Spicey McSpice is driving me crazy

Mr. Spice has been calling often lately, sometimes multiple times a day. Sometimes it is to discuss something work related, but more often than not it’s to “see how I’m doing” or to ask my advice about something (like getting his printer working).

I’m fine offering my advice, but it’s getting to be a bit much. He has a girlfriend, who apparently tattooed his name on her body, and I don’t get why he doesn’t just ask her to help him with things.

I find too that if I stay on the phone too long with him he’ll start mentioning things like:

– How his new girlfriend is going to buy him a truck

– How he thinks he’ll settle down with her, even though he’s still running around after other women (but he’ll change after he gets married, really)

– Asking why it didn’t work out between us even though I’ve told him numerous times (you can’t dictate who my friends are, among other things)

– How much our boss sucks and is cheap and prays too much

Sometimes I think he’s telling me things to make me jealous, or to regret leaving him, but honestly I don’t even listen anymore once he starts to talk about anything related to that. It’s annoying and I want it to stop, especially with A coming back (I don’t think he would appreciate Mr. Spice calling all the time and I respect that). I need to put some distance and I have stopped answering his calls all the time (especially when he calls during work, I hate that), but it’s also backfired on me when it’s something work related.

I did get a small victory though, as he’s stopped asking me for sex every time I see him. The thought now makes me uncomfortable, and I really didn’t appreciate how that disrespected A, and I suppose myself as well (but mostly A).


And to be honest I don’t think I really like him as a person anymore. Now having the opportunity to see the other side of him (as a “friend” of sorts, I guess), I’m not happy with what I see. He uses people constantly – it’s never about what he can do for someone, but what they can do for him (see above re: his girlfriend buying him a truck). He constantly complains about the state of his life and it’s always somebody else’s fault (as though he had no decision-making power in the 15 years he’s been in this country, he obviously could have done nothing to make his life better). I’m pretty sure he’s unable to be faithful (why brag about your girlfriend and then admit to seeing other women?), and I know now that when we were together he was out womanizing (now I understand why he was always accusing me of sleeping with other people – because he was and assumed I was too!)

I would love to be able to dump him again as a friend, but the truth is I need to keep him close for this job thing – it’s better the devil you know, as they say, and there are times when I need him to do me favours regarding managing the building. I can’t ask for favours if I cut him out. I guess until I quit this 2nd job I’ll have to live with having him in my life. I just wish I could manage to keep it to a strictly work-related relationship and still keep things civil!


I would like to see you shit yourself

I am comfortable discussing most things, but poop is not one of them. I was thus horrified when I found out that sometimes (I refuse to say often) women poop during labour. Somehow A and I got to discussing pregnancy and labour and I admitted that my two fears about labour and delivery has nothing to do with the pain, but everything to do with the possibility that I may puke or poop – the two “P’s” that I refuse to mention again.

His response?



Ok no, you can’t breed me…

I had an impromptu sleepover with Mr. Jamaica last weekend and I realized that it’s probably time to slow things down to a full stop.

Clue #1 was when he showed up 3 hours late for dinner, which wouldn’t have been a big deal except for Clue #2 and #3…

Clue #2 was when he asked me whether I would consider taking my IUD out. Uh, no, I’m not ready to have a kid, especially not with someone I literally just met. Who does that?

Clue #3 was when he whispered in my ear during sex that he wants to “breed” me. The last time I checked I was a woman, not a dog, and I’m not interested in just popping somebody’s kid out, thankyouverymuch. I know this sounds crazy, but I’d actually like to have a child with someone that I love and care about, that I’m in a stable relationship with, and that doesn’t consider me just a breeding machine.

I’m asking too much, right?


I think I need my head examined.

I sometimes have terrible taste in men. Sometimes I make terrible choices about the men I choose to have in my life. I don't know why I do it, to be honest. I know they're wrong for me, I may even be able to list off a million different reasons why. I don't think I suffer from a lack of confidence or doubt my self-worth. At all.

I think I'd like to try giving someone else the decision-making power in my life since I seem to not be doing so well in opposite sex department. Any takers?


Body Image 101: I can’t get no satisfaction

Body image is a funny thing. Not in a “haha” sort of way, but more in an ironic way because I can never seem to be really happy with my body, no matter what my size is.

When I was in my teens all I wanted were boobs. I was super skinny and tried a mélange of things to gain weight, some even very unhealthy things. Despite my efforts the most I was able to put on was about 10lbs, bringing my total weight to 130lbs by the end of high school.

130lbs put me at the very low end of a “normal” weight based on my height. I still didn’t have boobs, much to my chagrin, and I hated my body. When I slept with men for the first time my shirt always stayed on because at least I could fake my lack of a chest by wearing a good push-up bra.

I felt like a super awkward stick person. I’ve been told I’m pretty for much of my life, and at times I guess I believed it, but for the most part I did not feel womanly at all.

And I desperately wanted to feel like a woman.

I tried to feel better about myself through self-photography. As a result I have a number of images of myself in various degrees of undress. It helped somewhat – in looking at the images I was able to see what others saw, which wasn’t so bad. As soon as I critiqued myself live in front of a mirror, however I again hated what I saw.

In my mid-twenties my body started to change. I gained weight, switching to the very high end of “normal” and at times was even over “normal” and into “overweight.” I am lucky I guess in that I’m tall so even when I was heavier it wasn’t noticeable. I grew boobs and hips and an ass, all the womanly parts I wanted when I was younger but didn’t have and couldn’t get.

And you know what? I still wasn’t happy. Suddenly I had days where I just felt fat and couldn’t for the life of me find something flattering to wear. I went from one extreme to the next with no stop between to feel satisfied about my body.

I did an informal experiment with Mr. Dreads and Mr. Spice this weekend, both the only men who have seen me nude since my ex (and I couldn’t very well ask him!) I showed them a scale of women’s bodies from underweight to obese and asked them to place me on that scale. I also did the same for myself.

Both men placed me in the middle of average weight. I placed myself at the high end of average, bordering on overweight. Clearly there’s a disconnect here. I know both men love my body, and really I should trust their judgement because they’ve seen more “real” women nude than I have, certainly. Actually, I really shouldn’t care at all what they think, but I do.

Of course I do.

Oh well, here’s to learning to love my body….

– image: me



Change in the House of Blues

The below was written in 2006 after returning from a business trip to Chicago. This was a pivotal time in my relationship with my ex-husband – it was the first time I found out about his extracurricular activities. Shortly after I returned to Toronto we broke up for 6 months.

I didn’t notice him at first, not until he started talking. It was hard to hear him over the noise of the Stones cover band. He introduced himself and I did the same, all the while keeping my distance. It was not the first time that night I had been approached, but there was something different about this man. Despite the fact it was in industry-only party, he was the only one in a sea of hundreds who was wearing a suit. He explained that he had come straight from work, that he was a lawyer specializing in intellectual property. He pointed to the left, told me his client was in the private box next to ours, and had asked him to join the party earlier that afternoon. After a few minutes of attempted conversation in the noise he left me, and I continued to get lost in the anxiety I felt and the turmoil that my life had become. Being away from home had only made things worse, and the only thing I wanted at that moment was to be on the first plane home to Toronto, somehow thinking that if I was there I could somehow fix everything and be happy again.

But then my Chicago stranger came back and in a few short minutes everything changed. Nothing prophetic was said, no light shone down from above, the earth did not quake beneath me (from anything other than the people dancing around us), but I left the House of Blues that night feeling like somehow the turmoil would fix itself and all I had to do was exist as best I could.

We kept in contact once I was back home and when the chaos in my life had settled and things had finally been confronted and put to bed, I was able to tell him thank you for approaching me that night. While never his intention, he managed to change something, somehow, and I’m better because of it.

I received a christmas card this year from him. It came late but stood apart from the rest for a different reason. The impact that was made on me that night when I felt everything was going to be alright has stayed with me long past my departure from Chicago. I will keep his card as a reminder of things I’m not even sure I am able to accurately and justifiably express in words.

– image: imradio.com



I never never NEVER thought that at 28 I would be married AND separated.

Especially not from my high school sweetheart.

And yes, we were high school sweethearts. We met in 10th grade, started dating in 12th grade, and dated for 10 years before getting married.

We were married just under 2 years before we separated.

We lived together, we had dogs together, we had seen each other through many, many things – job losses, health conditions, mental health issues, infidelity, trust issues…

Unfortunately those last few things never fully resolved themselves and ended up being the catalyst for our separation.

Please understand, my ex is a good man. He was a great husband (the below aside). He was my best friend.

But we had issues that we didn’t adequately address, the biggest one being we were sexually incompatible. As a result, he was unfaithful. Now I’m not letting him off the hook for the infidelity, but sex was always so important to him and was the only thing we ever really fought about.

I just couldn’t give him what he wanted / needed. I was never able to, though believe me I tried. I just reached a point though where I realized…..what he wanted wasn’t in me to give him. It just wasn’t me.

The thing is, when I found out again that he had been doing things he shouldn’t have been doing I felt so stupid. We had been down that road before. In fact, 6 years prior we had separated for 6 months because of it. I found out then that he had been unfaithful through most of the beginning of our relationship. I don’t know why I thought, when we reconciled, that it would be any different.

Oh, I’m sure it was different for awhile. Maybe even for a year or two.

I should have known that it wouldn’t last.



We put the “D” in “Dysfunctional”

Oh Mr. Spice….

So on my way home last night from my date I give Mr. Spice a call to say hi, and also because…..well, I miss him.

Let's back up – Mr. Spice and I met when I lived in the apartment building with my husband. He was the handyman for the building, I was a tenant who needed a lot of repairs done. Now before you go thinking that this was like some porn where the handyman and the housewife fuck on the sofa while the husband is at work, WRONG. But it wasn't long after the separation (2 weeks) that we started sleeping together. I know 2 weeks doesn't sound like a long time, really, but when your heart is broken every day feels like a month. Plus, it was a rebound thing. What better way to get over my husband than by fucking the handyman?

Except it didn't exactly go as smoothly as I had planned. Now I'm not the type of woman who believes that once you sleep with someone you begin to have feelings for them. Nope, not at all. In fact, I believe that men and women are capable of having sex with no strings attached, no feelings involved, just a really good time.

And maybe this completely contradicts the above statement, but in this case, feelings did get involved, on both our ends. I would argue, however, that Mr. Spice and I didn't just fuck. We spent too much time together doing “couply” things, like taking a mini vacation up north, going on small road trips, that sort of thing.

At the end of the day, our fucking turned into a sort-of-relationship. A very dysfunctional one. And so, it was time to cool it off.

Things turned sour when I started to see other people casually. Not even in a dating way, just a friendly way. But the thing about Mr. Spice that I learned is that he is very insecure. For such an attractive man with so many skills in bed and one of the most beautiful dicks I've ever seen he is amazingly insecure. He was constantly accusing me of sleeping with other men in the same building when we were “together”, which was ridiculous because none of them were even close to my type (a much older guy with 2 young kids who smokes and dresses like a slob? No thanks). My going out and meeting other people turned into a huge deal. We fought the entire month of January, and I don't understand why I put up with it, or why he put up with it. Our relationship is odd, and still dysfunctional, in that we will fight and yell at each other, not speak for days, and then when we do speak again (always) we are perfectly fine. Until the next fight.

A few days ago we had a fight. I don't even remember over what – I think it was over the fact that I'm seeing Mr. Dreads and Mr. Spice seems to think that since he tapped it first he owns it, therefore Mr. Dreads is impeding on his territory. (Just replace Mr. Spice's face with Ray J's below and this is basically the mentality). In fact, he actually said to me last night that he will always be the first black man I ever slept with, and he wishes that he was the only one, but clearly I'm keen on sampling all the “brothers.” Oh really?

Now we are fighting again and I kinda wish I hadn't called him last night. I also have no idea why I even both with this relationship, but I know I'm going to call him in a few days, or he will call me, and we will pick the dysfunction right back up where we left it.

I must be insane.