90 Days to a Toronto Winter

(A bullet form short story...sort of)

“The best way to get over a woman is to turn her into literature.”
 -Henry Miller

Day 80
Actions speak louder than words.

Day 72
People always say that summer is the best times in Toronto. I half agree. Summer is definitely the best season. The plethora of things to do in the city during the summer are incomparable but as soon as Labour Day passes, Toronto people treat each day like its their last chance for romance. It's as if the lack of things to do in the cold forces the need in people to search that much harder for someone to keep warm with during the long winter months.

Day 73 9/10
I laid in bed beside her. I looked at her for awhile. She was beautiful in her sleep. I quietly said my goodbye and made my way out. This time, I didn't leave a "post-it" note.

Day 90
I wanted to see her off. Drive her to the airport. Park my car. Carry her luggage to check-in. Hug her. Kiss her. Tell her I'll miss her while she's gone. Give her the mix CD I'd spent the last two weeks putting together. Watch her walk away. Text her something cute and ridiculous the second I got back into my car. Wait for her to text me as soon as her flight safely landed. I wanted to do all these things but I couldn't. She chose to leave with someone else.

Day 54
I'm continually fearful of people that fall in love fast. They're usually the same people that fall out of love with the same expedient effortless grace.

Day 2
I spoke to a good friend about her. I told him how we met. How we were introduced. How I came with another girl and how she came with another guy. How we ended up talking to each other most of the night. How we connected. How she filled out her jeans. How excited I was at the possibility of getting to know her. How cute and interesting she was. How at the end of the night I mustered up enough courage to ask for her number. How she said she couldn't take it because she was actually seeing someone. How disappointed I felt. How I still gave her mine. How I said it be cool to be just friends with her anyways.

He told me she wouldn't call.

Day 34
Things to do #1 Rivoli

We sat together on the same side of the table which I never do. Super cheese. She took pictures of the two of us. She kissed me on the cheek in most of them. I went to work the next morning while she was still sleeping. I left a "post-it" note on her fridge with a happy face and the words “I miss you already” written on it.

Day 52
She looked at me and said, “Im happy with you”.

Day 5
She didn't call but she texted me. She asked me for my Facebook. She said it be nice to keep in touch since we know the same people.

Day 6-10
During the day we texted each other back and forth aimlessly. Almost every message ended with some cheesy icon. Mostly smiley faces.
At nights we talked through computer screens. Almost every conversation ended with some cheesy icon. Mostly smiley faces.
It's always that much more easier to open up to a person when you're typing instead of actually talking. Inhibitions for one reason or another are lost through internet connections. Modern Romance.

Day 11
We went out with a mutual friend. Safety net. The three of us went out for drinks at a patio on Queen West. At the end of the night she drove us back to our respective places. She decided to drop me off last. We ended up parked just outside my place talking till the sun came up.

Day 12
I was surprised she called. She was suppose to work but she took the day off. She asked me what I was doing for the day. I had a lot of work but I responded by saying “absolutely nothing, do you want to do something?”

Day 13
I woke up in her bed beside her. She drank a little too much the night before. I assured her nothing really happened but she still had a deep look of regret on her face.

Day 14
I texted her hi and she texted back, “Stop flirting with me I'm with someone and we're just friends.”
I said “ok”. She called and said “hi” like nothing had happened.

Day 15-19
We saw each other everyday. We were together till the days turned into nights. And we talked on the phone till the nights turned into days.

Day 70
Everything about her was disarming. The walls came down.

Day 20
She was coming to my place to show me the cloths she had bought specifically to wear to a party I was hosting the following night. I think she likes me and I was really starting to like her. She got to my place an hour later. I was about to lay my cards on the table and tell her I liked her when her phone rang. Her tone changed and she took the call in the other room. It was probably her boyfriend. It wasn't. It was her date to my party that she had planned to leave her current boyfriend for.

Day 21
She pulled me aside in the middle of the party, took me to a corner and said, “I know I said we're just friends but I like you.”

Day 22
I woke up beside her. For the second time. This time she didn't have a look of regret. I leaned into kiss her. She stopped me and said “I still have a boyfriend lets wait till I sort it out. I don't want to start off the wrong way.”

Day 23-26
I stayed over her place the next couple of nights and unfortunately routinely had to leave for work before she could get up. I regularly left "post-it" notes to compensate for my mandatory early departure. Every note had something different written on them, usually some corny but heart felt words. She would randomly find each note during the course of her day. By the end of the third night she officially no longer had a boyfriend.

Day 27
She made a list of things for us to do before the Winter came.

Day 28
We sat on the curb of the busy city street eating our desserts. It was a nice semi breezy night. People passed us by pretending not to stare while we laughed and stupidly fed each other Oreo flavoured chocolate cake. There were pieces of the cake smudged on the side of her mouth. I cleaned it off and simultaneously kissed her. Afterwards we both smiled and amiably looked at each other. I didn't have the need to say anything but she did.

“Lorenzo, I like you but I don't wanna rush into anything.”

Day 30
I woke up in her bed beside her. We rushed into things. She had a look of deep regret on her face. For the second time.

Day 31
I can't shake her look from my mind. A million things ran through my head. Did she regret breaking up with her boyfriend? Did she change her mind about me? Was it a mistake? Did we not connect physically? All my insecurities were spotlighted.

See also: Bad kissing breath
See also: Not big enough
See also: Lacking abdominal muscles

Day 32
I asked her about the other night, if she had regrets. I wanted her to say no. Instead she hesitated. My heart stopped. I interjected before she could answer. I played off her pause for my own and suggested we should just be friends. I wanted her to disagree instead she responded that she had to think and that she'd call me back tomorrow.

Day 33
She agreed.

Day 35
She asked me to keep my eyes shut. She grabbed my hand and said “do you trust me?”. I did. She led me to her secret spot that over looked the city. We got there and talked for hours. There was a moment of silence. I leaned into kiss her. She pulled away with a look of confusion and said, “What are you doing? We decided. We're better off as friends.

Day 36-40
I played it cool with just being friends but secretly I was disappointed.

Day 41
She kept glancing back at me from across the bar while I talked to another girl. I pretended I didn't notice. Other girls kept texting me through out the night. She noticed and gave me a pseudo smile. She looked good. Friendship was not a legitimate option. Her friend came over to talk me while she was standing next to me. Her friend flirted a little. She didn't look impressed. I took matters into my own hands. I texted her, “I miss you. Do friends cuddle?”. Her phone beeped. She looked down, read my text and smiled. She mischievously texted back, “Special friends do.”

Day 42-51
We cuddled. Among other things. As special friends.

Day 53
Things to do #2 Wine and Cheese show

It was 4 in the a.m. She was a little tipsy. I'd been drinking as well but I felt completely sober. We stopped off at the drug store for a box of tampons. When we got to the register to pay, she struggled to find her wallet in her purse. She had a million things in there. The woman behind the register looked at us annoyed. To alleviate the tension between us and the cashier, I paid for her box of tampons. She looked up at me and smiled at my random gesture. We walked back to my car. She's still looking at me with that goofy half drunk smile. I smiled back. We drove off in comfortable silence occasionally glancing at each other to smile. We got to her place. I sat on the couch. She sat beside me, still smiling. I smiled back and playfully said, “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

She answered, “Lorenzo, I love you”.

Day 55-67
It always took me at least three attempts at a goodbye to leave her place in the mornings.

Day 68
Things to do #3 Picnic at the Beach

We got to the beach at 12 in the morning with a bottle of wine and stayed until the sun rose.

Day 69
I loved how there wasn't a day she didn't get the hiccups. How she always made stupid faces. How they effortlessly made me laugh. How her eyes regularly changed colour. How caring she was.

See also: Her accent
See also: Her smile
See also: Her scent

Day 71
She was leaving for Africa in a week. She planned the trip before we even met. I intended to drive her and pick her up from the airport. I made her a mix cd. I was going to miss her.

Day 73
She told me daily she loved me.

Day 73 1/2
I hate commitment. It freaks me out but she was beginning to render me defenceless with her uncompromising “love is all you need” attitude towards life. When most people in the city treat anything remotely resemblant of emotions like the black plague she was completely open. Willing to drop “L-bombs” minute to minute with no anticipated or expected verbal compensation. I subtly tested the waters and indirectly asked her to be my girl. To my surprised confusion, she directly and unmistakeably said no. She told me she didn't want a relationship and that she still wanted to do “things” with other people. Reality unmasked.

I guess love isn't all you need. Maybe she meant love in the hippie Woodstock love as many people as you can sense of the word. My mistake. I should have clarified.

Day 74-76
We didn't talk. Not even a day later, she did “things” with other people.

Day 77
Things to do #4 Niagara Falls

She called me. I didn't answer. We didn't go.

Day 78
Things to do #5 Drive-in Movie
She texted me. I didn't answer. We didn't go.

Day 79
She called me over and over and left a message saying if I didn't pick up she was going to just show up at my door. I answered. She told me she thought about me while she did “things” with other people. I told her I didn't give a fuck. She told me she wanted to marry me one day and that she loved me. I laughed despicably and said, “Stop telling me you love me. You don't love me. You barely know me. You can't whole heartedly love someone and sleep with some one else”

Day 81
I hated how she had no concept of time. How she always had me waiting for her. How any time I did anything that disagreed with her she would say, “turn off”. How everyone else's opinion mattered more to her than mine.

See also: Her constant complaining
See also: Her “only child” syndrome
See also: Her big toe

Day 82
She texted me justifying what she did and professing her love. I texted her back saying, “no worries. I fucked someone else too”. I lied.

Day 83
She didn't write back. Hypocrite. I deleted her number from my phone.

Day 84
She left for Africa

Day 85
I bought a tub of ice cream and a bag of sour cream flavoured Ruffles. Over eating makes me feel better.

Day 86-89
I laid in my bed staring at the pictures on my wall while Carla Bruni's “Quelqu'un m'a dit” played in the background. It's not all about feelings, it also has to do with timing. Looks like it's going to be one long cold Winter.

I had the song on repeat.

Day 1
Some meetings are kismet. Some meetings are “meant to be”. Some make you feel like you've been waiting for this moment your entire life. And some just pass by with no second thought. It's all a matter of perspective. For me this moment was memorable. For her it was a “passer by-er”.

Monday Mornings - Story #6

Monday 9:00 a.m. April 17

My morning had just started but my night had just ended. I shouldn't have stayed out all night. I'm on less than four hours sleep and I found myself trapped in a small room decorated by projection screens and whiteboards. The room reeked of the smell of six figure salaries and cheating husbands. I was surrounded by grown men wearing suits that inexcusably needed the hand of a good tailor. These are my would be mentors. After discussing “handicaps” and the other night's survivor episode we all made our way to our designated places.

I presented my work first. I had mastered the art of Spread Sheets. I can make anything look professional if you gave me an hour on Microsoft Excel. It's probably why I still work here. Half an hour into my presentation and I drastically required another shot of expresso or at least a cup of coffee to keep me going. I'm half awake and as the meeting progresses its becoming more and more apparent to everyone in the room that outside of my spreadsheets I am in fact, unprepared. I need an excuse. During the break, I commented to a co-worker that I was feeling under the weather and it was the reason why I looked the way I did. I had bags underneath my eyes, my face was colorless, my hair uncombed and my white Ralph Lauren shirt was completely wrinkled. I think she bought it and word started to spread. My active nightlife has been masked by my poor excuses and fine spreadsheet work. Disaster avoided.

A couple of hours later and the meeting was on its final leg. My boss, who constantly dumped all his work on me and significantly made more money was now on the podium. He stood in front of the projection screen wearing his typical Monday black and white stripped tie. He had a tie for every day of the work week. He also had an ulcer and a fat wife. I was now on my third cup of coffee and he began reciting my first year economics' text book. The higher you climb up the corporate ladder, the more what you studied in university starts to directly apply to your job. Your job starts to become a career and your career starts to become your life. Sooner or later your priorities shift and you find yourself in Starbucks on a first name basis with a cashier who you secretly yearn for, ordering coffee imported from a country you've never even visited. You start to spend your nights raising children you can't relate to and not having sex with a woman you vowed to love through sickness and health. You spend weekends playing a game you can't stand (golf) just to get away from a life you regret. You spend the majority of your time in front of a computer emailing co-workers about the "latest quarterly figures" while snacking on a snack that contains "0 trans fat" just to feel a false sense of control. Welcome to the next 40 years of my life.

This week's meeting was specifically dedicated to the advancement of the company. We had grown twenty-five percent each year for the last three years. The numbers were phenomenal and it was the obvious reason why the firm had been voted best in Canada for the last three years. Several Power Point presentations with pictures and elaborate graphs were made. Colorful, extravagant, bounded and laminated reports were handed out. Future financial compensations were promised. Everyone looked happy. People even clapped. But honestly that profit will be spent on another brand new Beemer or an expensive piece of jewelry for the firm's Chief Executive's wife as a form of severance for his “slip up” with his administrative assistant during last year's company Christmas party. None of us are getting that raise. Whether the company makes or loses a million it doesn't affect me. It doesn't really affect any of us. So who really cares. Definitely not me. I was more concerned about the prospect of calling the hot wannabe model's number I had saved on my phone and sacrificed my sleep for just half a day ago.

Any half decent looking girl dressed bohemian chic in this city is all of a sudden a model. Volunteering at a local school's fashion event, entering the Chin picnic, having you're club “photographer” friend take photos of you in pseudo care free poses and a coke habit does not make you a model. You are not Kate Moss. Getting your big break as the daily sunshine girl does not make your career. Giving a blow job to that club promoter wearing that Ed Hardy t-shirt one size too small promising he will get you in touch with the right people was a waste of your time. Keep going down this path and you will serve drinks and possibly wings to inebriated men acting like teenage high school jocks for the rest of your life. That tall, awkward looking, unconventionally beautiful girl with the A cup breast size, she's the model. You are just the aging bartender that wasted your tips on a bad breast job. Go back to school and leave the modeling to actual models. But truth be told, the city needs these girls. Men need these type of women. I need these women. They have the biggest attitude and pretend to have absolute confidence but they really don't. Most of them have nothing else going for them but their unoriginal, conventional t.n.a. type of beauty. They are a dime a dozen and deep down they know this. That is why they have no booking agent, constantly have to hustle their “portfolios” and fish for approval with every chance they get. High school ended a long time ago and so did their power over me. Secretly, they desperately desire my attention. They need it and why shouldn't I give it to them? Why not sacrifice my sleep, enjoy the company and excitement of these fake breasted insecure women. They might not give me a relationship with substance but I'm not looking to marry someone to cheat on any time soon. I still own more than five pairs of ties. I have nothing better to do with my nights. And hell, it's definitely better than sitting around watching Survivor.

Love and Shoes

(Something old while I work/keep everything new for the website...stay tuned)

Why is letting go of people so hard and buying a new pair of shoes so easy? I know what you're asking yourself: what does one have to do with the other? Well….everything. I love shoes but not like I love people and why is that? Because shoes are shoes and people are people? WRONG!!!!

When you go through a break up one of the things you frequently get told is "everything happens for a reason" but straight up, that’s a lie. Its one of those beautiful lies that you want to believe to help make sense of the pain. In truth, not a God damn thing happens for any particular reason. Everything is random. To believe otherwise is optimistically naive. I do it as well. I tell myself the same thing but that’s the kind of post break up Hollywood babble that would make Tyler Durden pop a nerve in his forehead. If Tyler has taught me anything it's that none of us are beautiful unique snowflakes. We are all part of the same decaying organic matter. We are God's unwanted children; the middle children of history with no specific purpose. Yes, that’s extremely fukkin depressing. Thank you Tyler for making sense of a world that apparently makes no sense at all.

It’s hard to argue with Tyler's logic (especially if you've read the book). He makes complete sense. Believing that everything happens for a reason is believing in "the force". It's believing in something bigger than the tangible world. It's believing in Superman, Spiderman, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. It's believing that Osama is still alive in hiding somewhere in the Middle East and not in the C.I.A secret base getting golf balls tee'd off at his head by George W. Believing that everything happens for a reason is accepting Christ as your savior.

While all these things in their purest forms represent everything that is right with the world, we all know that it lacks one fundamental thing; logic. So again I ask, why is letting go of people so hard and buying new shoes so easy? Everyone loves shoes; even my most thugged out homeboys can discuss sneaker culture for hours. Anyone who says they don't have a shoe preference is a fukkin liar. If I gave someone a shit load of cash and said buy some new shoes, no one would hesitate to take the money. But if I said here is a wonderful new person, perfect in every way, now let go of the pain and love you have for your exes, a lot of people would not be able to do it. They might say they can but in reality it’s not so easy; at least not as easy as buying a new pair of sneakers. But why not? Nothing happens for a specific reason, right? None of us are beautiful unique snowflakes; we have no purpose, so why can't we just move on with no heart feelings? Why can't we just perform one random act the same as another? Why can't we find a new person to love as easy as we can buy a new pair of shoes?

I buy shoes quite frequently and so do most people I know. Every time I get my hands on a new pair of sneakers, I more often than not, wear it every chance I get. It becomes my new favorite pair of kicks. As lame as it sounds, I try to pick outfits that best suit those kicks. Hell, I even sport them with things that don't match the sneaks at all. I just love a new pairs of shoes that much. But never does the thought pass in my head that this will be the absolute last pair of sneakers I'll ever buy. As much as I love the shoes for the moment, I always concede in my mind that I will inevitably buy another pair of sneakers and love them just as much, if not more.

But the same can't be said for ex-lovers. Every mildly serious relationship that I've ever been in, I've truly believed in my heart that there was no other girl out there for me than who I was with currently. I believed she was my soul mate and we met for a reason. I believed that everything in my life has lead up to her and I getting together. I believed that all the bad breakups and all the heartaches of the past were for a reason; well at least till we break up and find someone new again. Silly huh? Don't front, all of us at one point or another have believed this ridiculousness. Some of us still believe it and have convinced ourselves that the person were with now is the "one". Yes, we were silly before but this time it’s for real. Ya right, Straight nonsense!!

I realize how cynical I sound right now and granted this will one day be used against me. I'll fall in love again and one of my friends will bring this blog up and say, "Lorenzo, you know you'll inevitably out grow this love like you said in that blog". And I'll respond by saying, "I was young then. I didn't know what I was talking about and so and so is really the "one" for me. They made me a believer." In a sense, I've created a self-professing paradox by writing this blog. But let me say this: right now I am being completely logical and for future reference, when I "fall in love again", bring this blog up because I won't be thinking straight then like I am at this very moment.

Shoes inevitably get worn out. Shoes become out of style. Shoes will end up in the back of your closet. You will find a new pair of shoes that will replace your old ones. You will have another pair of favorite sneakers that you will absolutely have to wear with every outfit in your closet. Even when the outfit doesn't match the shoes, you will make it work. You will fall in love. You will inevitably fall out of that love. You will cry like you've never cried before. Your heart will break time and time again. You will write silly poems and blogs professing your undying love for that person. You will write drunken late night emails while listening to Cold play telling them this. You will eat Cheetoes for three months straight while watching Sleepless in Seattle over and over again(ok maybe that one is just me). This is not a theory. These are the facts of life. This is the reality of love and shoes.