Love Notes To “The One”

On the 1st of January, I reached out to all the husbands I knew (and didn’t really know so well) to hear their answer to: “When did you know she/he was the one?”

MANY, as I expected didn’t even reply. Several didn’t feel they were the right people to contribute but the three who jumped on the opportunity to answer were enough warm my frozen heart and smile like someone who smiles a lot. Jack Nicholson? Yeah, like him.

I told them I could post anonymously if they preferred, but each man was on board to let their lovelies know the story….though I’m sure they knew it already.

Without further adieu, here’s a little sweetness to start your Valentine’s Day:

For Melissa:

When I realized that she loved the “nerd” in me way more than the “cool” Kirk that most of the world sees. At that point I knew it was unconditional and that she was too good for me. It doesn’t hurt that she is gorgeous, strong and passionate. You can’t not love her – everyone can’t be wrong, right?

Melissa & Kirk

Melissa & Kirk

For Jen:

I met Jen at a fairly young age. We both worked in the bar/entertainment scene and weren’t looking to settle down. Like, at all. Upon meeting though, we instantly fell in love and a quick 4 years flew by before we even knew it. We had a house, a dog, and everything a couple could have except a “title”. It was amazing for both of us, but oddly enough we never really talked about marriage. Being a man and succumbing to my natural instincts I got really scared to make that final commitment. I thought that after 4 years, I should just know for sure. We decided to part ways and move on….

After picking up the pieces and getting used to a whole new way of life, I made my akward return to the “dating game”. One night while out to dinner with a nice young girl, I found myself with very little to say. Infact, as she gracefully tried to keep the conversation going i started picturing Jens face in my mind. It was at that point that I realized that I had never experienced a person (male or female) that I could talk to so easily, and with such passion. I knew she was the one I wanted to talk to for the rest of my life.

9 years later I still enjoy our conversations. We’re happily married and have 2 wonderful children.

Sometimes its things in life that you don’t have, that make you realize exactly what you need.

Ian & Jen

Jen & Ian

For Breeyn:

On our first date, I was nervous as hell and trying to suppress my awkward tendencies to tell dumb jokes or act goofy to break the tension. I failed at playing it cool(as per usual) by making a lame joke about The Situation from Jersey Shore. Instantly I wanted to take it back but to my delight, she let out an amazingly loud and adorable laugh. It may sound odd to some that a laugh let me know she was the one, but to me it was a sign that I could be my lame, nerdy self around her and she accepted me for who I am…and also had the same sense of humour as me. My nerves were calmed instantly, the rest of the night went great and 4 years later we’re married and I still love that laugh as much as the first time I heard it.


Breeyn & Kristian & Kristian’s beard. (Photo by Angela O’Callaghan of Gemini Photography)


Small Forks

I have an unreasonable dislike of small forks. Not just any small forks, just the ones I own. You may even say, I hate them for the feelings they invoke in my spirit.

Let me attempt to explain how my head sorts through just one of many things that courses through it on an hourly basis, and then I’ll leave it to you to imagine how every basic element of my life goes through these types of thought processes…times 100. Daily. Exhausted yet? I am.

Let’s say you purchase a set of utensils and organize them in a drawer, waiting for an occasion to set the table with style and flair. My small forks are hidden. Why don’t I get rid of them? I don’t know, when am I ever rational?

I remember a time in my life when I would see my small forks and only be reminded of the lessons we learned from a debonaire and toupee’d Hector Elizondo in “Pretty Woman.” We all knew if given the opportunity to attend a formal event, we would know exactly which utensil will be used for what based on the placement on the table. What a gloriously naive time in my life. I often wish to go back there.

For the last 5+ years, small forks are a tangible representation of my depression. Weird, huh?

How I’ve dreamed of this elaborate romantic table setting for two where I’d prepare decadent meals for my beloved. You have no idea how much I love to be domestic when given the opportunity. I would give anything to spoil a man regularly. It’s not something I tire of, it’s something I love to do. I LOVE IT. I can make my own money and bring home my own bacon, but let me crumble that salty delight over the cream sauce I made from scratch enveloping the baked chicken atop the seasoned noodles…..for you. Let’s share this dessert I baked from an old family recipe – one plate, two small forks.

FORKS - 2b

At some point, those small forks would be the utensils for those tiny humans with my smile and his ears. They would need to use these because the larger forks are difficult to maneuver with such short fingers. They would help set the table at this point in their chubby-legged lives; each one having their own small fork they use for every meal. Maybe we’ve marked them by this point because we’ve learned the sibling rivalry at meal time isn’t worth it. Over the heads of our babes, we’d steal a glance and half-smile at the memories of those small forks in our courting years. The incredible salads we ate & desserts we fed each other using them; the joy of those moments almost eclipsed by the absolute bliss of the family we have now despite the many hardships relationships face. We prevailed and look! Look at what we made.

You see, small forks aren’t just four mini-tined metal objects I toss into my utensil organizer that’s stuffed in my kitchen drawer. A depressed mind can project these unrealistic expectations and importance on things you’ve probably walked by/used/ignored/had collecting dust in your everyday life. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t take a peek where I’ve hidden those small forks. For the way I loathe them as this glaring reminder of what I feel is missing in my life; there’s also an imperceptible nudge, just behind my heart that feels too much, that one day believes I’ll need some masking tape & a Sharpie to distinguish between them.


I Always Hope You’re Well: A (very) Short Story

These five words made me breakdown on Saturday night. I don’t know if you have one of these, but I’m convinced everyone does: that one friend you don’t see often, but they’re one of your mains. They know all of your demons and always pop up when you need them most even when you’re not looking for help.

This past weekend, my friend stopped by my place to bestow some season’s greetings and also say bye before his annual trip abroad to volunteer with children.  Now, those who know me know how difficult it is to get into my home. My own parents have to plan this out with me almost weeks in advance. I don’t know why this is a product of my social anxiety and depression, but it’s one of the main things I’m working on with my counsellor. I need to let people in. Somehow, this dude lets himself in, metaphorically &  physically-speaking. He never really asks to come over, he just says he’ll be coming to town. I’m forced to sit in my uneasiness and prepare for the impending visit. He’s never pushy, it’s just the unspoken/unwritten deal we have, I guess. The visits aren’t long, but they are some of the most nutrition-filled for my soul. We catch up, we vent, we share, we listen, we sit in silence. Neither of us will say anything to make things “better,” but just having someone to tell it to is exactly what’s needed.

When he leaves he always gives proper hugs. (Yes, there are right and wrong ways to hug and the explanation will be a later post.) There’s nothing sexual, suggestive or romantic about it. It’s all-encompassing. There’s a transfer energy I didn’t know I was lacking. He doesn’t speak during, he doesn’t pat my back in quick succession to indicate “that’s enough;” he simply provides something sturdy for me to hold on to when I’m feeling effing weak. He gives me a momentary sense of security I’m missing in my life. He makes it okay for me to let my guard down. I don’t have to be the independent, mature adult who’s the great pretender. I get to be the girl I hide in the presence of company; who doesn’t know what the f*ck I’m doing & wishes I had the love and support from someone special in my life.

Love & Other Drugs

Before he let go, he quietly said, “I always hope you’re well.” That was it for me. Those five words. My breath simultaneously whooshed from my lungs & caught in my throat. Such an innocent sentiment. I hope the sound that came from me signified an adequate “thanks.” And then he was gone. A whirlwind visit that fed my malnourished, emotional belly.

I’m only human. A damaged one at that, so the tears flowed freely when he was gone. A much-needed seasonal cry.

We have to remember for all the talking we continue to do, our brains exhaust us with the good fight. We should never feel guilty for taking some time just for ourselves. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that especially at this time of year.

That’s the end. I just wanted to get it off my chest.

Here’s to 2015, a brand-new year of self-help, self-love & self esteem.  I hope we remain well, my loves.

Untitled (#BlackLivesMatter)

Here’s the good and bad of it: I really don’t think this conversation will stop. Nor do I think people will ever be able to see past the black and white because we’re so inside of the “black and white” of it all.  So this is by no means an end-all/be-all post, but it’s a few thoughts I needed to get out of my head on the matter of what is happening right now.  It’s not that it hasn’t been happening before the murders of Tamir Rice, Eric Garner, Mike Brown and countless others.  It’s not to take away from the lives lost of individuals, young or old, from any other race or culture out there.  This is coming down to the simple facts of the matter.

Photo by: GIORDANO CIAMPINI from Torontoist

Photo by: GIORDANO CIAMPINI from Torontoist

The world consists of the good and bad despite your upbringing. I can only speak from my own experience as a black person growing up in Canada. Was it all bad? Of course not. Do I look back and realize why some things happened the way they did? I sure do.  Am I more aware of the injustices, prejudices and discrimination now that I’m an adult? 100%. People…the fact is, whether you want to believe it or not, whether you are like this or not, black people are not valued the same way as white people.  I wish I didn’t have to make such a blanketed statement, but there just isn’t enough time or words in this post to break it down any more.

Now, here are some things I need to point out:

Being black is not a weapon. Being black is not a crime. I mean, are we saying that because evil and bad things are associated with things that are dark in colour/nature, we’re going to use this mentality to dictate how we treat……..HUMANS? I mean, black people have done it to ourselves for years. People with lighter skin were and still are coveted more often than those who are darker. People who are darker are using lightening agents to achieve this for whatever reasons.  Light = good, dark = bad. C’mon, 2014, we’re better than this. Listen, I’ve dated interracially since I began dating. I’m not ashamed of it. I don’t think white men or latino men or aboriginal men are better than black men. I’ve dated black men. But I can tell you from my experience (and only my experience), when we’re getting to know each other and the music I dig, the fashion that gets me off, the sports I “stan” for…more often than not, these black men don’t necessarily relate. I don’t hold it against them, I don’t care. There are black men I’m friends with who love the same things I love, but I can assure you, they are not interested in me romantically. Do I hold THAT against them? NO! Why? Why can’t everyone like who they like despite race, religion, instilled childhood beliefs, blah blah blah. There is a difference between being interested in someone BECAUSE of the colour of their skin (curiosity, fetishism) & falling for someone who happens to be a different race. Intent is a huge things, folks and more people need to focus on this. It would solve a million issues from the get-go.

Standing up for black rights does not mean you are anti-white people in any way. There are those who take it to that extreme, and I’m not in that category. The same way there are many white people who don’t fall under the category of “racist.”  White does not equate to racist and I really wish some of the people fighting for the #BlackLivesMatter cause would refrain from infecting the movement with that hatred. It doesn’t help the cause; it doesn’t help anyone.

White privilege isn’t a myth. Many white people take offence to this term because it shines a spotlight on a life they may take for granted. There are a lot of white people who had hard lives growing up, so hearing the term “privilege” doesn’t sit right with them. How were they privileged when they were/are homeless, had abusive parents/spouses, dropped out of school, on welfare, etc? The only way I can try to explain this is if a black person had the same set of circumstances they would be looked upon as “ghetto” or automatically assumed to be criminals or bad people even if they’ve never done anything wrong. A watchful eye would always be around because “they must be up to no good.” Whereas when the person is white and they DO something illegal, there seems to be this underlying understanding : “They fell on hard times,” “they always meant well,” “they deserve a second chance,” “I never would’ve thought…”  That’s privilege. Not having to second guess your outfit when you leave the house because of how you might be treated is white privilege. Then realizing it doesn’t really matter what you wear WHEN you leave your home is white privilege. It just is. It’s just facts. And if that makes you feel weird or uneasy, THAT is the feeling we want you to have to help us bring equality to EVERYONE.

Guys, I fear for this world. It keeps me up at night. It seems everyone’s true colours (no pun intended) are coming out full force. I, for one, have unfriended/blocked people whom I thought were my friends. Not even for saying anything TO me but just what they’re putting out there in the world. If they disagree with something I feel so passionately about, then they can’t be here to support me. It’s…impossible.

There is a lot of good coming out of these protests and people organizing raising awareness to the inequality and injustices. People are tired. All people. That’s encouraging to see. But there’s a lot of work to be done. There’s a lot of educating to be done and lessons to be learned.  Everyone out there isn’t doing it for the greater good. There are disturbers of peace and vigilantes who are using their anger in a negative way. While I sometimes feel like I want to smash something because I’m going to be seen as a criminal anyway, I know that’s not the way to help the cause. For anyone.

These are a scattering of my thoughts. I needed to get some of it off my chest. I realize the people who are set in their ways, will immediately fly off the handle and not read the words I’m saying. I’m not accusing anyone of anything, I’m not saying that I’m jealous of your lives, I’m just saying this is the world we live in. And if you can’t see that….THAT is privilege.

I hope for so many solutions to be found in my lifetime & I hope the world keeps me alive long enough to see some of these happen.

#BlackLivesMatter to us and we just want them to matter to you too.

Might As Well Face It, You’re Allergic To Plans

Please press play:

I just have one question, which will subsequently be followed by several more, but WHY can’t y’all make a plan? I mean, seriously why is this a thing that can’t happen.

I am 33 years old and I don’t know if I’m going on a date tomorrow morning. I legitimately don’t know. Am I simple? Is my soft spot finally hard? Am I wired differently?

Here’s the text conversation (don’t even get me started on that, because I absolutely fear speaking on the phone until it comes to men. I want to hear your voice. I want you to call me so I can hear your excitement at the thought of spending time with me. YAS!):


Me: Hi! Are you free anytime soon?

Him: Hi! Hmm what did you have in mind?

Me: Haha! Whatever you want. When I asked you about the movie before, I thought you’d send a date you were free. But you didn’t. So that’s why I’m being proactive. I would like to see your face again if you’d like to see mine. And if not, then I absolutely understand and won’t bug you again.


*He sends a photo of what he’s doing, we small talk about a dresser I’ve been trying to build for weeks. Concludes with me sending him a photo of the finished dresser*


Him: Are you free in the daytime Friday? I could hang out then if you have time. Dresser looks fantastic! 

Me: I have Friday off but I’m seeing a movie with a friend in the afternoon.

Him: I’m talking morning anyhow 

Me: Alright, that works for me. I have to be at the theatre for 12:30 so the morning is fine.

Him: We could do brunch or spend no cash and just hang out someplace warmish…like a junk shop

Me: I like either/both ideas. Maybe junk shop then something warm to eat and drink after?


Me: Tomorrow: 9AM too early? Which junk shop will be privileged enough to receive our attention?

Him: There are a few together on Kingston Rd. East of the bottom of Warden. Might be a good bet.

Me: Sounds good.

And to qualify, my “sounds good.” I thought he would continue the conversation with actual details. I honestly did.

First of all, kudos to me because I’m cute as f*ck when I text. A man should be so lucky. I have personality, I have a little sass…I’m perfect.  Back to the question of the hour: Do I or do I not have a date? I mean, is it at 9AM? Do I just go to the intersection of Kingston Rd. & Warden Ave. tomorrow morning? Is there a name to the shop we’re going; maybe just for a more specific meeting place? Are these things I should spell out? I mean, I asked if 9AM was too early, was that too complicated? Should I have said:

“What address should I meet you at at 9AM? If not at 9AM, what time works for you? And please, don’t forget to send me the address of where you would like to meet….at the time that works best for you. Also, specify the exact time. Again…whatever works for you tomorrow morning but with focused detail on the time and the address, OR NAME…name works too, of the place at this intersection since you mentioned there are a few, I just want to clarify the one we’ll start with, if any….” I MEAN, DA FUQ??!?!?!?  Whaa? Guh? LsafdjeOVU%$R(*U43jk&^*#!?!??

GIF - beyonce-confused

The moral of this story is, I think singles today are allergic to making plans. There’s something about setting a date or scheduling when to meet that is too close to commitment. In this bleak time of hook-up culture, I’m just unimpressed. What’s old becomes new again, right? I would welcome the resurgence of some old-fashioned courting in society. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’ll sleep in tomorrow. Because I don’t know if I have a date.

How I Would Style: Dr. Mindy Lahiri featuring Stella & Dot

Mindy Lahiri

Paging Dr. Mindy Lahiri…………you’re about to get Bettykissed!

Tonight is the night Mindy, Danny & the entire gang delight us for 22 minutes in a brand-new episode of The Mindy Project. In honour of this, I’ve put together a very special post entitled:
How I Would Style: Dr. Mindy Lahiri featuring Stella & Dot
Screen Shot 2014-11-04 at 7.22.07 PM

I love Mindy’s style (fictional and IRL) because even if there were rules, no fuqs given.  She mixes patterns, textures, metals. She dresses her body well and doesn’t cower behind neutrals or monochromatic palettes.  So, here’s how I would style Dr. Mindy Lahiri if I ever had a chance.

We start with with a bold top. It’s a long-sleeved blouse with a Peter Pan collar, lace overlay and a scalloped hem. I’ve paired it with a retro-inspired floral midi skirt. I find this style of skirt absolutely perfect for any shape, size, height or level of fashion sense. You can be as simple or eccentric as possible. Not that it’s required but I always love a belt when I can fit one in; this is a faux leather skinny belt from Old Navy (don’t tell Mindy!!!). Her boots break the bank (she makes good money, she can do it). These are 3.1 Phillip Lim Ora over-the-knee leather boots in a camel colour.  Now let’s jack her up with the accessories!

Around her neck, we bring the Stella & Dot Coral Kay statement necklace, it pulls the accents from the skirt right out. Her arm party is comprised of the Inspiration bangle, Becca & Christina Link bracelet.  (All links for these items are below…I LOVE THE POP OF COLOUR!)

Anyway, the countdown is on. I’ll probably do this every time I’m excited for a TV show.  This means always. I’ll do this always.

Stella & Dot Items:

We’re Different

One of my favourite pages to follow on Facebook is called White Guys.  And before you jump to ridiculous conclusions about the content, please go to the page and see what it’s all about. These guys are going to change things and I’m all for it. They linked a post from Gawker entitled Lena Dunham’s Race Problem written by Rebecca Carroll. There are many things I agree with in this post and she outlines some questions I’ve had in my mind for a long time.  And not specifically about Lena Dunham, I’m one of few who isn’t particularly a fan of hers, but about race and it’s depiction right here, right now.

One thing I dislike about these conversations is the black-and-white of it all. We are not the only two races in this world and while you may see an article about Asian men who deserve leading roles, it seems the discussion is between all the white people of the world compared to the number of blacks on tv, in movies or media who are portrayed positively. It happens during fashion weeks around the world; someone, somewhere is just waiting in the shadows to count how many non-white faces are on the catwalks. I am not against racial diversity. OF COURSE I’d love everything to be even and equal and relatable but if I am watching a McQueen show and I don’t see a black model, I’m not enraged. What does the colour of a model’s skin have to do with the design and structure of a beautiful garment.  You can argue, “Are you telling me there weren’t any other models of colour who could’ve done what this white model is doing?”  Yes, there’s probably a bunch of them but as I’ve always said, intent should be the basis of any argument you have in this situation.  If you know people of colour were intentionally ousted for one reason or another, then yes, condemn them all!  But if that’s not the case, then hush and watch the pretty clothes nuh man!

If you haven’t realized yet, I’m black. And I feel the focus of a lot of arguments are not entirely where they should be.

Rebecca writes: “…if Dunham were to say to Remnick and Apatow, “Guys, you know what would be awesome? If we did a movie or an entire issue of a magazine or dedicated the whole New Yorker festival to conversations about centralizing racial representation in media,” they would likely listen, and that would be radical.”

Yes, this would be radical.  But do you know what the reality is, if Lena did this, people would take issue with it. “What does this privileged white woman know about racial representation in the media?” “This isn’t an accurate portrayal and who gives her the right to…”  Like, it will never be okay for a group of people. It just won’t.

In a world where everyone has a voice, and they want to make sure you motha-f*ckin’ hear it, this will be another thing on the laundry list of injustices. Now, here’s my loud voice, listen to it!

I have always been a black female. Always. Can you believe it?!?!??!  My life as a black female is different than other black females. And it’s sure as hell different than any other man or woman from any other race. If I hear we’re in a “post-racial era” one more time, I’ll scratch out my own eardrum. We will NEVER be out of it. The differences are what make us, they shouldn’t be what break us.

Going back to the Gawker post; Lena Dunham lived a different life than I did. I don’t expect her to relate. Could she be enlightened? Of course. We tell our stories and sometimes people learn something new and perspectives are changed.  There is no denying that as visible minorities in North America, we are taught a lot about how life works for white people. Now, just go along with me on this because I’m not about to bash caucasians, I’m just explaining something.

The history we’re taught in school (at least mine) is primarily about things that happened to white people, involving white people, were written by white people. Then, in February we had special lesson on Black History. And occasionally we’d touch on the Native lives that built this country.

I’m generalizing A LOT here but you must see my point. People who are not white, learn about the lives of white people and from that we learn to adapt our lives to fit in. We’re taught we have to work harder, be stronger, smarter and better to just be on the same level as a white person. THAT is a reality.  Do you know what it’s like getting a job or into a school solely based on filling the visible minority quota? Like, this is a thing I can’t believe people aren’t aware of. Still.

“Hey Bruce, we don’t have enough ethnic diversity here so keep an eye out for Jermajestys and Harpreets in those resumes. Let’s get up to code.”

We are a product of the world we’re raised in. I would never expect Lena Dunham to be vocal in the world of racial diversity; I’m not saying she shouldn’t or couldn’t be, I’m just saying her not doing so is not disappointing to me. Rebecca also mentions THA GAWD, Issa Rae (and if you don’t know who she is, you better do some damn research). She IS a fan of Lena Dunham and there’s nothing wrong with this. They’re two young women making names for themselves in the industry of their choice. The point is, a lot of you have never heard of her or seen the genius of The Misadventures of Awkward Black GirlLike Lena, Issa Rae creates, writes, acts, directs and produces. Her series is award-winning, she’s had development deals and yet, she hasn’t garnered the same excitement and fanship from the masses. Issa Rae writes what she knows, from her experiences and understanding of the world. Her perspective is unique to her even though people like me can relate.

I hope one day we’ll be able to see the differences and simply accept them without bitter conflict. Without bringing things down to our genetic makeup and ethnic backgrounds. You have lived in a way that isn’t the same as I’ve lived and that’s…okay. Let’s share our experience. Let’s learn from them. Not in an effort to be right, but seeing things from other points of view will only lead to a more enriched life.  If we don’t agree with each other, we don’t have to attempt to hurt each other with words. What good comes from this?

Listen, Lena…do you. I mean, you have been doing you, so keep on doing you. All I ask from society on a whole is to be open to all voices from everywhere. Not everything is about fame and social media presence but I promise you, there are some of the most interesting voices coming from the most unexpected places. If you shared those as much as you shared a photo of Lena’s new haircut, we all might shift toward a better tomorrow.

But I mean, you don’t have to listen to me…I’m just another black girl.

We (Photo by: Lippfoto)

Black people and their hoods; you just can’t take them seriously. (Photo by: Lippfoto)

Songs In The Key Of “A”ri-minor

You know that forever-walk between subway lines at Spadina station? And how there’s always some kind of musically-inclined busker at any given time of day? The violinist tonight was playing something in a minor chord and I almost LOST IT!

Damn, yo! Why you gotta be playing the melody of my feelings right now? The fact I may be living my own version of The Truman Show is beginning to seem less like paranoia and more like the realest reality. Danny Elfman just sitting somewhere scoring my life away because Randy Newman didn’t get “my brand.” He wasn’t right for this project.

Anyway, to make things that much more dramatic: I had a tear that wouldn’t dare tumble over my lower left lid. I just watched the saline swells rock back and forth as I trudged my way across the pedestrian walk.

The moral of this story: I need to get my headphones back on my ears where they belong. One crisp Whitney Houston mid-to-uptempo pop hit would’ve curbed this ridiculousness in its entirety.

So, Tuesday, don’t come to play, strive to win! I’m rooting for you. 🙏🙏🙏

JaBG - Betty Cooper will power

Betty’s Mantra

The Truth About “How Are You” For The Depressed

DISCLAIMER: I’ve had an incredibly tough few weeks so I figured this was a good time to schedule this post

This is a post painted in the broadest strokes with the most luxurious brush.

You don’t give a damn about how I am. You don’t. And I’d respect you more if you didn’t ask at all. Let me explain…

I don’t lie. I don’t sugarcoat. I don’t pussyfoot. I don’t say anything I don’t mean. If you cut your hair, and I don’t like it, I won’t join in with the chorus of sheep exclaiming “what a change!” or “I can’t believe you did it!”  Do you see how none of those are compliments? That’s because you look stupid and we don’t know why you thought the “Kate Gosselin” was for you. Absolutely no one understands.  But instead of filling the empty space of your hairdressing mental lapse with awkward exclamations of non-positivity, I will continue to read my book. Or eat my snack. Or walk away. I never want to intentionally hurt anyone’s feelings so I’m not going to pretend like your Sonic the Hedgehog chic is on point.

Now, if your frost-tipped head approaches me and pointedly asks, “What do you think?” Like, the “how are you” question I’m about to explain, you need to be ready for the truth. “I don’t like it and I don’t know why you’d make this decision. Who are your friends and how did they let this happen?” That’s for starters.

NOW, back to the conversation at hand.  The dreaded “how are you.”

GIF - Liz Lemon

I’m rarely fine. I’m rarely ‘doing well’ unless you caught me after a breath-stealing sip of a particularly cold, carbonated beverage OR a freshly fried pile of bacon I’ve let tumble gingerly onto a Bounty’d covered dinner plate drizzled with syrup.  These are actually two of the ONLY times, you’ll get a universal thumbs up on the how-I’m-feeling-in-life scale.  And even that is rocky because your question interrupted the flow of flavours and fizz, so I may instantly hate you forever. I may counter your question with one of my own, “How dare you?”

In general, if I’m asked how I am, I will answer honestly with how I am. Because that’s how words work.

Humans: “Good morning, how’s it going?”

Me: *shrug with slight smile to acknowledge I heard them but don’t care to elaborate* (BECAUSE I KNOW THEY DON’T WANT THE TRUTH AND I AM TRYING TO SPARE FEELINGS)

Humans: “Ah! Good weekend then, eh?”

Me: “Nope.”

Humans: *head tilt* “That’s awesome!” 

WHAT?! You weren’t even listening to the conversation YOU started.  My other favourite situation is:

Humans: “Good morning, how’s it going?”

Me: *shrug with smile…blah blah blah*

Humans: “Ah! Good weekend then, eh?”

Me: “Nope.”

Humans: *sputter sputter* Automatically recoils and takes offence.

Somehow, I should’ve psychically realized they didn’t want to know how my weekend actually was. They just wanted to make idle chit chat OR they wanted me to ask them how THEIR weekend was, which I rarely do because I don’t care. I honestly don’t. I’m not trying to be rude, but if you went to your cottage/got a manicure with your mom/were proposed to/fell down a well…unless we’re family (this includes my closest friends), there is no less I could care. I have a black heart and you have to be hella important to work your way in.  But I digress…

I could be less abrasive; that’s not lost on me but I. don’t. care. At least not at this point of my life, I just want to live my life and listen to my music and eat my food and try to blend in……to the walls so you LEAVE ME ALONE.  My mood doesn’t change. I answer the same way, every time, every day of every week so stop being surprised when I’m still not “o.k.”

So if you want to know how a depressed person is and you ask them and they tell you the truth, “I stayed in bed all weekend because the weight of the world has taken up residence on my shoulders with no immediate plans to vacate despite my many gentle requests…” We aren’t saying these things as a cry for help or to get attention or make you uncomfortable, we’re simply answering the question. Because we’re unfeeling. Literally void of emotion so it doesn’t sound dramatic to us; it’s life.

If your only goal is to pass time while you settle in for the work day/forced to stand next to me on public transportation because we happened to bump into each other in the line to the bus and you see I’m not removing my ear buds, then just tell me about your weekend, let me smile in silence and let’s both agree that’s enough. We’re works in progress, just give us some time……to dethaw.

… week will be better.



Laugh at the piles of riches you want, not at the empty account you have.

Laugh at the piles of riches you want, not at the empty account you have.

I’m writing it for myself, then I’ll worry about the business of this. Its working title is, 30-Something: Ways To Date. Some of the stories you’ve heard before, some are new because terrible dates are omnipresent. But I promise to give you your life when you read them.  I’ve pulled from many of my Single Blink posts so those are no longer available, but I will re-post blurbs from some of my favourites because I’m massaging the stories to round out chapters.

SPEAKING OF CHAPTERS, the titles include but are not limited to:

  • The Apple Juice Was Only A Dollar
  • I Should’ve Known It Was Over When He Turned Off Nina Simone
  • I Will Always Choose Wrong
  • Where’s Your Front Tooth?
  • My Bad: I Was Wrong For Assuming Eight Months Was A Relationship

Exciting stuff from the JaBG camp! And no, this isn’t a joke – I’m writing this, for sure.