The Last Saskatchwan Pirate

Throwing it back to 2016… that seems like forever ago.

One weekend back in 2016, I went back home to Saskatoon to go to a wedding which in turn was basically a family function.  The prospects were bleak and/or it was a hands off situation, ie: Groomsmen? Sure, however weren’t my type/taken and with child.  Needless to say, as soon as infamous wedding crasher like song called “The Last Saskatchewan Pirate” came on, I texted a girlfriend and exited stage left.

That night turned out to be an absolute blast to the point that it was tempting to move back home again.  I had already been in Vancouver for 4 years at this point and it was very much an inbetween moment for me as school had tainted the true Vancouver experience.  I got to reconnect with a girlfriend, ran into a friend from highschool (huge blast from the past by the way… Like whoa) and I definitely made out with a gorgeous, accomplished prairie boy.

We are going to call him Captain Tractor.  Captain was known as the guy that wanted to be centre of attention while out but never got it. He was also the guy that, from what I understand, was always in a relationship. He was a cross-fitter, project manager for a construction company (albeit for his daddy’s company) and a homeowner.  The caveat to him was that he was newly divorced… woof. He had a confident stature about him and was cocky enough to assume I was going to go home with him.  AND being that I was testing myself, I opted to turn that ever so generous offer down. 

I do want to be clear about the reasons I turned him down:

Reason 1: I was testing out the practice of celibacy that year even though I knew I already broke this rule so that reason wasn’t exactly valid.…

Reason 2: Shark week… #enoughsaid

Reason 3: Because of said shark week, bloatage was at an all time high and therefore spanx were part of the secret wardrobe.  NO woman should have to explain why spanx are in their closet but because of a possible “random intimate moment” that was not an admission I wanted to explain. 

What I did learn from this is a) I can easily have self control however, there were a number of variables that were of assistance here, b) making out is ACTUALLY the most fun (my ex was not into PDA at all and it was fucking annoying, like love me in public already) and c) get rid of the fuckin spanks, embrace the bloatage.

Captain and I managed to keep in touch over the years.  I will also admit that he was dating someone and I was the “other woman” in the sense that our communication was less than appropriate.  But after all that, we managed to always make time to see each other, one time landing him and I in whistler   together for some QT (aka quality time).  Him as a person was always something that I was curious about. He and I could carry some sort of a conversation, the sexual chemistry was there but anything deeper than that was almost off limits.  In whistler there were moments that we would be walking hand in hand and other moments that he would slap my hand away.  I planned some things for us including the ice room vodka tasting and our intimate moments were comfortable, like we were a couple and it was natural.  I tried to ask about his divorce cause I KNEW that element alone was a riding factor for our… whatever this was.  And of course, I couldn’t crack that shell open. 

We ended up losing touch for some time because eventually I got tired of being this “dirty little secret” and “fuck buddy” as with every guy I dated, this was the agreement… no commitment, but girlfriend experience.  I also got to the point that I had a “you’re either in or out” mentality and therefore harsh conversation ensued making the cut off very clear for me.  And because of this search for self worth was successful, I had moved on. 

Fast forward to post abusive relationship with someone else, Captain and I had gotten back in touch.  We were communicating regularly and it became a habit that whenever I was home in Saskatoon, we made a point of spending time together… even Christmas Night with sleepover included.  At one point prior, I was playing with the possibility of moving back to Saskatoon to give us a chance and he had said over and over again, “but what if we don’t work out?” And while at the time, this logic was completely lost on me, it is now very evident that we likely would never pan out as a couple.  However, we are both still in each other’s lives and for some reason his pet name for me slips on occasion and my girlfriend like support makes its way into our conversation, it has become something too comfortable.  And with every minute we spend together, I learn something new about him in which helps me understand him even more.  And in some ways, those moments have helped me (or maybe even both of us) to appreciate the comfort we both have for each other.  I have been trying to determine if this type of comfort is helping me avoid some inner demons that came from my abusive relationship or if it just something easy in which I don’t have to give up anything.  And maybe that’s the point?  Maybe he is in my life to prove that I don’t have to filter or change or be someone I am not just to keep a “man” around.  I am living a great life (not without menty B’s and life’s stresses creating a giant laundry basket full of dirty laundry).  And even in all that, him and I still connect.  To him, I’m still “babe”.  To me, I’m proud of him no matter where his career takes him.  To him, watching my travels through social media is exciting just like when I ask him for this week’s picks for fantasy football, watching together from afar.

I know eventually, that type of dynamic in this relationship will have to go if I want a legitimate companionship but there is nothing wrong with having that comfort that is like hot soup and grilled cheese on a cold day. 

I also realize that Saskatoon had a lot of reasons as to why I would go back and visit and he was always somewhere at the top of the list.  Now that he has taken a huge step of moving out of Saskatoon, that is one more reason to not go back. 

Saskatoon has a lot of good memories (and bad) it will always have a place in my heart and much of the fact is because he is a part of that nostalgia. 

The Lights Were Definitely Twinkling

I told myself this year that I would only drink once a week...

I also told myself I would be celibate...

Can confirm these goals are not going well.

In the last 5 years, in alignment with the time I haven't had my blog posted, I had been envisioning my perfect life. And my perfect life meant that I had all the things I wanted in life because they were right at my fingertips. Whistler and Tofino being the most prestigious of them all.

My trips to whistler started out to be a party and a lot of fun and over the years, it dwindled into a very anti-social experience and just a way to get fresh air, a good steak and to sleep.

Tofino had the opposite effect. I used Tofino to really see nature, get into the water and rest and this time around, it was NOTHING but...

This trip to Tofino was a pleasant surprise and the story of how I met Uncle Art.

My usual antics for Tofino all start out the same. I leave straight after work, sleep on the ferry, stop for groceries and a coffee before I keep going to the motherland. I arrived about 4pm, got some very important Tofino specialties and slept. I woke up the next morning, played in the water then went out for a burger. And in walks Uncle Art.

If I were to compare Uncle Art in reference to National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, it would be incorrect, however the lights were definitely twinkling. He's very much a granola, would likely wear his Birkenstock sandals through to the ground type guy, all of which is an instant turnoff for me. However, he didn't have dreadlocks and in fact was balding and smelled very good. So my turnoff to this? Perhaps a reflection of past decisions cause the second this guy started talking? I was instantly intrigued by the ease of this banter.

Conversation with Uncle Art was unbelievably easy. Comfortable. Like he was your goofy, intelligent best friend and could even challenge you a bit. I was ahead in beverages throughout the night and it was evident as the night went on.

After the bar banter, we left for him to show me around where he works. We attempted to play a game of pool, have a beer (in which I could hardly choke down) and... other things. He told me that he was going to be at the brewery at 5/6pm and to meet him there. I absolutely agreed in my drunken stupor.

I got back to my campsite and crashed in true, post-coitus fashion with my hand in a bag of mini eggs and an open bag of tortilla chips, solo. Waking up the next morning having much regret but even more intrigue about the night before. I did stay in bed for a good chunk of the day all for the fact that I was in fact either still drunk or having consistent "oh fuck me" moments while reliving the evening in my head. I read back on the text message he sent and I went back and forth on whether I would be making an appearance to the brewery or really, if I did, how fashionably late I was going to be. The only thing that continued to ring in my head, or rather in the depths of my broken soul, was that "I am a slut". It was a title I thought of myself for a long time, solidified by my "worm"y ex boyfriend who reminded me of this weekly in an abusive fashion. And in all this ruminating and stewing, I arrived at the brewery at 605pm on the dot.

Uncle Art saw me at the door and waved me in and I found myself a seat a few seats down the bar. He was chatting with his boss so I took my time, got a beverage or two and then made my way to him and his boss. His boss and I had a bit in common so we were able to chat some, while Uncle Art took care of things and met me at the end. I finally sat down next to him and the first thing to come out of his mouth, "I'm surprised you came." Me too bro, me too.

We ended up hanging out 2 of the 3 nights I was there. First night, definitely was way more spontaneous and unexpected, however, in amongst the real true talk of where we both were in our lives (from what I remember) I cried, laughed and never been kissed so passionately from someone I hardly knew. That first one literally shocked the shit out of me, I truly didn't think I could ever have my heart in both my vagina and my chest beat like that again. And this felt like it was the truth. With him, truth was all we spoke. There was absolutely no reason to speak any other way. We both had nothing to hide.

The second night felt even more raw. He had concerns that the small town rumours would start for the mere fact that I was this chick on vacation and here for a good time and not a long time, and he wasn't about to turn that down, per the noted reputation. As a matter of fact, he even told me that he was a bettin' man when he sat down next to me at the bar the first night. The night at his place was almost too comfortable. Taking advantage of different surfaces, in bed, out of bed, and walking around with not a single piece of fabric on our bodies. Finally landing on the couch where the comfort of just the unlimited amount of time we had made it simple. I literally sucked his dick on the couch for an hour and I enjoyed every single minute of it. It never once felt like a chore. I'm sure I told him about 10 times that I was worried I was going to break it and he reassured me every single time that his manhood was in fact strong and will not break. I also told him I was concerned cause he wasn't getting there and I felt like I was failing. He reminded me that it wasn't about him getting there, it was the fact that I enjoyed it that made it so good for him. He looked me in the eye after holding my neck and kissing in a way that the heart in every single corner of my womanhood beat and told me "you're beautiful". I pointed at his yellow submarine, knowing it had done some deep sea diving that evening and screamed, "IT MOVED!" I was not afraid to be myself and I can tell you I had never seen such a beautiful man in my life. When we got in bed, he gave me a fair warning. He was going to snore and he was going to grind his teeth. All of which happened almost instantly and didn't prevent me from going to sleep while snuggled right in the nook.

We have kept in touch very minimally, which being I have only been home a week? I think that's fair and I don't expect much otherwise. He said several times that the girls in town called him a slut and to be honest? A) they are girls not women and B) he's not Fabio but he has more personality and charm than any type of wormy man I have ever dated so I hope he rides that train longer until he finds what he's looking for. I have been overthinking a lot and semi-spiraling only for the fact that something like this I would have considered the old me and one that I was ashamed of and the one that my "worm"y ex boyfriend was also ashamed of. My people closest to me tell me that I am allowed to do anything I want and there shouldn't be any regret. And even though I am spiraling a little bit, I know there is a reason Uncle Art came into this very blurry picture of mine. And even reflecting back on such a fun time in Tofino, it was not only unexpected but also a fresh of breath air, a moment that I have learned from. I looked at many of the men in my life I have had relationships, even more so my most recent and very abusive relationship and its proof that looks mean absolutely nothing and that its personality that makes a person so beautiful that you can't take their eyes off them. I remember just laying in bed with Uncle Art and frankly, even though he was snoring and grinding his teeth, I don't think I had ever met such a decent, kind man in a long time, if ever. Its proof that taking the superficial way of dating doesn't compare to the authenticity of an in person, random meet and greet that makes the moments and stories fucking cool. And realistically, those moments are much of the reason why I have a blog in the first place.

Cheers to you Uncle Art. Thank you for showing me what true beauty in a man can look like but also the beauty of being completely, authentically myself. You picked off a scab and its not bleeding...

I Definitely Don't Have 24 Lessons for 2024...

I have 10... does that work?

Every year around this time, I generally will re-create my goals for the following year and usually in the form of "24 goals for 2024" as cheesy as that is. I know I can't help it. And now that I have this beautiful, aka unfiltered and thereby anonymous platform, I'm going to give you some shit in the form of lessons that got me through not only the last year but really, the last 5 years.

A little break down of the last 5 years; the good, the bad and the ugly:

1. Started out 2019 already wearing a knee brace. I was applying for emergency services and during the physical requirement testing, I blew my knee in a million different places. My orthopedic surgeon said, "try to rehab and you will be ok!"

Narrator: she in fact was not ok...

2. Developed an extremely rare eye disease that was a unique case apparently. Nothing is worth doing if its not done right. This earned me bi-weekly trips to the hospital to see the eye specialist. With these endeavors, I subsequently was hospitalized for a full day waiting for the slew of neurologists to poke me in the back a few times before actually getting it right. Healed eventually but still have remnants of it in my cute little eyeballs.

3. Got my boobs done... YAY! And let me tell you those babies are fun.

4. Finally got surgery on my knee a mere 3 weeks after my boobs... that rehab was NOT as fun.

5. I quit a job that was my literal life for over a decade. I tried so hard to be what I felt they needed me to be and it wasn't even close to the authentic self that I truly was, so I left. Pretty convinced they didn't like me and really, by the end, I hated them and that is a strong word to use. Realistically, it's culty as fuck and most would know what I'm talking about just by that term alone. In other words, easiest choice of my life.

5. I spent Christmas with a side of the family that I hadn't in about 20 years, with the elephant in the room and all. While the reunion was beautiful in some ways, within the last 5 years I learned that an attempt to reconnect was not worth it. I learned that with them, nothing changed and energy wasted was precious in comparison to how they made me feel. I have always been the black sheep of that family as I have never followed into the typical prairie, white picket fence fashion like everyone else.

6. I had miscarriage. And this was a hard lesson. This truly showed me how low I felt of myself and willingly how much of myself I can give and I suffered those consequences alone. I also learned how society, specifically men are void of commitment, support and have selfish tendencies. I hadn't learned yet what the word "selfish" actually meant.

7. I got my dream job with more to come but it surely didn't come easy. This job has also allowed my trucker like speech (in which I should probably go to speech therapy for) to be accepted along with my weird smiles, awkward conversation and my witching hour online shopping, in which everyone has now joined along.

8. I went on two life changing, monumental trips. One that was one of the most important ones in the world but was distracted by a very unworthy human being. And the second, from just this year on a 19 day, 11 city and 5 country trip that was all mine. I felt free.

9. I was diagnosed with epilepsy and got my license taken away for 6 months. Freedom gone. Life long medication, activated. And I fought hard for that stability back.

10. And finally, I was connected to an extremely traumatic incident of domestic violence and learned that term as well as sexual assault with regards to MYSELF from experience and all from 1 insane human being. I fell in love with this person. Or I thought I did. And that love turned to fear which is now hate and has developed into disgust and loathe. I will never be able to look at men the same way again.

So with that very bleak break down of the last 5 years, here are the lessons.

10. Hard work will get you exactly what you want in life and that hard work will give you the life lessons to sustain it.

9. Kindness will never go out of style. As a matter of fact, being kind to others puts me in a better mood. Your bad day is no one's fault so be kind anyway. Here's something catchy: hate has the same amount of letters as love so choose love instead.

8. Judgement is dangerous and eventually can turn into a social weapon for someone else. Someone is always listening...

7. Your body tells you if things aren't right. My brain literally started telling me that I needed to disconnect from the life I was living. I was left with no other choice but to be disconnected from what I thought was what I was waiting for. I now realize it was an insidious disease-like wolf in sheep's clothing, that was slowly ate away at my sense of self. They set me free and now I am am grateful. Oddly enough, I have been seizure free for over a year and have been single for almost the same amount of time, coincidence?

6. Healing, whether body, mind, spirit or otherwise, is never a linear line upwards. Pain comes back, suffering is always dictated by you (feel it but don't sit there) and you creating your own happiness is what appears after everything else is peeled back.

5. Speaking of happiness: your happiness can not be dependent on someone else; your happiness does not exist in a superficial form; and as cliché as it is, you can't be happy with someone else unless you are happy on your own, and B. T. DUBS, that is also not code for "and then I'll meet the man of my dreams". Be the fucking man of your own dreams cause I can guarantee you that your dick is bigger than your pseudo husband you are waiting for. For me right now, I have big dick energy but am also at a point that I'm embracing my inner ogre under a bridge with a stick swatting away anything that makes me unhappy.

4. Speaking of stick swatting... let me introduce you to boundaries. I had not a clue how to set them or even what they were, but now? Listen carefully as I break it down: A) I will make time for things that I feel are important in my life; B) I have to be my first priority (and by the way, this shows up in a lot of ways) and C) If I can't be fully present for something I previously committed to, I have to be honest with myself and take the time to do what I need to do. And also, fuck dishes. They will be there tomorrow, I can guarantee it (exhibit A: the current state of my kitchen and I wish I cared).

3. Your reputation is your resume. Show up with consistency (or what is consistent for you) and that in itself is your resume. I am the same person to every single person in my life, professionally, personally, romantically (however, the ogre under the bridge is monitoring that closely so I don't do anything stupid) and most importantly, myself. I learned this year that the lack of consistency you show yourself is the biggest sacrifice you will ever make, especially when that inconsistency is because of an alternative variable, IE: insidious wolf in sheep's clothing called an ex-boyfriend turned devil incarnate.

2. Not only am I on uppers, downers, a brain Band-Aid and Polysporin for brain cells, but no matter how many times I google "nervous system regulation" I still have no fucking clue what it means. The only thing I have really learned is that crying is cool just like if you pee your pants (Billy Madison reference FYI). So if someone can explain this term further, I'm all ears.

1. And lastly, FIND YOUR FUCKING POKER FACE. There is no possibility that you will flip your lid, and if you're about to? Take a goddamn breath. There is no way for people to know what you are thinking. No one knows what you are working on in the background. And frankly, that same poker face will piss people off and they won't be able to explain why. Win and let other's be confused when you do. Lady Gaga wasn't wrong.

That's it for me... Yet another night shift and one in which I forgot another chick book to power through. This all may not make sense in the morning...