about my fear of living with a man for many, many years. The longer I put it off, the scarier it got. Finally, it became a big, scary monster hiding under the bed. I worried about everything: Would our sex life be ruined? Would we start annoying each other? Would his lack of ability to change the loo roll drive me insane? Would we start fighting over when a lightbulb would be changed? Would we start to hate each other?
I guess I figured that would happen sooner rather than later. However, we took the time to trouble-shoot the scenario. We entered into this arrangement with both our needs as top priorities. We are both private people and we appreciate space. We both have activities that we enjoy doing apart from the relationship that we do not want to give up. We both enjoy our sex life and do not want to f*ck that up. So, what did we do? We decided before moving in to repect each other's space. We respect each other's schedules. His quirks and habits are not annoying me yet, and he claims the same of mine. We had a few bulbs that needed to be changed, and it got done. And, most importantly of all, we are still having sex. Thank God!

If It's Not One Thing, It's My Mother: Yeesh

Free as a snowbird, I have travelled all the way to Sunny Southern State to enjoy a relaxing vacation. With my parents.. On a golf course... Okay, so it's not exactly South Beach, but Shady Pines has it's pluses.
I had only been here a day when I noticed that my parents, Ward and June Cleaver-Blogshaw, had given each other Valentines Day cards. So sweet. Or so I thought. I innocently took the time to read the cards, which were displayed on the kitchen counter (no, I wasn't rummaging through their dresser drawers... that was the next day).
I looked at the pink and red card first. It was from Ward to June. The sentiment read: "They say Valentines Day is all about the love. Which is good, because somebody ate all the candy. Oh well, have a great day." Awwwwww, cute.
The pink card with sparkly purple designs was from June to Ward. The sentiment read: "Oh, you've set my heart to racing. Feel it? That's not my heart." The inside caption said: "Happy Valentines from someone you can always misbehave with."
The picture was of an old man with a pop-up arm that jerked himself off whenever you open and close the card. Ewwwwww. I didn't realize it was going to be this hot at Shady Pines! Yech.

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not...

... He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me.

I am a romantic. The dictionary describes me as: being preoccupied with love or by the idealizing of love or one's beloved. Yep, that's me. The dictionary also describes me as: fanciful, impractical and unrealistic. Fair enough.

When I was a girl, which seems not so long ago, I never dreamed of my wedding. I never dreamed of the dress, the venue, the flowers or the ring. I used to dream of the relationship. I longed to meet and marry the man of my dreams. To find and hold onto true love. Seemed simple at the tme. Turned out to be the longest, hardest search of my life.

Finally, 2 years ago, I found my true love. A man different from any I had known before him and it changed everything. The love that grew, and continues to grow, makes me feel beautiful, desirable, important and supported all the time. Truly loved. Has it been as easy as I had thought a relationship between two lovers would be? No. Has it been a story book romance or a love story that looks like it does in the movies? No. Has it been the most rewarding experience of my life and worth the work? Absolutely.

This post is dedicated to my lover, G Spot. I nicknamed him G Spot for the purpose of this blog because, unlike other women perhaps, my G Spot is in my heart. And that's right where he got me. From the start. Being faced with the unlikely prospect of our relationship not working out (see previous post about related problems called 'Relationsh*ts'), was unfathomable. I would not operate at the same level if he were not around. Perhaps he wouldn't, either.

To all the fanciful, impractical and unrealistic sexy singletons out there, keep at it. As Bridget Jones, Carrie Bradshaw, Cleopatra, Scarlett O'Hara, Jerry Maguire, Adam & Eve and Elizabeth Taylor (?!) would say, Happy Valentines Day!

Sure Shot

Usually, I would start off saying 'this sort of thing can only happen in America.' This time, I'm saying 'this sort of thing happened in Canada.' What's the deal? Here goes...
According to the Saskatoon StarPhoenix, a man, Glenn Kroeger, was 'deeply depressed and drinking heavily when he fired a rifle at his wife Sylvia inside their rural Saskatchewan home on the morning of January 3rd, 2011. The .22-calibre bullet struck their bedroom door so close to her head that she felt fragments strike her face.'
The first problem? Well, they live in Saskatchewan. Rural Saskatchewan.
The second problem? A husband trying to shoot his wife. In the face.
The real problem? Sylvia, the poor fool who obviously suffers from low self esteem, told the court that the "frightening event did not spell the end of their 21-year marriage." Scary! She went on to say "this incident is completely out of character for Glenn," telling the court she believes her husband was suicidal at the time. Too bad he didn't turn the gun on himself. Jeez.
Apparently, "He is not proud of what happened, obviously." Awwww, bless...
Ladies, this is f*cked. This kind of behaviour is never to be tolerated, no matter how mentally deficient your partner is. I mean, really... A couple who own a glue gun? Handy. A couple who own a caulking gun? Really handy. A couple who own a stun gun? Good for an emergency or intrusion. A couple who own a hand gun? A couple of lunatics!