Tag Archives: romance


Hello, friend…

What a day it’s been. You see, along with writing & stand-up & filmmaking… I also work in bakery. And today, man, you’d think at the first signs of winter here in Toronto folks were thinking they had to stock up for the next few months… we were slammed. Which is great! For any business, especially a small one, you want that much foot traffic. And for the most part, everyone was super to deal with today which is awesome. (Though I could really deal with less of watching couples making out in front of me. It’s like, cool… you’re in love… you are so stoked we have cinnamon buns that you feel the need to make a baby in front of me…. but please, just order something and then rip each other’s clothes off. Pleaseandthankyou.)

At the end of the night, as I closed up, I went to the washroom and I smiled at myself in the mirror. Sure, I felt as tired as hell, but I looked good! I’ve not worn much, if any, make-up for a month or so now… not for any empowerment reasons… I actually haven’t had the money to replenish stuff… ANYWAY. I just caught a smile in my eyes or something, mostly because my teenage self would NEVER have permitted herself to leave the house without LAYERS of make-up on. I had cystic acne as a teenager… my skin wasn’t soft, it was speed bump city.

And I wanted to hiiiiiiiide. And now… well, you better like me for me or you can leave. 🙂

It makes me laugh a little, just at how my teen years were spent in a fight between figuring out who I was and how to get as far away from her as possible. I wanted to be older, I wanted to live in Florida, I wanted to be SOMEBODY, anybody other than who I was. And that was LONG before I’d know what social media was. (And for that reason alone I want to hug every teen in the world right now, I do not know how you find peace amongst all that noise. I’d be a MESS if I was 16 nowadays.) Granted, I still judge myself more than I should… whenever those life markers pop up in my head and I compare myself to others. Who are married, have stable incomes, have families… I question at times why that isn’t me. And then I yell at myself “Because that’s not supposed to be you right now! Jeebsus!”

(Insert Cher slapping Nic Cage in Moonstruck here. Snap Out of It!!)

Being 39 these days, actually, being 39 and single these days isn’t easier either. Online dating is my Achilles heel. But last night, watching the good egg that is Nick Offerman at Shea’s in Buffalo, he said that when he met the woman who’d become his wife he was doing some work on a theatre they’d soon be performing in. He was in his element and whatever light that came from him, must have caught her eye. He championed NOT trying to find love online, but in doing what you love … that way you’ll really connect with someone.

The man’s got a point.

When I’m in my element… I can feel it, that glow.

Confidence is a good thing, ain’t it?

Hmm… maybe a Tinder break is needed. I just did “Sober October”, maybe I can make… um… “No-Online Dating- Vember” a thing. (I will work on that title.)




online dating is fun!

Hello, friend…

Not gonna lie, this GIF is a pretty accurate description of my feelings towards online dating these days:



Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee….. (clunk)

Oh. I’ll be fine. 🙂



Hello, friend…

I am feeling the sting tonight of having met someone recently, but learning he has a lady after that feeling of “OOH! I like you!!” got settled into my belly rather nicely. In the words of one Charlie Brown, “good grief”. Once again, like Charlie, I’ve missed the football and landed on my back in pain. (The ego taking the brunt of the bruising.) But the GOOD part of it all is that I have made an awesome new friend and I truly mean that! I’m sad he’s not single, but I’m definitely glad we’ve met. He’s the coolest guy.

So! Here I am back to that game of trying to figure out which box is covering the baseball. (Occasionally, a drunk homeless guy is under one of the boxes but he tells me I’m pretty & that gives me enough pep in my step to keep looking.)

This weekend, as I sat in the waiting room of a tattoo shop in Toronto, across from me sat a guy and a girl who I thought were a couple given the body language but it soon became clear he was there to be a good friend and support her as she got tattoo number one. I was trying not to listen too closely to their conversation, but at one point she talked about her boyfriend and how “he challenged her”, but “in a good way, it’s good stress”. I wanted to ask her, “Do you really want that, though?” And I also thought of “SO WHY ISN’T HE HERE INSTEAD OF THAT GUY SITTING NEXT TO YOU WHO CLEARLY IS INTO YOU!?”

I’m guilty of it, not seeing something that was CLEARLY there, until it was too late. Or telling myself “it’s not SO bad with him” when really, I deserved better. My proverbial glasses weren’t on or, I was wearing those damn rose-coloured ones. (long sigh) ANYWAY. I hope that girl survived her first tattoo, and I keep hoping that one day I’ll finally kick that damn football.






Hello, friend…

Last night/this morning in Toronto was the annual “arty thingy” known as nuit blanche (white night, basically the city being illuminated)… I had no plan on attending to be honest, in chatting with my gal Virtue over brunch (we have been friends since 1st Grade, though we lost touch for years before re-connecting over a random phone call she made to a friend of mine) we agreed that we had simply reached that age of being “too old” for an all-nighter on the streets of Toronto. Age has been coming up a lot lately for me, I work at a bakery now and am a good 10 years older than a good lot of my co-workers. A few customers have asked me if I’m the owner, so I called one of them out on it a few days ago. This lady told me “well, you’re more mature than most of the people I see here”. Uh… thanks? I think?

Personally, I don’t feel 10 years older than most of them. Hell, I still think I have the vim and vigour of my 22 year old self most days! And then I have 2 glasses of wine and I am sooooooooooooo tired. And druuuuuuuuuuunk.

The long way to my point here is that I DID attend nuit blanche despite my 38 years on the planet! I was out with the most delightful company, and not wanting the evening to end I suggested that we go scope out the nuit. He agreed and off we went. Right before we headed out though, conversation had gone into the land of what to do with stuff you got from your ex or bought with them. I have received them in an unmarked box at my front door, the relationship equivalent of a suspicious package. (Where one then should call in your closest girlfriends to inspect the package- and not open it by myself like I did.) He told me that he opted to leave everything with her, necessity being the biggest factor as he was moving across the country. After all, things hold memories just as much as places do. Once daylight hits you see the spot from the romantic night before either fondly or with regret. You walk by that item he or she purchased for you and time travel to the intent in which it was given.( It is 100% time travel, thankyouverymuch.)

I suggested we head first to the building in which we met about  eight years ago, which was also an exhibit, and off we went. Weaving  in and out, amidst an amount of people only seen when the subway breaks down. In finding our former office, seeing how it had changed I had mentally gone into my time travel machine to recall friends since passed (I miss you, Elan!!) and moments where the boy I was dating at the time surprised me at work. I said hello to the sink where I used to wash the office dishes in the communal area. (No, I actually said Hello to it.) The job wasn’t the right fit for me, and I wasn’t there for long, but I formed friendships in that building that are teflon-like. So to walk its halls again was fascinating.

My company for the night hadn’t been with me in that space for at least eight years. I couldn’t have imagined then that we’d ever be there again. Together. Absolutely not. But life is funny that way.

We eventually found ourselves in the courtyard, surrounded by people and a man operating a film project. An actual “old timey” film projector, like the ones I could operate in grade school. (*high five to my AV Club peeps!*) We were all there, under the foggy night sky watching old 60s music promotional “videos”. Collectively time traveling to a time a fair number of us never lived in (save for the man operating the film reel). Watching a woman we thought was Patty Duke sing, until time travel helped with that Shazaam app of its to prove us wrong. Nope, it was Kay Starr! (I’ve linked to the song below & the video we watched last night.)

Off we went, down the steps past where that boy I was dating at the time met me for what I thought was going to his place to watch TRON but ended up being his taking me to dinner at the Rivoli and dumping me while the waitress took our drink order… sorry. Anyway. Off we went down the steps, and into the night.

Everything is always evolving to some degree, right?

Sure. Some places stay the same, but the people change.

And some people stay the same but the places change.

But every now and then we reconnect for a few magic moments… at at time traveller’s rest stop if you will, before we all move along once again and head off into the night.


headknocks & broomsticks

Hello, friend…

These past couple of weeks have been an interesting one. I knocked my head at work (I’ve taken a part time job at bakery and it’s fabulous… though I may need to start telling myself I’m allergic to tahini in order to stop myself from inhaling every single tahini cookie crumb I spot ). ANYWAY. I bumped my head and as a result was put on bed rest for 5 days. I wasn’t allowed to do much of anything but meditate.

Now, as someone who has had anxiety and panic attacks since the age of 10, keeping my mind calm is not something I’ve been very good at…BUT it’s something I’ve been working on.  And those 5 days proved to be something quite wonderful, minus the mild head trauma mind you. There is something so very healing when you just sit and listen to yourself, being still… though I question why I decided it was a good idea when I could look at a screen again that I re-join Tinder but anyhoo…. Why not re-join Tinder, Kelly?! Online dating is such fun! It’s like playing “will it float”* with your love life!

(*Oh, I miss David Letterman.)

And Tinder has already proved to be a plethora of fun Q&A’s, like “what are your three favourite body parts on a man?” So, thanks mild concussion! Super fun times on Tinder lay ahead I’m sure.

But as much as it hurt, perhaps there was something necessary that happened there. As my friend/massage therapist/healer/awesome lady told me, perhaps it was my body trying to get me to focus on myself.

Perhaps I haven’t been doing a very good job of that lately.

Perhaps it was my body’s way of telling me “there’s a lot of material in online dating, Kelly- you should get back on Tinder.” :/

Ugghh… fiiiiine.


… this message will self-destruct (maybe)

Hello, friend…

Well, if I didn’t have enough to worry about in a day, it turns out my new smartphone might explode. I’m the owner of the Samsung Galaxy Note 7 and as I now know… the battery might explode when it’s charging. So THAT’S awesome. I wondered today “so how do I call anyone for help if my phone self-destructs” and then remembered.. AH!! That’s why there are still two payphones behind my apartment building. I mean, I’m fairly used to other things in my life self-imploding, like my love life. Ha! (I’m here all the time folks! Please, try the veal) ANYHOO…

So I’m left tonight looking at my phone as I look at a new fella who has entered my life… with a generally happy grin, but an inner voice going “when I am going to do something dumb or you’re going to decide you need to work on your music?” (Ka-boom!)

Doubt is a pesky thing, isn’t it? Doubt, worry, panic, yadda yadda yadda. Be it a person or a thing, I’m trying to be very diligent and just let things be what they be. Yes, my phone might blow up over night (literally). But it might not. Yes, the hot guy who thinks I’m cool might not think that in the morning. But, he might kiss me before he heads off to work and message me sweet things during the day.

I just don’t know. And I’m okay with that.

Because it’s all how you see the situation, it’s all perspective… I’m trying to go with the thinking that if something leaves your life, it might not have needed to be there or it wasn’t meant to be there any longer than it was.

Obviously, I’d like things to work in my favour though… 😉



casting call

Hello, friend…

It’s late and I’ve worked a lot today, but before I hit the road to dreamland … Death Cab for Cutie is playing on TV and I’m just enjoying that and a moment of peace. I have been chatting with a bit with a fellow online, and today phone numbers were exchanged which seems like a decent bit of progress. Or it seemed like it. Because his first question was regarding what colour my underwear was. I don’t mean to be a jerk, but what the hell is wrong with just “shooting the shit” and being all “it’s great we exchanged numbers”. Starting small! Nope, it went from my exclaiming my joy Canada had won Gold in Swimming to “so are you more of a colourful person underneath or just black?” (slams head on desk- repeatedly)

I recently started thinking more about who I let into my life, and what impressions have been left on me. What I can let go of, what I should let go of. These guys are gone from my life but, the impression is left in a shirt I wore (we kissed that night!) or a ticket to a show that I still have in my desk drawer as a memento. You get the idea. I’ve gone through things a bit blindly, if I’m being frank and I think… I think I need to contemplate why I’ve gone for the guys I’ve gone for. Especially the less than savory ones.

There’s been a few of those. :/

In a lot of areas of my life I’m cautious, what work I take on… but dating, it’s been this open casting call. The Door is open, guys… come on in! Maybe I need to be more selective, just a bit. Don’t get me wrong, I have been lucky to have some INCREDIBLE men come into my life, there have been some absolute gems. And I want to go back to there.  I deserve good romantic things!

I have a quote on my fridge, from the late- great Mike Nichols, it might be paraphrasing what he actually said but nonetheless, on my fridge is the phrase “don’t cast assholes”. I looked at it a bit differently the other day… hmmm…. perhaps there is something there.