The Virginity Monologues

I'm in a position that I haven't been in for probably over a year. My life is 100% completely man-free. There is officially no one left. All hangers on and fuck buddies have been eliminated.

Dave is gone. I've been taking a little crap for this, but I don't care how much money a man makes, if 'it' isn't there, then I'm not sticking around. Not worth it.

Scott, who has been SO good for the last 3 months, has apparently reverted back to Scott the Asshole and I don't want to deal with his shit anymore, I don't care how good the sex is. Surely, it'll be that good with someone else, right? Please say I'm right?

And those were really the only 2 men that I was at all involved with, and since they are both now gone, it looks as if I will never have sex again.

I'd like to say that it feels good. That it doesn't matter that I'm completely alone because I didn't let them push me around and treat me like crap, but really it just feels kind of empty. What do I think about now before I go to sleep at night? Who do I look forward to seeing now? Who do I wear my fabulous breast shirts for? Who can I practice blow-jobs on? (I still need some work in this area)

I'd like to take a break from all men until the end of this no-food-constant-work-0ut program. I'd like to be okay enough with myself to not need any validation from men.

To myself, I say only- Good Luck With That.

Location: McDonalds. Moscow, Russia.

June 15, 1998

"Hold up, can you hear what's playing? Do you hear the lyrics to the song?" I asked.

We all stopped what we were doing to pay attention to the song playing in McDonalds.

And it's breaking my heart, I know what I must do
I hear my country call me, but I want to be with you

It was eerie, the way those words so accurately reflected what was going on in most of our hearts right at that moment. I struggled to gain composure for maybe the 100th time that day, but I couldn't do it and just gave in, and let myself cry right there in McDonalds, for everything that I had just lost.

I was such a different person than I had been when I got off the plane in Russia, just 6 months earlier. I had been so afraid. It was so cold. And the food was so weird. I ached for home.

After the 22 hour train ride from Moscow to our city ended, she was waiting there at the train station for me. Tanya. The woman who would be my host mother for the next 6 months. She already knew that it was my birthday when I got there and it was the first thing she said to me. And I found a new home.

She became my best friend. She walked me all around the city, showing me everything, teaching me how to use the buses and the trams. She left breakfast cooking on the stove for me every morning and made me dinner every night. She worried about me when I came home late and got excited for me when I got mail. Every night, we talked over dinner for hours. Learning about each others lives and teaching each other about our different cultures. We went to the ballet together and she showed me, with pride, the city's first grocery store (most food shopping was done in markets).

She introduced me to her family, taking me to her brother's house for the craziest dinner parties I had ever experienced. How we laughed at the crush that her 14 year old nephew, Serge, had on me and his mother's constant antics to try and get us together.

Leaving her was the hardest thing I have ever done, not knowing if I was ever going to see her again. I had been sick my last few days there and I do not remember a more miserable time in my life. Trying to pack, but having to lay down every few minutes to stop the nausea. Tanya would come in and try to help me, but we would get jumbled up in our tears and she would have to leave the room.

I was the last one on the train to Moscow when it was time to leave. I had to hug her one last time, never wanting to let go.

"I always wanted a daughter," she said, "now I know."

I could not have planned a more perfect day than Sunday ended up being. I met my bestest friend, Karen, after church and we just sort of let things happen to us. First we stopped at Marshall's on 125th street, where I purchased a sleeveless lace top by Michael Kors that makes my breasts look so fantastic that if Marc ever sees me in this thing, he will immediately get down on his knees and beg, I'm sure of it. Then it was off to my most favorite nail place on the Upper West Side for my bi-weekly mani/pedi. After our we were properly manicured, we wandered to a Greek restaurant a few blocks away where I had grilled lamb and grilled vegetables (all meals out have two rules I have forced myself to follow: no french fries and no white flour). It was DELICIOUS. Who knew that eating healthy could taste so damn good?

After dinner we had a little time to kill before going to see Hollywoodland, so we made a quick pit stop in Banana Republic where I purchased a sweater that makes the blue in my eyes practically glow.

It was a good clothing day for me.

It was a good everything day for me.

I hope everyone is lucky enough to have a 'Karen' in their lives.

I'm seeing Scott tonight. I'm practically dancing with anticipation.

I'm in a good mood today! Which is very suprising considering a few things.

A- I've been up since 6:30, as I had to work out before coming to work today. Generally, I am not fond of the early rising business. Oh, and I'm sore everywhere. All the time.

B- I was going to do Pilates on my lunch break, but forgot my work-out clothes. Pooh. (Oh and for those that were wondering, I loved the Pilates. I love the focus on the breathing and all that jazz. Left me feeling very less stressed)

C- I was supposed to have my food delivered last night, but UPS is incompentent scumbags and didn't leave it with my super like I requested, so now I have to wait until today to get it, which means that I have no food for today, which means that I have to figure out what to eat on my own, which means that I will surely consume way too many calories, because I am terrible at this.

D- I ran into Marc last night outside of Karen's apartment. He gave me the biggest hug, I've potentially ever received in the entirety of my life, as if he couldn't hold on to me tight enough, and then didn't stop touching me until he went inside his house. Karen suggested that I call her when I got home to analyze the evening's events, but really, I don't care. I mean how many ways can we figure out to say- He wants me, but he's a child and just wants to play. His behavior needs no analysis. And I'm done agonizing over it. NEXT!

Other than all items aforementioned, things are great! I'm trying the orange flavored Crystal Light with my water this morning and it tastes like Tang! So, I love it!

Random Thought: I think I am the only person alive not out-of-control in love with the song Crazy by Gnarls Barkley. I like it, sure. But I haven't downloaded it no do I have a need to hear it all the time. Does that make me crazy?

I kept to my 2 drink minimum last night, and what made it even better, I didn't pay a penny for either one! HOT! Although, my stomach being in the state of serious emptiness, after drinking 2 glasses of wine, I was pretty buzzed, which is not normal. Luckily I had a friend walking with me back to the subway (it was early, 8ish) to keep me from veering into Taco Bell.

Still in a bad mood. Mostly due to hunger. And lack of sleep. I'm either getting up extra early to do the videos before I go to work, or to get to work early so I can leave early to go to class. Plus they've been hitting us over the head with a frying pan about not sleeping for at least 3 hours after we eat. Uh, do they understand this city at all? I'm in class until at least 8-8:30 half the week, and it's not like I can just hop in a Honda, drive 5 minutes and be home. I take the subway. Which is a time consuming process. I usually don't eat until at least 9:30-10:00 (because it also takes a freakishly long time to prepare the food), so staying up until 1:00 am is NOT an option. I'm hoping desperately that I will start to get used to this regimen after I've been doing it a little longer.

But in the meantime, I'm still grumpy.

And quite frankly, right now, I don't give a shit about men. I don't care if I never see Scott, Dave or Marc again. I don't want to date anybody. I don't feel a need to see anybody. I'm not dying to have sex with anybody. I don't look at my phone, hoping someone has called. I just don't care. Is there any way to make this feeling last?

I am not in a good mood. Generally my answer to this problem is Hershey Nuggets with Toffee and Almonds. I can't have those. So instead, I'm eating a lot of vegetables. Not QUITE the same thing. If I make it through the next 3 months without pulling all of my hair out, it will be a miracle.

Reason #538 to continue with current diet program: The man that just rode past me on the street and said, "Hey jiggles," in the creepiest manner imaginable.

Double ewww.

My determination will be seriously tested tonight though. It's a going away party for a coworker. Cocktails and appetizers. Staying away from cocktails is probably a fantastic idea since a. they have a ton of calories, and b. I have a permanently empty stomach. And its especially important that I keep empty-stomach-drunkeness at bay in this situation, as I went to this girl's birthday party, at the exact same venue, about a year and a half ago. I was still a little new to the drinking and partying sort of lifestyle and ended up REALLY drunk. So drunk, that I puked there, at the club, on the way to the bathroom. In a corner, but still, not in an appropriate puke receptacle. An incident that I have been embarrassed about every single day since its occurance.

After puking a couple more times on the subway ride home (I have since learned to ALWAYS take cabs that late at night, at any level of drunkeness), I vowed never to let myself get so out of control again.

And I haven't.

So, now that I've completely veered off topic. Let's just say I'm going to limit myself to 2 glasses of wine (preferably a white, pinot grigio) - MAXIMUM and no appetizers.

And I'm gonna stick to it, bitches.

I was going to post a picture of the boots that I bought this weekend, but Blogger is struggling with image uploads. I have become such a shoe whore! Pointy toe. 3" heel. Damn, I'm going to be sexy in these.

I wore the new red patent leather shoes on a date with Dave on Sunday night. It apparently made enough of an impact on him to tell me that he wants us to date exclusively. That's right. Exclusively. Wha? Who talks about exclusivity on the 4th date? And he wanted to make plans for us to go to Miami in January/February. And when I told him that my ultimate dream (as in, never really going to happen) would be to own my own record company, he suggested that we start it together.

Is anyone else creeped out?

I don't really know what to do. He's perfect, on paper. He's gorgeous. He's successful. He treats me really well. He pursues me aggressively. He has an amazing body. However, he's a little territorial and I don't know that he really 'gets' me (although, really, does anyone?).

And there's a zing missing.

I think I'm going to have to end things with him. I'm not ready to be exclusive with him. I don't want to give up Scott (who also wanted to get together last weekend, but I had to tell him no, as I was too tired and sore from all the working out that I've been doing).

Day 5 of the New Me. I had a major breakdown on Sunday night. The sugar withdrawl has been tough, as I used to eat a lot of it and now I am eating none. So when my roommate pulled out some Mike 'n Ikes on Sunday night as I was preparing my vegetables and pork dinner, I lost it. I don't know that I've ever wanted a Mike 'n Ike more. I resisted. But I still cried. A lot. It was a ridiculous scenario, I'll admit. But it's getting better.

I'm still hungry, all the time, but it doesn't bother me as much anymore. And the more I say 'no' to things, it gets easier and easier.

In about 45 minutes, I will attend my first ever Pilates class. It's not part of my required work-out routine, but I figure as long as I'm trying new things (i.e. eating a protein peanut butter bar), I might as well give it a whirl. I'm planning to incorporate pilates and yoga classes into my lunch breaks; instead of going to Duane Reade for tampons, Hershey Nuggets with Toffee and Almonds and nail polish, then making a stop at the deli on the way back for anything with those spicy cajun fries that I love so dearly. I'm hoping these new classes will help me manage my stress and just maybe keep me focused enough to continue on with this meal plan that is already threatening my sanity. I don't do hungry very well. And I sense a LOT of hungry in the next 3 months.

As my last hoo-rah, I went out with L (one of my bestest friends) and Email Boy last night. The laughter and the mojitos flowed like that huge river in Brazil that I am presently blanking on the name of. The most hilarious conversation was about Dirty Talking that had me blushing to the roots of my hair. Email Boy was freakishly comfortable with the discussion. I think I may have underestimated him.

It's going to be a crazy weekend. L is in town for a few more days, my crazy-ass cousin comes into town tonight, Marc's cousin, who wants my help in starting a business in an area that I happen to have a lot of expertise, is coming into town and wants to have a business meeting, and Dave wants to go out at some point.

At least I won't have time to think about how hungry I am!!!!

Labels: Email Boy

Tonight is the beginning of a new era of my life. I have committed myself to a 3 month program/study where I can only eat the food provided to me and have to work out at least 6 times a week (3 times on my own, 3 times at the classes provided). Although it goes against everything I believe in, I have vowed to go without french fries for the entire 3 months. Incidentally, I also, at one point, vowed to go without men for the entire 3 months, but had to rescind that shortly thereafter when I realized there was no way in hell that I could stick to that. Tonight is the beginning of the program, which explains why I am, at the present moment, stuffing myself with mashed potatoes (because I LOVE potatoes and I will miss their sweet faces).

I am hoping, by the time this program is over, I will be in a good enough place to stop thinking that I only deserve scumbag men and start going after men who actually treat me with respect and decency.

And so, I present to you-

The Top Ten Reasons Why I Am/Would Be a Great Girlfriend

10. I give GREAT massages/foot rub. And feet don't freak me out, so I have no trouble giving you a foot massage at the end of a tough day. I used to do it for my best friend (that was a guy) all the time.

9. I can cook. Really well. And I love cooking for other people. Did I ever mention the dessert that I made for Marc's birthday dinner? Baked mangoes (in butter and brown sugar), tortilla triangles dipped in butter, cinnamon and sugar, then baked until crispy, served with french vanilla ice cream. Oh and I also made my world-famous chocolate chip cookies.

8. I love live sports. I, obviously, especially love baseball. But I am always happy to attend football, basketball and I really dig hockey.

7. Three words: tits and ass. I've got 'em and I know how to use 'em.

6. I'm more than just a pretty face. I've lived in Russia, I majored in Greek and Roman history, and I read everything I can get my hands on about current music/movies. I can hold fairly decent conversation and a man will never have to use small words around me. I can talk serious stuff, but I can also probably outquote anyone on So I Married an Axe Murderer (Head! Pants! Now!).

5. I don't need to spend every waking minute with you. I'm extremely independent and my own personal space is very important to me. I don't want to see you everyday. I won't call you 500 times a day when we're apart. That's not my style.

4. I LOVE sex. LOVE IT! If you're dating me, guaranteed you're going to be gettin' it A LOT. And I'm absolutely all about keeping it interesting and making sure you're completely satisfied.

3. I'm a high maintenance and low maintenance type of girl. I take care of myself- I do the hair cuts and the highlighting, the mani/pedi's, and I'm very into fashion. However- I can be completely ready (shower and hair included) in 30 minutes or less. I don't have to be perfectly made up every time I step out the door. I am completely comfortable in worn jeans and no makeup, but I can also make you proud to have my on your arm at any event.

2. I have a fabulous sense of humor. When I'm in My Groove, I am a One-Woman Entertaining Machine. I absolutely love to laugh and to be able to find the humor in any situation.

1. I will love you with my whole heart and soul. And I believe in really fighting for the things worth fighting for. I don't give up. I don't bail. I don't look for reasons to get out. Once I choose to give you my heart, its yours.

I don't know that I've ever been more glad to see the end of a weekend.

Friday afternoon, I took the afternoon off work to decorate for Kevin's birthday party at the bar he had rented out for the evening. Karen and I spent all afternoon running around, gathering supplies and dancing to the songs coming from the jukebox. I had just barely enough time to run home, get changed and run back to the restaurant where we were having dinner. I was feeling okay about my ability to deal with the Marc Situation considering that Scott had called me the day before and wanted me to come over that night (choosing Friday specifically, so I didn't have to leave to go to work early the next morning). Scott could not have chosen a better time to want to see me.

Dinner was still tortuous. Marc seated himself directly to the side of me and spent the entire dinner harrassing me in some way. He ran his fingers through my hair, commenting on my hair cut (VERY few people noticed). At one point, he leaned over, wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close, nuzzling my cheek and neck with his nose. Later he asked me how my food was multiple times and when I told him that he had already asked me that, he responded that he had just wanted to talk to me again. It was very apparent that this man still wants me.

After dinner, we moved to the bar a few blocks away. Marc didn't show up and I stayed about an hour dancing and drinking before leaving for Scott's house. I heard that Marc showed up shortly after I left, and asked where I was. When Karen informed him that I 'had other things to do', he asked her if I had left to go hook up with another guy and she just shrugged off the question, leaving it open. Apparently, he didn't stay long.

Scott was an absolute god-send that night. When I got there, he sat me down and took off my shoes and rubbed my feet. I was tired and after commenting on my beautiful hair-cut and how gorgeous I looked, he wrapped me up in his arms and let me just lay there. I can only lay in his arms so long though, and before not too long, he was kissing me in that fabulous way that he does and then he went down on me (every time!) and I was in HEAVEN. I LOVE being with this man. I sometimes think I am here on earth JUST to experience having sex with him. Because I can't imagine that anything in life is ever going to be better than this. After we had sex, he wrapped me up in his arms again and we just laid there and talked, with him occasionally dropping kisses on my shoulder, my arms, my cheeks, my neck, and I don't know that I've ever felt safer or more comfortable with anyone. Like always, there was Round 2. And just like always, it was life-altering sex. Its hard to believe, but it gets better every time. After I had an orgasm that was so damn powerful that I'm pretty sure it altered my genetic makup, we were still going (me on top) and he pulled me down close to him and started whispering in my ear how sexy he thinks I am and all kinds of stuff that girls absolutely die to hear and before I knew it, I was coming again. I'm officially multi-orgasmic! Shortly thereafter he woke everyone in a 50 mile radius up with his climax and due to the pools of sweat we created, a shower was necessary. He scrubbed my back, I scrubbed his and I laughed as he sang to me.

We toweled off and went back into his room to FINALLY go to sleep. But then we started arguing about music and to prove something to me, he turned on his music, and then started dancing me around the room. As he held me tight, singing along to the music, his eyes staring directly into mine as we swayed to the music (both still in our towels), I don't know that I've ever felt more complete than I did in that moment. Ever.

I had to leave early-ish the next morning. Scott didn't want me to go. He wanted me to stay the whole weekend, he didn't ever want to get out of bed. But I had to bake 3 batches of cookies for the barbeque that night and make about 30-40 chicken kabobs. I was meeting Karen at 1, so as much as I was aching to stay in that bed all day long, The Birthday Barbeque had to take precedence.

After spending all day baking and skewering kabobs, I had to, again, rush home and get ready, and turn around and rush back. I was running a little late, but since it was a BBQ, I didn't think it was a big deal. As I neared Kevin's apartment building (the bbq was taking place in the courtyard), my phone dinged with a text message. It read:

Marc: Yo, where are you?
Me: I'm just pulling up in a cab. I'm right out front.
Marc: What's the hold up? Get yer ass here.
Me: I'm coming! Keep your pants on!

Why is he ordering me around? After I arrived he pulled me tightly to him to tell me how glad he was that I was there. For the rest of the evening, I made the rounds talking to people and deliberately avoiding him. Every time we talked, he sought me out and not the other way around. He left early, but I didn't even know he was gone until he sent me a text message telling me that he had eaten too many cookies (which I made) and that he had gone home. Later his roomate came up to me and asked me where Marc was. This was interesting for 2 reasons.

1. Why does his roomate assume that I know where Marc is? Shouldn't he be the one to know those things?
2. I actually knew the answer to the question and when I told Adam that Marc had gone home, he asked what I had done to him. I don't think that "Fuck off" was the answer he was looking for.

I'M SO TIRED OF THIS SHIT.

Be with me or don't be with me. End of story. STOP FUCKING WITH MY HEAD!

Labels: Marc, Scott

An Open Letter to Marc:

Do you remember when we were in your kitchen, I was at the sink doing the dishes and you came over and leaned your back up against me as you were fooling around on your phone. Remember that hip movement that I did to get you off me that left you virtually speechless?

That was only the tip of the iceberg, pal.

The things I wanted to do to you. I wanted to sit on your lap and kiss you until we both couldn't breath. I wanted to kiss along your collarbone and run my hands, endlessly over your chest and your ridiculously large arms. I wanted to never let go of your perfectly squeezable ass. I wanted to feel the weight of you on top of me, my nails digging into your back with you saying my name in my ear. Then I wanted to flip you over and show my favorite place to be, a place where you can see all the magic that these hips can work. Then I wanted to fall asleep in those arms, only to wake you up and do it all over again a few hours later.

I wanted to love you with infinite abandon.

I've known all along that we weren't in the same place. I haven't ever slept with you because I've been hoping that you would eventually see me as more than just a girl to nail, that I would be enough for you to not want to sleep around anymore.

Kevin (your good friend and mine) had a little talk with me last night. He called me a big dummy and told me to start reading the writing on the wall. You aren't going to come around anytime soon. Your playing days have just begun and I will never be more than ass to you.

I always knew this. Coming from Kevin made it that much more real and practically tangible.

I know that you want to fuck me. But I also know that I'm in control. I choose whether or not it happens. And IF it ever does, and that's a big if, it will be on MY terms. Not yours.

It's Kevin's big birthday party this weekend. Since Karen and I are his unofficial party planners and chefs for the barbeque, I will be at all the events, which means we will probably be seeing a lot of each other. I pray every day for the strength to treat you with the same indifference that you have shown me and to keep this big weekend drama-free for Kevin's sake.

Because, really, when everything is said and done, I don't want to be your friend anymore.

Sincerely,
Chloe

Labels: Marc

There is a very weird phenomenon that is going on in my life. Men who are supposed to be LONG GONE keep coming back. I feel like I'm living in Bizarro-World.

Case in point: I was walking home from the subway last night and I passed Jay, my next door neighbor who I was fucking last winter, who said, 'hey' to me as I walked past. Our... interesting relationship went up in a veritable ball of flames right around my birthday and he's done a very good job of avoiding me ever since. I've run into him a couple of times, and once we even talked a little. I'd be lying if said I didn't enjoy his company. He's freakishly charismatic and if I remember correctly, pretty damn good in the sack. I didn't stop to talk as I walked past, I was tired and I just wanted to get home, so that I could then go do laundry. I LOATHE doing laundry, so it always puts me into a bit of a snit when I know its looming before me.

As I left my building to head to the laundromat, Jay was walking up the street. As he neared me he said, "I was just heading over to your place, but it looks like you're going to do laundry. Want me to help you with that?"

He grabs a bag and walks with me to the laundromat. He talks to me as I do my laundry and we're laughing a lot and having a good time together. He teases me about how all the guys on the street talk about me all the time. It's all very harmless and good natured.

Here is our parting conversation.

Jay: So, I got some stuff I gotta take care of, but.... can I come over later?
Me (once I stop laughing): No
Jay: Why not, I just want to hang out with you!
Me: Because we've played this game before and I ended up getting fucked over.
Jay: Well, maybe this is a new game.
Me: You still can't come over. See ya!

I tell Karen and she is flabbergasted. She met Jay once and has declared him to be the best looking of all the men that I have had the bad taste to fall for. I confess to being completely flabbergasted myself. I thought we were done, me and Jay. Well, in my mind, we are. And that's all the matters.

Do all of these men keep coming back (Marc, Mr. Wrong, Jay) because I am unforgettable and irresistable or am I just an easy target?

Labels: Jay

WARNING!! This post is going to be long. I just returned from Montreal and there is a shitload to tell. And quite frankly, when everything is said and done, I think I'm moving to Canada.

We arrived on Friday afternoon and after a necessary brief map (I didn't sleep much the night before, I was a little anxious, if you can imagine) we hit the main shopping street. The first store we stepped into felt like we had been transported to another universe. The shop assistants were NICE. They wanted to HELP! They asked us questions and bent over backwards for us. The unbelievable friendliness of the people there was a continual theme for the entire weekend. Waitstaff, bus drivers, bellboys, baristas- EVERYONE (well, except for some bitchy girls in the clubs, but that's just cause they were jealous because we were so hot) was friendly. Karen and I gushed about it constantly.

For our first meal in Montreal we ate at a pub on one of the main club/restaurant/pub streets (Crescent St. for those in the know) and were seated next to some men from.... New York. We talked for FOUR hours. They were clearly very into us and bought our lunch, but as they were pushing 50, Karen and I were not so interested, although we really did enjoy their conversation. When we were finally able to tear ourselves away from them, we went back to the shopping and the wandering.

Dinner that night was inconsequential at a mexican place that we were told was good, but really, not so much. After dinner we wandered back over to Crescent street where we were immediately accosted by a promoter asking us if we'd like to go to a club- cover free. We agreed and he escorted us up to a club where we discovered some very interesting things- we were SPECTACULARLY overdressed. We went out dressed as New Yorkers and discovered that the people in Montreal did not go quite to the lengths that we do. We also discovered that the good people of Montreal do not know how to dance. A nice man had started talking to us when we arrived and was nice and funny, so we continued to let him talk to us. After observing the atrocity of the dance floor for a while, we decided to go out there and show them how it was done. Our nice man friend, who we will call Chris, came with us. Karen and I really get into our dancing. We love it and it shows. Chris latched on to me and didn't let go. Other men came and tried to dance with me, but Chris would shove them off, and I was not so much enjoying it. Karen was also receiving her own fair share of attention and had it not been for Mr. Pushy-Pants Chris, I would have been actively pursuing several gentlemen in the room. But I couldn't shake him, no matter how hard I tried and we eventually had to leave just to get rid of him.

The next morning we hit Old Montreal to go to a restaurant that had been touted as having a great brunch. To say that it was a pleasant dining experience is a HUGE understatement. We ate in the absolutely gorgeous back garden area and the food was phenomenal. There was a jazz quartet playing quietly in the background and the sun was providing the perfect amount of warmth. After our unbelievable breakfast, we rented bicycles and rode along the St. Lawrence river. It was the perfect morning.

We walked some more around Old Montreal, went into the Notre Dame cathedral, made scathing comments about the fashion and stopped in at a patisserie for some hot chocolate.

We went way off the main drag to go to a Thai restaurant that I had read about for dinner. Totally worth it. Again, the waitstaff was crazy friendly and the food was absolutely delicious. Then we hit Club Orchid. I had done my research ahead of time, thanks to a very helpful reader who will remain anonymous, and had gotten us on the guestlist at the club. Due to this foresight, we were immediately whisked through the velvet rope and straight into the club. Once inside the club, we were again surprised to find ourselves the objects of attention from many, many men. It was BIZARRE. I fully expected to be completely ignored in Montreal. After going through a few different men, I found my dancing match in a guy named Brett. We danced until the sweat poured off us and then we retired to a dark corner to do some making out. I think he was a little disappointed at the end of the night when I repeatedly refused to go home with him, but Karen and I made a pact before we even left on the trip that we would never leave each other. And we never did. Although, we he did share our taxi back to our hotel since he was very close to us and if I had not already decided against him, the taxi ride would have been the clincher when he did not pony up ONE CENT for the taxi fare. What an absolute shithead. Then he spent even more time trying to convince me to go home with him even though I was repeatedly saying no. At one point, I even said to him, "why do you want me to go with you when I SO VERY CLEARLY do not want to?" It was frustrating. Very frustrating.

Sunday morning proved to be the best restaurant find of the trip. It was a hassle to get there (subway and a very long bus ride) but I don't know that I have ever enjoyed a meal more. It was a brazilian restaurant called Senzala, and I got the traditional eggs benedict, but it came with fruit kabobs marinated in coconut milk and grilled, with tons of fresh fruit. Seriously, it was one of the MOST delicious meals of my life. It was starting to get cold and rainy, so we decided to hit the famed underground mall(s). We found a ton of really great stuff (which makes one wonder why the fashion was SO continually horrendous).

For dinner that night, we went to a very fancy French restaurant in Old Montreal, which was DIVINE (can you tell that both Karen and I are foodies?). She had swordfish, I had duck and for dessert we had profiteroles and I don't know that my stomach has ever been happier. We did some more walking around Montreal that night, both deep in despair at the prospect of having to leave the next day. We had both found a relief, a sense of peace in Montreal that had been eluding us for a while in our hectic, stress filled lives. I was sleeping completely through the night, something I haven't done in weeks. We both seemed to glow with utter contentment. Which may have been the reason for the unremitting attention from men there, or it could just be that Canadian men seem to know a good thing when they see it.

But either way, when we got on the bus yesterday afternoon to take us to the airport, we were not ready to leave (especially not after the delicious strawberry crepe that I had for breakfast).

I also discovered something interesting in the customs line at the Montreal airport. Karen and I were talking, about nothing in particular that I recall, when the man in front of me started talking to me. And continued to talk to me as we wound our way to the front. We discussed Montreal, and baseball. He wasn't particularly handsome, but there was something about him that piqued my interest. He was funny and personable. As he walked away to his gate to depart to Chicago, I turned to Karen and I said, "I would date him."

Ladies and gentlemen, I have officially started liking the white boys again. As said to me by Email Boy- congratulations to me for adding 80% of the population back into my dating pool.