Well the week started off with a BANG – literally! BANG is the noise I made when I fell face first onto the packed bus Monday morning. Seriously if this was an omen to how the week was going to proceed I was in for a ride. After having the lovely older bus driver help me up, I proceeded to scurry to the back of the bus, out of shear embarrassment, and I then quickly looked up my horoscope for the week to see if it was an omen. And true to form my horoscope was completely useless.
It began by speaking of international moves with partners. NOT APPLICABLE! Single as always! Yes I know it is a cliché to talk about being single and the hardship we face, but whatever, it is my blog and it irritates me. It seems that single people at my age are always forced to justify their situation when showing up solo: be it weddings, work galas, even birthday parties. Where is your plus one? Is that supposed to be a rhetorical question? Because lets be honest my significant other at the moment is my mother - she is the one I am sharing a bed with and frankly that is too sad of an answer. A friend of mine, Miss Lady, who has the same social stigma as I were discussing how in our twenties it was socially acceptable to bring a friend to the aforementioned events - that way you had someone to deflect annoying questions and make fun of what people were wearing (really is that not the reason we go to these events? Open Bar & Fashion Disasters?!) But now that we are in our thirties it is no longer acceptable to bring your girl friends (and lets be honest most of them would rather sit on their asses in their Lulus than be forced to be another single girl at a wedding) and now you roll solo.
Though you maybe happy and truly confident in your singledom no matter what way you spin it, there is a social sigma!! My particular situation may be made worse by the demographic at my office. I work with men. You can count the women in an office of 100 on one hand. In our twenties most were single and both genders mingled in peace and harmony, however we got older and many married and it is like we are back in elementary school: boys on one side and girls on the other! And there I am left standing in the middle of the dance floor - ALONE. I work with the men, I know the men, yet social structure dictates I stand with the women on the other wall. Unfortunately the men fall right in line with this thinking because they do not want to deal with their wives on the drive home giving them the third degree about “that girl” they were talking to at the bar. Many of you are probably thinking I am over reacting but it is unfortunately true. Women say men are possessive, I really think that possessiveness and jealousy is a shoe that fits both genders. I do realize that there are very cool married women who in no way exhibit these qualities towards single women; Mrs. Lucy is a prime example. Yet the majority falls into the following category: I once invited a colleague to an exclusive event that would have benefited him professionally. When the girlfriend found out his “colleague” was a woman – with never meeting me - she told him he was not allowed to go. Of course this was at the last minute and I was once again rolling solo (my mother was otherwise detained). How are women to move forward in the world of business if married women act in this manner? They might as well be this guy!
The other unfortunate part of being single in your thirties is even if you walk over to the wives side and they accept you with open arms, which to be fair they always do, you have nothing in common. Many of them are pregnant with their second and their favourite topics are weddings; either their own or some new fiancée that has joined the wives crew. Why is it that weddings are the bonding topic among women? Out of not wanting to seem like a bitch you are forced to ask the newly engaged woman about her dress, bridesmaids, flowers – I really don’t give a flying fuck. Why can we not talk about shoes? Oh ya because you spent all your money on the wedding and babies and are now forced to shop at Pay Less! Painful subject they try and avoid – just like the question they all end up asking me at some point in the evening? Why are you single? Don’t I want a family? I bite down hard not to respond “Oh because I decided not to settle like you!” What is worse these questions always have a sympathetic or even condescending tone to them. When you jokingly deflect the question with an sappy answer such as “when I meet a man I can stand more than 20min” in order to avoid the impending pity party they have planned for you, you are forced to listen to advice that is delivered like condolences – “you’ll get there someday” – BAH!!! You know 1 in 3 marriages ends in divorce (and it is rumored they cost much more than the wedding).
As I am going on about this, I fully understand I am in the middle of a rant and beginning to feel bad but then I am given the material evidence to my theory. While sitting here writing at Starbucks a friend of my father’s walks in. He is a very nice man and we chat for a while. After a courteous 5 min of “what is new?” small talk (stupidly I always assume that they are asking about my job when they ask that) it came to the topic of my love life. What he really meant by “what is new?” Nothing, still single! It turned into this 20min conversation about how being single is FINE and how I would meet the right one eventually and there was no rush, blah blah blah! Does anyone ever feel they need to pep talk a married women about being married – no it is Oh WOW you are married, Congratulations! I think one of my favourite thoughts from my recently married friend, the Lieutenant; when she graduated law school not a single member of her extended family flew to her graduation or sent gifts – a 3 year hard core undertaking and nothing. But when she got engaged – hell or high water they made the wedding. She looked at me with this revelation one day and said “does this make sense?”
After this man thankfully gave me the cause for my above rant I noticed that he never once brought up my Dad and it makes me wonder, does he know I no longer have a relationship with my father? I wonder if he even speaks to my Dad anymore? Not like my father would ever mention we do not speak, it would destroy the illusion he has created with his friends about him being this great family man – ha! I even found myself lying to this man about why I was in this neighborhood saying I was meeting a friend (which he snuck in – is this friend a boy? What are people trying to make you feel like you have a hairy mole on your lip?). I lied about not living in the neighborhood in case he reported back to my father. I even had to hold my tongue when this man graciously complimented the way I looked and that I had lost some weigh (which was very kind of him) – the response of “Ya that tends to happen when you start shedding thirty years of emotional baggage!” was so close to rolling out of my mouth.
In the end, if people insist on making singles feel bad about ourselves and basically implying that we have a disability and force us to justify our situation I want our own parking space at Super Store between the expectant mothers and the actual handi-capped.
Love Klassy Kass
Sunday, 26 June 2011
Monday, 20 June 2011
The Walks of SHAME
The walk of shame! Oh, how our friendship has bloomed over the years. I will admit I have clocked a marathon or two of miles doing the walk of shame. But come on, kids - I am 31year old who can counted her 3 to 4 month patchy relationships on one hand, however I can firmly say that counting my walks of shame on one hand is no longer a possibility. Many may find this sad, yet I am very comfortable with my singledom.
There is something very freeing in the activities that are the precursors to the walk of shame. In my extensive experience, I find that when you go home with someone who you know you’ll have no future with (because let’s be honest – do you really want a relationship with a guy you slept with on the first night?), he is there for one purpose and one purpose only, there is no need for niceties like remembering their name and tender foreplay. Just get ‘er going so you can get what you need and get to sleeping off the hangover. There are some who believe they have to be emotionally involved to have good sex but I definitely do not prescribe to that school of thought – good sex is mechanical and mentally satisfying sex is emotional. On most occasions, I have found the walks of shame satisfy the mechanical just fine. Unless you get a jack rabbit! There is no helping a jack rabbit, even when you are screaming direction like a drill sergeant. They have one move with one speed and you might as well starfish and hope he ends quickly or, as the efficient women we are, start sleeping off the hangover because a) he won’t notice and b) do you really care if he does?
Contrary to popular belief (again, through my aforementioned extensive research, I have found that statistically jackrabbits are few and far between), normally the gentlemen are good times, making the inconveniences of the walk of shame palatable. You know the inconveniences I am talking about: brushing your teeth with your finger, the question of what to do with your underwear (Wear it? Put it in your pocket? What if this is the day you get hit by a bus – and the paramedic is super hot and you do want a relationship, last night’s g-string in your back pocket is not giving off the best first impression…), the lack of deodorant because you cannot steal some of his because seriously that is not just a bit unhygienic (ironic, because what you were doing the night before was sanitary?!) and boys’ deodorant smells like boy – a dead give away to the cute paramedic even if he did not check your back pocket and just assumed you enjoy going commando. And my favorite – the glossy sheen your hair takes after a night of carnal sex and sweaty, drunken half-assed sleep.
But again, the pros outweigh the cons as a single 31 year old who has been told she is in her sexual prime. (Which, incidentally, is depressing. This is it? Really, I am just getting started and it is supposed to go downhill from here on out?) Unless all you get are the cons – like I was subjected to this week. Twice!!!
The first such unnecessary miles were clocked Thursday morning after the Wednesday night riots in Vancouver Vancouver
The second walk of shame was actually more painful than the first, as a result of the amount of alcohol I chose to consume the evening before. The day started out innocently enough. We attended a soccer game, then some après drink fun followed by more après après drinks. It was when my lovely married friend Lucy (whose husband was out of town) and Mr. Sweet Potato from Wednesday night decided to take the party back to Lucy’s and continue drinking after the bars closed that I realized another pro-lacking walk of shame was imminent. This lasted until . I am actually floored that I lasted that long because, like the faux princess I am, I turn into a pumpkin at . Now, as a result of my current financial situation with the firm (and despite the many double Grey Goose and sodas I had consumed), I opted to save money and not grab a $50 cab ride home at 5am. No, I chose to wait to take the bus in the morning for $2.50. Responsibility is painful and anyone who tells you differently is a liar.
Lucy, bless her heart, put me up, and although her generosity is unparallel and she is quite hot and hilarious, I was still not inclined to spoon. Yes, she was letting me share her marital bed while hubby was away, but, as previously reported, I have deep-seated daddy issues and I do not like to be touched! (Come to think of it, my fear of intimacy may be the reason I have no problem with the walk of shame – I should bring this up with Dr. Phil when he has me on the new OWN network for his feature on “Insecure Girls with Daddy Issues - the Reason Why Charlie Sheen is Still Getting Laid”…) The last time I slept over, she attempted to cop a feel and I kicked her. She has yet to let me live it down, claiming she forgot I was there rather than her husband, being sure to point out the bruise even weeks later. To top off the touching, Lucy snores – all cons to the impending cons to come at when I ventured home on the bus.
I do realize that I did leave out a major inconvenience of the walk of shame, which is the SHAME; however, I feel it is implied (what with the word being in the name). And shame is definitely what I felt on the bus that morning when the bus driver smirked at me with that “I know what you did last night!” look. BUT I DIDN’T! And that was the Shame!
Needless to say, I went home to sleep and spent the rest of the day eating greasy food hoping that Monday brought new promise – hence this post being a day late. Please forgive me?! The lateness was for all readers’ benefit. Because if I wrote this yesterday, it would have gone something like this … shower? Too far … what is that smell … crap that is me … am I sober enough to drive to McDonalds?
Love Klassy Kass
Sunday, 12 June 2011
Here we GO!
This was the year - or so my horoscope said. I was to be debt free, career was to take off and I was going to fall in love! Well it is June, half way through this 'life changing year' and so far due to work related circumstances out of my control I am $8000 in debt with the company, a spineless victim of a girl is suing me, I've been kicked out of my house, am no longer speaking to my father and currently at the OLD age of 31 I share not only a room, but also a bed with my mother. I was told "lucky moneybags Jupiter was going to be sitting directly across from my sign", and if he is, he is totally ignoring me, which is just plain RUDE! To top it off the dry cleaners lost my pants last week and my tires actually blew up while I was driving across the bridge. Welcome to the Kronikles of Klassy Kass!
Where to start – maybe my living situation which despite everything is quite a positive situation, however still embarrassing to admit. When I explain where I live I get this look, the “I thought you were a successful business woman” – well, success is in the eye of the beholder, and I am not widely successful, but definitely middle of the pack. But I am a business owner meaning between my business and my travel/shoe habits my wallet is basically anemic.
But I am off topic – My living quarters: imagine the Golden Girls but 30 years earlier. The owner of the house Betty White’s character, Rose (ya, I know Blanche was the owner – stop picking on the details) is uncannily similar. She is a recent divorcee who is hopelessly optimistic, no mountain is too high to climb with a broken ankle carrying the donkey on her back because she feels everyone and everything should enjoy the challenge type of optimism and straight out gullible – cannot help but mess with her sometimes.
Then there is my cousin who is our Blanche. She’s our own little Southern Bell – tis what happens when you grow up the richest/ prettiest girl from a prairie town of 800 (can tell you this place is quite the little metropolis). Let’s just put it this way, she might have been “let go” from her summer position at the golf course in her early twenties for a Blanche like indiscretion with the much older owner of the club house – quite the little scandal.
Then there is me and my mother – aka Dorthy and Sophia. I share a room with the woman, need I say more about our character similarities?! Although my mother is not cynical or bitter (yes a DNA test has proven she really is my mother and the hospital did not screw up – where my what some call “sarcastic personality” comes from I don’t know). But that is it, a house comprised of two divorcees and two who have been strongly urged by doctors to be on meds. Never a dull moment.
This week was an exciting week! I had a date. This is a good thing and a bad thing. It is a good thing because it gives me hope that I will not die alone once all the other golden girls leave me (including my mother who I am sure is plotting her escape), but bad because I don’t date. I become this awkward mess of a girl who rambles, cannot make eye contact and is straight out awkward. He had gotten my number on the weekend at a mutual friend’s house party. All the dating etiquette was strictly observed. Text the next day saying nice to meet me, a phone call on the Monday asking me out for that week – and then the very nicely worded brush off text today. Ah perfection at its best. No, this was not a completely disastrous date; it was actually really nice. First he showed up with an ‘N’ on his car and blamed it on his brother and then curbed the car parallel parking (sure it was your brother’s sticker). I joke, this guy was everything a girl has on her check list: hot, accomplished, smart, caring, complimentary, he fricken volunteers with inner city kids, no he is a gem – but alas it was not there – that spark, that Va Va Voom. We sat and talked for four hours and it was really enjoyable, but obviously from his very nice text he felt the same. This illusive va va voom is a real pain in my ass. After wading knee deep through douche bags in this city, you find one with everything on your list and – BAH! It is not there. And believe me I am not hung up on the check list. No my check list is what most would call sub-standard - and my very few exes are the proof (if you can even call them Exes – does 4 dates make them an Ex? Lets just call them men I have slept with – no no cannot do that because now it goes from few to … well many. Whatever, who needs labels). The check list consists of traits such as: employed, literate, not a midget – not really asking for a lot – but this VaVaVoom. It is also does not help that I have Daddy issues that would make me a prime contender as one of Charlie Harpers many ladies. But those are stories for another time. No it was an exciting week because I had a date, with a lovely gentleman of outstanding moral character, finally. But alas it means nothing because it is going no where. Have to say those recommended prescription drugs are looking better and better everyday.
Love Klassy Kass
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