Archive | August, 2014

Let There Be Passion

23 Aug

Here’s a question I’ve been asking myself for quite some time now: What sparks passion between two people?

For me, in my life, it’s never really been about external appearance. That isn’t to say that I don’t care about a man’s looks at all, but rather that I don’t really have a type, and can find myself drawn to almost any type of look as long as there’s ‘the spark’. The spark is difficult to explain, but for the sake of science, I’m going to try. So after a lot of consideration, here they are, the top 5 qualities in a man that attract me:

1. Men I am drawn to are confident. It can be any kind of confidence, either the guy’s good looking and he knows it, or he’s smart and he knows it, or he’s a good flirt and he had me at hello and he knows it. It doesn’t really matter what he’s confident about, but basically he knows he’s a catch. There is a limit of course, because over-confidence is a definite turn off.

2. A man I’m attracted knows what he wants, and it’s me. It’s definitely a huge turn on when a man doesn’t linger or hesitate, but shows his interest – loud and clear.

3. This one is probably evolutionary. In terms of looks, I’m attracted to a healthy looking man. Not too skinny, not to robust, energetic, easygoing, if he’s into any form of sports that’s a bonus, if he likes good food (not processed junk) that’s a bonus. He better not smoke and he better have a healthy sex drive.

4. Sensitive, but not melodramatic. This guy will totally catch on if I’m having an off day. He’s sensitive enough to notice when we’re making out and I’m not really into it. He might ask if I’m ok or let me know that if I want to talk, he’s there. But unless I initiate a conversation, he’s not going to make an issue out of me being a little moody. Instead, he’ll touch me in all the right places to help me forget about everything.

5. Finally, and this is maybe one of the most important points, I’m attracted to men who are generally happy, who like their lives and feel good about themselves and their situation. It doesn’t really matter what they do for a living, how much money they make, what their goals are or what they’ve achieved. If it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me.


The Single Mom’s Ark

22 Aug

In this dream, I was at the school where I teach, and very heavy rain was falling.

My school was not in the building where it is in real life, it was a giant farmhouse. I was working on something in the basement with my principal and some other teachers, when the place began to get flooded. Water was coming in from everywhere and the floors and carpeting were drenched within seconds. Somehow, none of us was surprised. Heavy rain had been falling for days, maybe weeks, without stopping for a second. We knew a flood was coming. And we knew, somehow, that it meant the end of us. Principal looked at us with a face that meant, sometimes it’s just the end, and you have to accept it. Everyone had pretty much made peace with death.

I did too for a minute, but then I saw him. Standing on the steps – my beautiful son. And I knew I couldn’t give up.

The first thing I did was yell at everyone, including Principal, to get out of the basement. We got to the main floor of the house and I remembered I had seen a water tower somewhere. That was plan A, to climb the water tower and wait there, maybe the storm would end.

But on the way to the tower I had a better idea. I would build an ark. And if I couldn’t manage that, then at least a raft. All the other teachers, the principal, they would all help. We’d manage together. But we needed tools. So bravely I went back to the house and into the flooded basement, looking for whatever I could find, screwdrivers, a hammer, a couple of candles and matches. I couldn’t get everything I needed, but I made do with what I could find quickly and fled.

As I walked towards the water tower where we would be spending the night, I thought to myself that we were all going to be OK, and that it would be thanks to me. Building an ark, surviving a flood, it’s been done before. No reason it couldn’t be done again.


Crying Over an Old Photo

16 Aug

I have it in my old email account, the one that I’ve shut down long ago. It dates around February 2013, eighteen months ago. It’s a selfie of us, at the park and it’s the only one I have of him.

SG is sitting behind me, and I am leaning back against him. I can still feel the warmth of his arms wrapped around me. His face is in my hair, and he’s kissing the top of my head. His long auburn curls are a jumble around us, hiding his face, so all you can see is a bit of his forehead and his long lashes over closed eyelids.

And you can see me, looking straight at the camera. I’d taken my glasses off. I’m smiling, the kind of smile that comes from within, the kind you cannot fake, that means that you’re trully content.

I remember that gray sweatshirt, the one with the hood that he wore on laid back days, like that one at the park. I’d gotten off work early and picked him up. We went to that spot I used to go to with friends to talk when I was 19 and my heart was still unbroken. We climbed up the wooden ladder to where the tall slide is. No one was there, so we just sat at the top, and he held me, and we talked for a long time.

Sometimes, out of anger or frustration, I think that what I had with SG wasn’t real. I tell myself he was in it for the sex, or for the adventure of being with an older woman. I tell myself that he didn’t actually love me. But pictures cannot lie.

Looking at this one, now, I know what we had. And I wonder if I will ever have it again.

And then I cry… And listen to this.