Recently, in anticipation of moving yet again (ah, to be young and in debt), I've been going through my various possessions. Various with a capital V, really; I have SO MUCH SHIT. The pile for the thrift store is growing ever higher, and, despite being picked over thrice already by various friends and siblings, it is threatening to overspill its designated corner and wreak havoc on the rest of my otherwise orderly packing.

One of life's sweetest, most perfect experiences has got to be swimming in the warm ocean. Some of my best memories are of late night swims.

Being pulled out with the undertow in Costa Rica, but mesmerized by the quality of light against the white caps. Running in with our dresses on, my mom and I drunk in Mexico. Skinny dipping with a crew of friends, we made a living canvass churning up mass plumes of phosphorescence at Wreck beach. 'Graduating' from grade 7, the entire class decides to run to the ocean armed with cans of whipped cream.

A few weeks ago, I was babysitting for a friend of mine. The child that was to be stuck with me for a few hours was a spunky 9 year old girl. She was not by any means shy about, well, anything.

As we were walking to my house, a local construction worker nodded hello, smiled, and made a vague comment about the lovely weather. For the first time since I'd met her, the young girl went quiet.

I was just in a relationship with a guy who's well over 10 years younger than me. No biggy in and of itself however it was a contrast against the previous guy who's well over 10 years OLDER.

What tickled me the most about the younger is how much he really listened to my arguments. No screaming matches that inspire the neighbors to phone the police thinking I'm being assaulted kind of 'discussions'.

It was a nice respite to have a man simply nod after a moment of consideration.

Dear phone perverts,

I thought of you today. Usually when I think of you, it's because you called me at work and forced me to listen to your heavy breathing, and a short description of what you'd do to me with your 12 inch cock. I'm sure you'd elaborate on your description if only I'd stop hanging up on you. Perhaps calling strangers puts a bit of a cap on your creativity?

When I was eighteen, I got cast in a one-act play called "Anal". It was not about someone with obsessive behaviours of organization.

I am going to severely miss my Niseema who's left us.

She was the one with the distracting cleavage. FACEPLANT! I want to FACEPLANT! The spoingy dreadlocks.

I hope you experienced her. She's so, so very loving and luscious. Sigh.
She sends the most jaw-dropping texts which aren't for me to share with the world. There've been many a morning when I've woken up to something she's shared and it makes me sail through the day with a joyful smile.

Thanks for showing up for work, Niseema! And for showing up in general. You're amazing.

Pride weekend here was welcomed with loving sunshine and bold celebration, giving me an excuse to share this fantastic viral letter to Dr. Laura: bigot-lady of the US airwaves:

Dear Dr. Laura,

Every evening my beau and I talk about and compare our daily activities over the internet. This is a very important factor in long-distance relationships because it makes us (almost) forget that we weren't physically present during said daily activities. He'll usually start by talking about brains and electromagnetic waves and the like. I tell him I read a book. "What about?" he then asks. "Vaginas". "Of course".

Sex and old people. Wrinkles, sweat and maybe a soft clink of a set of dentures hitting the bottom of a glass of water.

Don't think of it much? Me neither, except for when I do!

I've now heard two rousing testimonies of how sizzling hot old people sex is and will be.

A roommate I had in her early 20's was bragging about her sex life to her grandmother. Her grandma's response?

"____, you haven't had sex until you're in your eighties."

Recently, during a dating adventure, a man expressed interest in having me come back to his place for some afternoon romping fun. Since that is not at all what I am looking for, I explained that I am not looking for random hookups but am looking for a connection type relationship. I don’t need/want random hook ups, I have a solid relationship at home where I have great sex! He didn’t relent, so I offered him another option… Give me things, buy me things… Money, gifts, whatever… I will be as random and nsa as you want then. He thought I was joking at first, but I assured him I was not.

I'm not sure how it started, why it happened or who started it... but some sexy and BDSM-type styles have turned hipster. There are phases, like owl tattoos and looking like a starving lumberjack with giant 70s sunglasses and a handlebar 'stache. I'm not judging style-followers as fall for the occasional "She's wearing that, I wanna wear that" too.

So recently, as I’ve written about in the last bit, I have been dipping my toes into the world of dating. Its interesting, after 3 years, not much has changed. It kind of feels like a rat race and a job interview all in one, still fun, just a little crazy at times. A few things in particular have come to my attention as a bit of a pattern and I would like to address them, because they’re really starting to piss me off… So, I hope some men are reading and paying attention.

The flirting class offered this week has attracted A LOT of interest. Comparative horde of callers phoning to be on the wait list markedly different from recent past dates.

What this means to me is the weather is encouraging people to look at and then show themselves, body and character. Beautiful, considering how much light there is to play in now.

I've bought lotteries tickets I never buy in the naive wish to win enough to follow the sun. Vancouver in June, then run.

I was walking to work today, a casual stroll as I was early and enjoying the lack of rain and the quiet of a Sunday morning. In my calm state of mind, I naturally started fantasizing. Nothing too hard core, just little glimpses of what I’d be doing had I still been warm in bed with my partner. Suddenly a bicycle speeds in my direction so I stop to let it pass. I smile at the young man and with a slight show of his teeth, he hisses. That’s right, a man on a bike hissed at me. I kept walking but my fantasy was totally destroyed by this… odd and unnecessary act of defensiveness.