It’s Still Progress


Finally. I think I’ve gotten over the loss of my husband, to be clear, I lost him to another person, not death. I guess I could have said “I’ve gotten over my ‘divorce” but there is something shameful that comes over me when I say the D- word. It’s a reminder of another broken dream – one that may not have been mine to begin with. For me, the feelings that come with breaking another’s heart are harder than feeling my own heart break.

“Ju breaking my hart” is all me and my dumb and dumber sisters hear from our parents. And in spite of being 40-ish, gracefully single…..All of us be downloading Tinder, trying to get skinny, and asking any man who looks in our direction to date…Like fuck, it’s desperation that ain’t even ours. Thanks mom. Thanks dad. Those fuckers would prolly say ‘You’re welcome.”

Right, so back to being over my marriage being done (Still can’t say the word, “divorce.”), the better part of the last decade has typically been me slipping into a coma this time of year. Haunted by memories of wedding anniversaries, birthdays etc. Raise your hands if you fall in the fall, ’cause i always do.

Truth is, I think I chose to feel sad. In some way, I felt that holding onto to some degree of pain kept me accountable, helped me avoid making the same mistakes. Or maybe hanging onto the sadness kept any chance of committed relationships at bay. Sure I had Captain Goodtimes, but as in love with him I was, I was preserving myself big time. By the way, I know you’re reading this. In fact I know all a million of you men whom I’ve enchanted over the last decade are reading this; Here it is: the reason why I was a distant b.

I’ve been feeling pretty damn alright for the most part and so much lighter than usual this time of year. Guess I’ve served my time in the prison of guilt and shame, a 10 year sentence served. 

I’m still physically exhausted and only wake to the thought of going back to bed. But fucking A, It’s still progress.










In the end, sometimes dreams are all you got


Mission, unaccomplished. I did not get a date for Cousin J’s wedding. I repeat, I did not get a date for cousin J’s wedding. Truth is, what’s meant to be is meant to be. If all signs are pointing one way, can’t not go in that direction. Hate counterflow, unless it’s in relation to traffic.

0 for 6 invites.

INVITE 1 – Was about to ask a former mayor because why not make my colleagues happy and root for this brown Cinderella.

INVITE 2 – Moved onto inviting the friend I’ve secretly loved for twenty plus years. He declined but oh, how I dream of the ways he effortlessly fits into my life.

INVITE 3 -Went on to ask an ex, knowing full well he would say no but asked anyway because I liked the lack of odds.

INVITE 4 – Grabbed my lady balls and invited a random stranger @TallPaul who is my IG buddy now. Seriously though, when I’m depleted, I lay my head down on the table/desk and pull up my Insta feed to see what this next level gorgeouso is up to. What can I say, I like pretty things.

INVITE 5- Whilst in Toronto, I asked the blind date I met through one of my dad’s old school besties. He would have basically been a giant gift for my dad. “Look papa, I got another husband. He’s cute and Indian like the last one…Do you love me now?”

INVITE 6- And of course asking basketball star @ rick fox via IG …. because I was feeling  hella inspired that day. And as Gretzky says, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.

0 for 6 invites

Dateless. Sure I was the middle aged aunty at the bar, sizing up all the men, family included.

Am I disappointed for another wish gone unfulfilled? Nah, because for me, the experience was worth way more than the net zero outcome. I have a million wishes, so what if half a dozen don’t come true. It’s not like I’m gonna stop wishing or dreaming. Often, this is all I have…but more importantly, I know the universe has a queue, eventually my turn will come.

Until the next….





Here I go again – In love with a friend


I think of how far our relationship has deepened since we stopped seeing each other after dark

Don’t get me wrong I love where we are now. The ease and comfort of our most natural selves. Chatting freely, openly, real talky talk. It’s so easy. Genuine and authentic intimacy that comes with friendship.


I’m starting to dream about what its like for you to come home to me everyday. Hearing keys jingle at the door, running up to greet you. I know, like a dog, but truly that’s what I look like in love. Sure I break promises left and right but that ain’t nothing to do with love. Behaviour is a brain thang. Love is matter of the heart.

I fantasize about chronicling my day for you, listening to you about yours. The ritual good-morning and good-night kiss. Assurance in knowing you’ll be there for me day to night.


I know better. Millions of articles have been published about what men want and when I piece the clues you send and cross check against the literature…the answer is pretty clear.


Why is my heart feeling like something has changed for you?

Or am I just projecting my feelings for comfort and security onto the idea of being with you?

Is my heart being an asshole?


Do I ask you these questions or do I continue to ask Alexa.

Do I stay in the safe zone, harbour the feelings and wait for them to fade like they have in the past?

Alexa. Tell me.





























I know, a bona fide crazy, sexy cool b.  me. giphy-2.gif







Edge of Reason



I frequently shift my course of action; with no real reason other than, “well, I just wasn’t feeling it.”

It’s exhausting for others; but for me, not so much. I’m hardwired to be haywire. I often wonder how people remain steadfast living the lives the’ve chosen. With so many options out there, I’m curious as to how they stay committed to live each day like their last, literally, the last being yesterday.

At the apex of my emotional chaos, I used to think I was a saboteur. I  used to think I purposely fucked things up by dee-touring so close to the finish line. For instance, I’ve studied the following: social work, philosophy, law, urban planning, counselling and adult education. But have I practiced any of them for a minute? The variety doesn’t stop here…I’ve been a wife, I’ve been single and casually dating, I’ve been single, I’ve been a side piece…again, nothing lasts for more than a minute. I know, why do I have to be so complicated? Hazards of being open 24/7.

In my darkest days and the majority of my life, I thought I was flawed. Marked by indecision, my inability to choose one direction was a nightmare for those who conditionally loved me. But now being a little less self-loathing, and accepting of why I did the things I did, I realize I’m not damaged. Sure, previous actions have served up a divorce, pink slips and a side of bankruptcy. But in the end, each experience has provided insight and wisdom to shed light on where I’m going next. I don’t really know where, and for all we know, i’ll be repeating the same experiences/mistakes. Yep, Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results.

Without sounding suicidal, I’d be okay if I died today. I’m good because I know I’ve lived a pretty interesting life rich with experience. I’ve failed, I’ve fallen and I’ve lost more times than I’ve succeeded but I know I’m not alone here though. I have a couple of ‘loser’ friends who meet once a week at something we call ‘losers anonymous.’ Truth be told though, we may not be ‘winning’ whatever that means to our severest critics,  but mark my words….what hasn’t killed us has undoubtedly made us stronger.

So here I am, smoking a cigarette from an unopened pack I found six months ago on the street. I AM big-time channeling Carrie Bradshaw right now and am pondering the basic needs of intimacy, stability and security. Never thought I’d entertain these notions but I have to confess, I’m tired of being alone. Coming home to dead plants talking to dust bunnies, as fulfilling as it has been, ain’t enough no more. I think I want comfort and assurance. Or maybe I’m just personifying the highlighted astrological sign of the month – Cancers, those adorable comfort seeking monsters.

Who knows. All I know is I’ve accepted my life as being on the edge of reason. And for what it’s worth, in spite of lying in the dirt because of another miscalculation or misstep, I did it for the experience and for me, that’s my reason.














Love Life – It Ain’t so Bad


I was telling my office sidekick jt about a recent day-job I applied for. Told him it was time for me to get serious and start ‘acting my age’. He lost it. Me talking about becoming a normal ‘responsible’ person was ludicrous for him to process. He was like “yo’ tita (aunty in tagalog), you about two decades too late to have this discussion with yourself. You are who you are, in all your…glory.”

Being unserious isn’t a recent affliction. I’ve had trouble being serious for decades. I remember twenty years ago training to be a volunteer crisis line operator. I had to withdraw my application because I couldn’t get through the role-playing exercises.

Someone in fake distress calling me.

Me telling the fake crisis sufferer to wait until I get there…

so we could kill ourselves together.

It wasn’t a good look for the crisis-line.

I remember my cousin RJ, recalling a role playing exercise while she was working at a bank. In her simulation, she was flirting with the colleague playing cute bank robber; asking him to go for dinner upon completion.

It’s pretty evident my cousin and I share similar genetic material…our moms are sisters. Very seldom do I use this word bc the basic bitches of 2015 ruined it, but I am #blessed to be surrounded by ridiculous banshees. The boy cousins are pretty alright I guess.. But the females in my family; I have no words to describe, I got words for everything.

I have to think about the magic these ladies bring to me at this sad time. A couple of weeks ago, my makeup bag was taken from the gym. Make up can be replaced, but that Satin pouch had outlived all my relationships put together. Can’t get finer than designer  (gotta trademark if it ain’t already intellectually claimed.

Actually, it’s been a bad year for me and Chanel and well, for Chanel and Chanel as well. Just the other day, I was about to put on my CC aviators when the left lens jumped to its death down the elevator shaft. Straight deep fucking dive into the abyss. Fuck I hate elevators, although the next day, the elevator did make for a couple of interesting exchanges with a couple of members of the hot engineers association. But was that enough to help me get over Chanel?

Who knows. Anyhow, I gotta keep my eye on the prize and refocus my efforts on getting a hot date for cousin J’s wedding. Oh tall, handsome one whom destiny chooses for me….who are you and when will you find me. Imma Rick Fox… is it you?


Shut up….y’all know you want this for me. Dedicated to a true lover of life, my cousin J.






open source data club – let our failures be your guide


I wonder if I will ever stop caring about how I look. Like yesterday, I discovered that I misplaced/lost my makeup bag. I know you know this face is not a wash and go kinda deal and that I’m a painted lady.

Because I put my problems on blast, anyone who made eye-contact with me was told by me that I had misplaced by makeup bag. I think at one point I even discussed the offer of a reward for safe return. For me, losing these tools are tragic because one, they make me feel pretty, two, they cost a small fortune and three, they give me a reason to talk to people.

This public disclosure made me think of two of my favourite gals: my bestie kv and my parallel life-twin lp. We are constantly chatting with all and telling the world our problems: our data is up for anyone to source. Generally through our revelations of soul, we manage to have the most insightful and meaningful conversations. Our trainwreck lives make us popular.

I think of c, my fwb of 2017. Also a very open, chatty person. The noteworthy thing about this chatty dude was how clear he was about his disinterest in me. I’d be biting into a slice when suddenly he’d start listing all the ways we were incompatible. Like fuck bro, I’m in the room, and at the very least, let me eat my fifth slice before you gutpunch me with all your reasons for us not working. He was so afraid I’d fall in love and would bring it up every other moment. It’d be the middle of the day, I’d be with Soph when I’d see a text like, “I’m nervous you’re going to get attached” flash across my screen. My response was usually: “Trust your instincts. I’m an obsessive stalker.”

He was not wrong. I did fall in love. However, it was not with him…but rather with feelings of companionship, communication and comfort. Too bad he blocked me from social media. Oh right, he’s trusting his instincts about me being an obsessive stalker.

Seriously though, I think about why people like me, kv, lp are addicted to human interaction and why we are an open source data club. The info we hold, in spite of being near and dear to our hearts, is spread freely, with no real fear. Like are we compensating for shitty childhoods or are we serving something greater than ourselves? I mean in a world where everyone is on guard, there is something weirdly attractive about people who don’t give a shit about their failures or shortcomings and can make light of it. (Ooh, someone remind me to reach out to #Fuckup nightsToronto to start a #Fuckup nights in Vancouver. I think it could be big if it isn’t here already).

Okay then, now that I don’t have all my cosmetics, I have to get 13 hours of sleep instead of 11 to look fresh-faced. Also maybe meeting a handsome stranger/not so stranger for drinks tomorrow so my sleep game needs to be tight. So I bid you fuckers farewell.

Until the next time.







You tell me


For those of you who follow me on the gram, FB, interact with me irl, you know I just got back from Mexico City and can’t shut my trap about how awesome of a place it is. Ah, isn’t ironic. Five years ago, I boycotted Mexico and stopped driving Volkswagen because it was the land of husband stealers. Now…I will jump over the wall into Mexico any time.

I was blown away by the magnificence of the city: public space, engineering, architecture, social interactions. Sooooo much for my large eyeballs to take in. CDMX also happens to be one of my tenured crushes favourite cities….so there’s that.

Oh my gosh, maybe one day we will discuss and look like dis.


Sigh, dreams:)

My fabulous hosts made the trip though. Low key primo-hermano ahai and his kick-ass I

I also had amazing hosts. My primo-hermano cousin ahai and his kick ass partner lh. These two showed me the time of times. From the British Ambassador’s crib, the junior US marine, and the senior German officer vying for my bod, the invitation to a wedding in Alaska, hands down: Best Vacay. The Pyramids were cool too.

A-hai and I grew up together and he’s the closest thing to a big brother. He questions my DNA and mocks me for all the tings. For instance, I showed him a pic of influencer TallPaul, the aesthetically appealing local influencer I asked to Cousin J’s wedding. Upon review of TallPaul’s pic, good ol’ primo-hermano says “I sorta feel he is out of your league. I also feel you should get your eyes checked if you think you’re as attractive as him.” Our dynamic is solid gold. So then I tell him how I was gonna get two of my gems sh and lw to create dating profiles (each profile would have a picture of me and the respective gem, so sh and me; and lw and me). Each would vet all the expressions of interest. To this A-hai says, “you’re friends are younger and hotter than you, bad idea.”

So this got me thinking, a) maybe I don’t solicit a date, b) maybe I go as the alone lady I brand myself to be, c) maybe I ask the US marine to come as a quid pro quo gesture, he come to Calgary, I go to Anchorage or d) stay home and be ugly.

What’s a girl/grown-assed lady to do? You tell me. I know A-hai’s answer, it’s d. Definitely d.