The Tale of the Kilt

I went shopping several weeks ago for some new goodies to wear to the Leather Ball in early October. I had it in my head that I was going to sport some new duds, and one of those new duds was a kilt. Many, many years ago, I had attended the Folsom Fair in San Francisco and had purchased a kilt in a thrift store, intending to stand out from the crowd, which I did. No one else I saw during the entire event was wearing one, it enhanced my popularity and left me feeling so good about myself, I vowed to repeat the experience one day. Life goes on, family happens, and thoughts of doing things for myself fell by the wayside. Until this year.

Shopping under pressure has never been my thing. During the weeks leading up to the Leather Ball, I couldn’t find a single kilt I liked. They have come back into fashion, at least in one segment of the community, and are easier to find. There are the UtiliKilts, ruggedly constructed garments, sporting an array of pockets, hoops, clips and other geegaws, that would certainly serve one well in the heat of battle but would be far too bulky for me to dance in. They make a lighter version which is very attractive, but my size wasn’t available and I would not be able to order it in time for the event. The price was in the 175$ range, which would have been OK, I would certainly have purchased it on impulse, just to satisfy my need to be different. There were also kilts made of leather which were attractive, but the weight and stiffness of the kilt itself forced me to re-evaluate my decision. Of course, the traditional wool kilt was out of the question, especially considering that when I go to these types of events, I can dance for many hours at a time and sweat so much, I lose about 5 to 8 pounds of water weight. Hunting high and low, in shops and over the Internet, I was unable to locate the right model in my size; disappointed, I opted for army pants instead. I had a wonderful time none the less but the idea of a kilt stayed in the back of my mind.

It had never occurred to me to check out Ebay, which is odd, as it is my consumer drug of choice. Clicking away on the site, looking for other items, I keyed in the word KILT and Voilà!, pages and pages of goodies appeared for me to scroll through. I began to get a little excited, noting that the UtiliKilt I had admired was up for auction in my size, from a member somewhere in the US. I watched the auction until minutes before it concluded but decided not to bid as the combined price I would have to pay to obtain it and have it shipped was higher than what I would pay locally. Hmmmmm, patience is a virtue, they say, and in this case, it paid off. A couple days later, I came upon a place here in Canada which manufactures lambskin kilts to order. Following the instructions on the seller’s page, I sent them the required measurements and in two weeks, got my kilt via postal service. Total cost; 105$!

It arrived at the office; I was so excited that I immediately ran into the bathroom, stripped down and slapped that baby on. It was perfect, fit me like a glove, lambskin glove no less, was light and comfortable, and to my eye, complimented my body nicely. I could hardly wait to get it home and show off to Danny!

Before dinner, I could hardly stand it anymore, our daughter was in her room doing homework (hehehe, like I believe that!) so I corralled Danny into the bedroom, told him not to peek until I was done, and got changed. The exchange running through my head was had him telling me I looked hot, him peeking beneath to see if the myths were true and our having to delay dinner. Well, dinner went on just as planned ‘cause the conversation went something like this;

‘All right, big boy, you can look now’

‘Hmmmffff......’

‘Well, wadda ya think?’

Glazed look, shoulders begin shaking ‘Hmmmmffffff.....’

I’m feeling doubtful ‘Do you like it?’

And then it happened;

‘Bwwwaaahahahahahahahahahahaha!’

Who the f*&# needs a sporran, my jaw dropped and was hanging about crotch height

‘Bwwwaaahahahahaha!’ gag, sputter, ‘Nice skirt!’

‘It isn’t a skirt you asshole, IT’S A KILT!’

‘Hehehehehehe, yeah, whatever, you’re not actually gonna wear that out, are you?

‘You are a moron, thanks for the support’.

Then I got quiet. Really quiet. I changed into sweats and went out to set the table, called our daughter, and served dinner. I barely spoke to him for the rest of the evening. I was in shock, not angry so much, just very surprised at his reaction. We didn’t speak about the kilt again.

Last Saturday evening, we were introducing some friends from out of town to one of our favourite nightclubs. There was a DJ from New York spinning house music and we figured that the ambiance would be just right, not too hard, not too soft, for them to appreciate the space and the sound. We were to meet them at the venue at 11 pm so we began to get ready around 10. The issue of wardrobe came up and Danny finally dared pose the question.

‘What are you wearing?’

‘You’ll see soon enough’

‘Are you going to wear your kilt? Do you have anything to go with it? It’s kind of cold out, you may not be comfortable’

‘What you’re saying is that YOU won’t be comfortable. You wear what you want and I’ll take care of myself, thank you very much’.
Not quite Bette Davis but not too far off.

I locked myself into the bathroom with a bunch of stuff and proceeded to go through it. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I noted that my hair was a little long – admittedly, long for me is someone else’s buzz cut. I get hot when I dance and I don’t enjoy the sensation of a wet mop of hair on my head. Again, my mop is probably your toothbrush. A Grinch-like smile began to spread over my face. If Danny was in shock over the kilt, I would send him over the edge with my next little surprise. I hauled out the clippers and got to work.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Nothing, honey’

‘Are you clipping your hair at this hour? We’ll be late’

‘No we won’t, relax, I’ll be done in a moment’

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, snip, snip, bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, snip, gel, fluff, DONE! Hehehehehehehe

‘OK, I’m ready, let’s go’

He took one look at me and turned pale.

‘OH MY GOD! A mohawk! You’ve clipped your hair into a mohawk! Tell me your joking and that you’re not going out like this’
‘Hmmmm, seems like I’ve heard that question at least once this week. Well, bite me Boo Boo. If you can’t be proud of the man you love and encourage me then stay home alone and sulk. We have two very nice gentlemen waiting for us at the club and I intend not to disappoint them.

During the entire drive to the club, he stared at me sideways as though he were trying to drink it all in. When we got to the club entrance, our friends were waiting; they took one look at me and began gushing compliments, touching my hair, making me turn around for a better look, patting me on the tush. It was a great ego boost; Danny later admitted that he thought they were just being kind. Like they say, revenge is a dish best served cold and I wasn’t ready to warm up to Danny just yet. I was convinced that I was going to be the belle of the ball and that once he realized how much attention I was getting, he would see the error of his ways and swoop in to claim his man.

Like I said; Bette Davis.

Well, the evening got off to a roaring start, the music was very good, the crowd was fun and I was getting all kinds of attention. Just looks and smiles at first, but as the evening wore on, certain patrons felt emboldened and began coming over to dance with me, amongst other things. I don’t think that Danny got jealous at any point but I do think he began to see me in a different light. As of about two o’clock onwards, he would never be more than a couple of feet away from me and seemed genuinely proud to be with me. All in all, the soirée, and my grand experiment, were a hit. Our friends had a great time as did we, my self esteem was all topped up (not that I’ve ever really needed a refill but a little positive reinforcement now and again is nice) and Danny and I had surmounted yet another hurdle.

On the ride home, he apologized for his behaviour and for hurting my feelings, explaining that it was his own insecurity that were blocking him and not my behaviour and openness to change. We talked and talked as usual once we were in bed and fell asleep content and secure.

I shaved off the mohawk the next morning – being experimental is all fine and fun but only if it remains an experiment. The kilt was hung in my closet and already has a date for Saturday the 21st when yet another terrific DJ will be coming to town. Maybe next time, I’ll dye my hair........Bwwwahahahahahahaha!

Awkward

It appears that I have painted myself into a corner. It was certainly not my intention to do so, however, here I am, back to the wall, wet paint all over the place, and no matter how long I wait, the paint will not dry so I’m bound to get dirty as soon as I make a move.

A little while ago, I mentioned that I had been living a profoundly disagreeable situation at work. So disagreeable, in fact, that I gave in my resignation, more out of our exhaustion and frustration than from a genuine desire to change jobs. Discussions ensued and my boss asked me to stay, promising me that the situation would be resolved by the end of the year. The toxic co-worker in our midst would be sent on her way. Sounds easy, doesn’t it? Well, it ain’t.

For all of his good intentions, my boss does not have the skills or knowledge at his disposal to act on the situation. He doesn’t know what his options are, what the law says and how to go about proceeding with a dismissal. After all, you can’t just fire a long term employee on a whim. You must prove that you have tried to redress the situation on several occasions, that you have formally met the employee and discussed the problems, that you have given her a formal verbal warning, that you have evaluated her performance and given her clear issues to address and the opportunity to do so, etc etc. None of which was done. The employee in question, little miss toxic, has been quietly polluting the work atmosphere for so long that my boss has just learned to live with it. Employees have left the company at a fairly high frequency without ever giving their true motives and he has never questioned them adequately before departure.

This past week, all this came to a head with the resignation of one of my best staff members. She expressed to me that she had found another job with better pay and tasks that would help her develop a different skill set, and left it at that. I sensed that there was more to the story, not wanting to press her too much, I did ask her if there were any other reasons that motivated her departure. After some gentle prodding and reassuring from me, she began to open up, and when she did, a whole slew of negativity poured forth. I asked if she would be comfortable enough to repeat her words for my boss and she agreed. At the end of their conversation, after she had left, my boss slumped into a chair in front of my desk and looked stricken. This wonderful employee’s departure was a direct result of the toxicity and negativity which existed at work. She had spared no words and had pointed directly to the source of the problem, little miss toxic. She had also indicated that two more of my staff were reaching the end of their ropes and that we should intervene quickly, lest we lose them as well. Ouch!

From this new situation came the need to spring into action quickly. My boss and I had already evolved a game plan which would allow us to begin the new year minus the little miss toxic, and while our plan wasn’t foolproof (obviously), it permitted us to concentrate our efforts on eliminating the negatives and promoting positivity. The company will be celebrating its fifteenth anniversary next year and we wanted to return to the magical atmosphere that we had known and fostered in years past. This new situation threw a monkey wrench into the works and forced our hand. It was time for my boss to, as the French Canadian expression goes ‘mettre ses culottes’, which means to put his pants on. The only problem is that in order to put them on, he has to have them and the only person who can make those pants for him is me. In my former career, part of my job was to evaluate employees and their pertinence in an existing employment structure. This meant sometimes having to terminate people based on their weaknesses, using and working within the boundaries of articles of law to do so. I happen to be very good at it. It is a very difficult task because you are directly affecting a person on many levels. You touch on their competence in the workplace, their vision of self, rattling their self confidence, you also can adversely affect their capacity to seek out employment through mediocre references, you are affecting their earnings in the short, and possibly the long, term. All in all, you act as judge, jury and, in some cases, executioner. In the present case, I am being asked to be all three.

That’s right; I have been asked by my boss to put together the necessary documents that will allow him to terminate little miss toxic. From ‘I’m quitting’ – ‘Please stay, I’ll take care of it’, we’ve moved to ‘I’m staying’ – ‘Great, now please find a way to get rid of her’. I’m a little conflicted – I gave up a good opportunity with another company in favour of I job I love, based on the promise that the situation would be resolved, and now, I find that I’m the one who has to resolve it. Ugh, this isn’t what I signed up for.

You should know that I’m the kind of person whose face shows every emotion I’m going through. If I don’t like you, you can rest assured that I will not act hypocritically and smile and treat you all nice-like just for appearance’s sake. Nope, I’d rather be curt and at most, courteous. If I have no real reason to maintain a relationship with you, professionally or personally, I will not have you suffer my presence for very long. I can’t like everyone and don’t expect everyone to like me therefore there is certainly no reason in the world to pretend that we’re all grand friends. When I’m unable to put a positive spin on a difficult situation, especially for just a short while, I become quiet. Very quiet. And since I’m generally very animated, seeing me this way sets off warning bells in the minds of those who surround me. For the person who is the target of this distance creating behaviour, it can be worse than an all out fight because I let it be known, through body language and various other signals, that they don’t even merit interaction with me, that my energy is too precious to waste on them, as is my time. That is what is currently happening with little miss toxic. I was comfortable with the notion of reacting to her in this fashion until she was to leave, now that I’m the one who is to orchestrate that departure, I’m finding it difficult to maintain an even keel.

Today is a day off for me – rather than lay back, relax and enjoy a nice Fall day, I’m rifling through my old work archives, looking for resources I can use to help me prepare the file for little miss toxic. I’ll try to get as much done as possible this morning so that I can get out into the sunshine in the early afternoon.

On a slightly brighter note, I’ve spoken in the past of our friends G and L, who are going through a rough time, following G’s cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment regimen. Today is L’s birthday. She and I saw each other on the weekend and she expressed to me that she did not want to celebrate her birthday this year as she felt that there was nothing worthy of celebration. I totally understand her as I’ve been in that boat before. However, I wanted to find a way of acknowledging the event without actually calling it a birthday. She came over to the house last night with her son (on a totally unrelated errand) and I took advantage of their visit to do just that. When she arrived, she found a present, a card and a cake on the dining room table. I made the card myself (yes, I am crafty on so many levels), decorating the front with an array of Fall coloured leaves (I LOVE my CriCut machine!), the interior of which proclaimed ‘Happy Fall’. I explained that, in accordance with ancient pagan traditions, this was the time to celebrate the bounty of the Earth and all that She offers us, hence the chocolate cake. Also, the Earth gives us an array of minerals and various other substances, some of which are used to create porcelain, which in turn is used to create little collectable buildings (she’s as much a collector as I am) hence the present swathed in recycled and recyclable gift wrap. Not once was the word birthday uttered, we were just celebrating Fall.

Sometimes, my Machiavellian nature is used for evil and other times, for good. Beware to those who should fall on the wrong side of that very thin line!

Mono-Gay-Me Too!

Well the topic of the week seems to popping up left and right in my life all of a sudden. Or perhaps, it’s because there have been various discussions throughout the week and I’m just more attuned. You know the phenomenon; You’re going to buy a new car and the colour you’ve chosen is white – suddenly, it seems like every car on the road is white, when did there start being so many white cars out there?

Reading and writing about monogamy and the alternatives have brought the topic to the forefront all of a sudden. Last night, over drinks, a friend suddenly blurts out that he and his partner of many years have decided to open up their relationship, wadda-we-think? The ensuing discussion found them grilling us on aspects of our own relationship, which led to a certain amount of discomfort. It seemed that they were trying to pattern themselves upon someone else rather than go out, experience, discuss and lay the groundwork for themselves. When I kept trying to lead the conversation back to their tastes, their desires, want and needs, they got a little upset and asked why we were blocking. They wanted to know ALL ABOUT our experiences and decisions without having anything to share in return. It felt very voyeuristic, and I eventually had to ask them to stop, explaining that while we are definitely not against a healthy exchange of ideas, it has to be a two way street and that the decision to open up a relationship and change the basic definition of intimacy was a profoundly personal one, and should in no way be influenced by the experiences of others. They didn’t get it. They just wanted us to make it sound sexy and exciting and give them permission to play around because it would put the burden of responsibility on us, should things go awry. They didn’t get that either, and at one point, we just had to agree to disagree and step away with a rather unpleasant taste in our mouths.

This morning, while answering a few messages on Bear411 (I make a point of saying something to virtually everyone who sends a message or signs our guestbook – basic courtesy), I noticed the profile of a man names Bruce. The lead picture showed a handsome, muscular man, who am I not to pay him the respect of ogling him? So, I clicked on his profile with the intention of having a good look at all the muscles and as I began to read his profile text, I became somewhat captivated and the pictures took a back seat to the message he was sharing. Among other things, he had a few reflections about monogamy. I was glad to note that there are other people with a sane, respectful view of the mono/poly debate and messaged him, asking his permission to quote him here. He kindly responded in the affirmative, below is what he wrote;

I believe that the parameters of a relationship are determined by the parties involved. Whether it be monogamy in its strictest sense or an open relationship or something in between it is not to be viewed from outside of the relationship and judged or commented on.

And apropos to that. Please if you are one of those men who shouts the virtues of monogamy from the rooftops, don’t hit on me for a hookup and then tell me I’m the exception you're willing to make. Because regardless of how old I may look, I sure wasn't born yesterday.

The same goes for guys on here who, in no uncertain terms, emphatically state they will never meet partnered guys and then ask me to meet them for hooking up.

Being gay is just a small part of who I am. It defines who I can fall in love with, and who I enjoy having sex with but it does not define me as a person. I identify with many aspects of being gay, but not all. I know some people who, if not for being gay, would have no identity at all. That’s not me.


The rest of the text about himself was, in my opinion, just as grounded and sane and was a pleasure to read. Thank you Bruce, for taking the time to share a little something about you in such a direct, no frills kind of way. I, for one, appreciate it.

I did take one last peek at his amazing physique before I left, though! Intellect is all fine and good but a rocking set of pecs sure starts the day off right.

Mono-Gay-Me

I’ve been catching up with my fellow bloggers today, reading anywhere from one to several entries written by my favourite authors. As I was reading the latest from Larry, I came upon an entry he wrote about monogamy and the myriad responses he received. The more I read, the more I started asking myself questions. I didn’t comment as I felt that all the major points that could be addressed had been, but it did cause me to stop and think about my own situation.

A couple months ago, I wrote about Danny’s and my decision to post a profile on Bear411. We took a couple demure pictures, I wrote a descriptive if not a little stand-offish text and away we went, more or less. A little personal history may help;

For the first three and a half years of our relationship, we were closed in more ways than one. Danny had always had troublesome relationships, filled with distrust and betrayal which caused him to be very closed minded about a variety of topics. In most cases, his responses to such topics as recreational drug use, sexual openness, exploring fantasies, etc. were based on his fears and history, His reactions were valid, and I validated them by promoting communication. In most cases, the discussions were not about us at all but were judgement calls about others. He demonized any and all behaviours that resembled those he had witnessed or been a party to in years past; whether he himself had been a drug user or promiscuous was irrelevant, his focus was on the negative aspect of these behaviours no matter what. He never expressed himself negatively to others and never made judgement calls in public, but wouldn’t hesitate to share his opinions with me.

I, on the other hand, was armed with a sort of out of date naïveté reminiscent of Barbie and Ken. In my mind, everything was OK just as long as there was respect and communication. I felt that there was nothing to worry about, no fear to be felt, let’s just dive in and see what happens. Just like cliff diving without checking the depth first, there are risks. And just as there are some wonderfully deep people out there, beautiful and worthy of exploration, there is a whole lot of garbage strewn shallow shoreline to go through to get there. I’m glad that we took things slow because we ensured (in as much as we possibly could) that our couplehood was strong and resilient, that we loved each other deeply and were each other’s number one concern, that we respected one another and were willing to do anything to make our relationship work. Nothing is forever, but taking the time to lay strong foundations sure help longevity. As Danny began to relax and feel safe, we arrived at a point where we were ready to let down our guard a little.

What’s that expression? Forbidden fruit is twice as sweet? Maybe so, but generally, once you’ve tasted it, the fascination wanes. And that’s exactly what happened at my birthday this year. In late September, Danny suggested that we spice up the Bear411 profile a bit – nothing raunchy, just a little sexy – and see what happens. Poof! In a matter of minutes, we get a message from a guy here in Montreal that we had seen and admired on a number of occasions, asking us what we were up to. Danny responded that we were planning on going out for a few birthday beers, would he like to join us. The answer was something to the effect that yes, he would, just as long as he got to kiss the birthday boy. Which he did. And I’m not ashamed to say, that after a few more beer, he did a great deal more to the birthday boy and my future husband, too. That night, we had our very first sexual experience as a couple with a third. It didn’t hurt that he was handsome and sexy, that we had thought about him lustily in the past, and that we had a little liquid courage running through our veins. We had a great time and enjoyed every minute of it. And right after we left him, we agreed that while it had been nice, it was a kind of ‘been there, done that’ thing, not to be repeated, at least with this guy, not that he hadn’t been great but he was no longer forbidden hence, old news.

On the way home, and later, in our own bed, we talked about how we felt, what this experience had meant and whether we hoped/expected it to ever happen again. In fact, the ensuing discussion lasted longer than the sex had and that is saying a lot ‘cause the sex lasted a LONG time. If anything, rather than open us up to more and different types of sexual experiences, it opened us up to more and different modes of communication.

To the question; are we monogamous, I can see only two possible answers and they aren’t ‘yes’ or ‘no’. The first is; ‘it’s only sex, what’s the big deal and why do you care?’ and the second is ‘none of your goddam business’. Either way, it’s a personal choice. Those who open themselves up to this type of sharing are rarely coy about it and those who prefer to remain closed generally express it rather blatantly. Anyone who plays the grey area is doing exactly that; playing, and while play can be fun in the short term, it can get tiresome after a while. In my opinion, questions posed with the intention of informing one’s self and engendering a healthy discussion and sharing of ideas is a great thing. Those who pose questions with the intention of expressing their disdain for behaviours they find distasteful may just as well not bother opening their big traps at all.

Having said that, letting certain taboos fall away feels right. At least it is for us, for the moment. I suspect that it may get old hat rather quickly and that we will quietly drift back into a pattern of quiet reservation, but for the meantime, the very fact that the possibilities are endless takes all the pressure off actually feeling that we are depriving ourselves of something. And that, as Martha says, is a Good Thing.

Bringin' y'all back up to speed

It’s all about priorities for me, and for the last couple weeks, blogging has unfortunately fallen to the bottom of the list. In seeking to achieve a balance between home, family, work and leisure, I found that, almost without my noticing it, staying in touch and writing a little something had fallen by the wayside. I apologize to those who spent time checking in to the blog only to leave empty handed, I appreciate knowing you are out there and take the time to check in. Things are a little more on track now.

Let’s start where we left off. In our last few episodes, ElfBear spoke of an impending gay boy dance bash know as the Leather Ball and of his and Danny’s desire to attend. Also, there was the question of the stolen car and how long it would take to get it back as well as what condition it would be in. Then, there is the ever on-going saga of The Mother of Elfbear’s Children. Roll film!

October 9th and 10th – Leather Ball; Danny and I spent a couple of weeks shopping and figuring out what we would wear for this event. Should we go over the top or skimpy (which may also be considered over the top), both extremes were permitted and, depending on the state of the body, desirable. We finally opted for middle of the road, which worked out just fine as we were just popular enough to have a nice circle of ‘friends’ to dance and play with without being overwhelmed. The music was terrific, the ambiance was incredible, we danced basically non-stop from 11:30 pm to 5:30 am. Fearing an all out revolt from my knees, I took anti-inflammatories when we got home, just before going to bed. No harm done, when I got up at 10 (that’s a.m.!) I was feeling great and ready for a nice hot cup of coffee. Danny was already up and sat me down to have a talk. Uh oh, I feared, what’s wrong? He asked me if I had had fun at the party, and following my affirmation, asked if I would consider doing the next event, the Military Ball, that evening. ‘Sure!’ said I, ‘we’re young and perky, never mind that I have to open the shop tomorrow morning and work a 9 hour shift, let’s do it!’ And do it, we did. We were a little more reasonable, coming home at 4 am, so that I could get at least three and a half hours of sleep under my belt before work. Amazingly, I performed well that day, slept deeply that night and didn’t pay too heavy a price for my debauchery. We had so much fun, we’re already planning for next year’s event. The Thanksgiving weekend is a big one here in Montréal, due in part to the Black and Blue circuit party. The Black and Blue event itself is on the Sunday evening and currently draws about 7 to 8 thousand people. Years ago, when the event was held at the Olympic Stadium, there were between 12 and 15 thousand participants. Next year is the 20th anniversary of the event and they are already announcing a return to the Stadium, which means that I will need to take that entire weekend off ‘cause, come hell or high water, we’re goin’!

As I was off on Saturday, the 10th, prepping for another all night dance fest wasn’t enough. I had to put on a Thankgiving/Birthday dinner as well. With turkey and all the trimmings. Mere hours before we were to head out again. And potatoes and cranberries. And birthday cake. Oh, didn’t I mention that it was my little sister(who’s a man)’s birthday? Chris was turning forty on the 11th but was scheduled to board a train and head out to Guelph, Ontario, to spend a week’s vacation with his long distance love, Jim, so any birthdaying was going to have to happen on the eve of. I spent the afternoon roasting and baking, tossing and simmering, listening to dance music all the while (to stay in the mood) and Chris arrived around 5. Unbeknownst to him, his boyfriend Jim and I had been emailing back and forth all week to prepare a surprise. Jim had decided to come down by train on the Saturday so that he and Chris could ride back together the next day. We stretched dinner out a little in order to be ready for cake round about the time Jim was to arrive at our house, under the cover of darkness. I had sent Jim a map with directions and a picture of the kitchen door so he knew where he was going and around 8:30, Jim texted me announcing that he was at the back door, I snuck him in and he carried the cake out to Chris as we all sang the traditional ditty. Chris promptly burst into tears. It was such a sweet scene that cake was almost unnecessary. Almost, I say; it was chocolate mousse, after all. It was the first time we were meeting Jim and I must say, we were delighted. They make a very cute couple (bookends, Danny calls them) and it was lovely to see Chris in love. Sigh

Oct 13th – I quit my job. What was supposed to a pre-retirement pastime has become a full fledged, full time job. I love the work that I do and I love the team that I have (I’ve hired them all), the ambiance is wonderful, the customers are great, the freedom and latitude I have and terrific. So why would I leave? Because of the one person here whom I did not hire and whose presence in the company predates me by 10 years. She is, for lack of a better word, an old maid. She has always lived alone and doesn’t comprehend the concept of teamwork. She has spent her entire life working in shops and boutiques, is narrow-minded and frightened of change, regressive and passive aggressive. She is a toxic person who wants everyone around her to be as unhappy as she is and she is succeeding. My boss very much takes a back seat with regards to the running of his company. Since my arrival, I’ve pretty much taken every aspect of the company in hand and have left him with very little to worry about. I’m not patting myself on the back, I don’t need to. He appreciates me and tells me so frequently. Recently, the black stain that is my co-worker, has been spreading. It has come to a point where I cannot even bear to speak with her. The previous week, she and I had words about something; the event became the last straw on a pile of last straws. That same afternoon, I received a message on my cel phone to contact so and so in the human resources department at company such and such. During an afternoon lull, I returned the call and learned that I was being courted. My name had been submitted by a head hunter (a long term acquaintance of mine) for the company, for a position that was opening up within a month. I decided to take the meeting and go find out what they had to offer. On the morning of the 13th, I sat down with my boss and calmly explained the situation, my reasons and motives for leaving. I clarified that I didn’t want to put him in a ‘it’s her or it’s me’ situation and that the most mature thing for me to do was to leave. A long discussion ensued, the conclusion of which had me calling company such and such back to withdraw from the recruiting process for personal reasons. In response to my boss’s request for me to stay on, and in light of his assurances that the problem would be dealt with in a permanent fashion, I have opted to remain ElfBear.

Oct 15th – the fateful day upon which I retrieved my car. With much trepidation, I trekked all the way out to the police impound lot where the stolen cars are kept and took possession of my baby. I had no idea what shape it was in, if the tires were flat or not, what was missing from the trunk and glove box, if there were and nicks/dents or scratches and chips in the paint. It took me almost one and a half hours to get there and another half hour to go through all the necessary paperwork before I was able to see my car. All in all, it is in good shape. The only truly visible damage are scratches to the paint that I can have removed with a compound treatment. I lost a few items from the interior, but nothing major or irreplaceable. It didn’t enjoy starting back up after such a long sojourn, some black smoke came spewing out the tail pipe for a moment or two, the brakes were squeaky for the first couple of kilometres, but, as it warmed up, things smoothed out. I’m mobile again and loving it. Phew! Just in time for the snow. The first flakes fell here two days ago, by the way. An all-out storm can’t be far behind. Put away the patio furniture and haul out the skis!

Throughout this time, my daughter has been struggling with her mother. From the moment she announced that she wanted to come live with Danny and me on a permanent basis, I could foresee the day where she would come to the realization that environment she had shared with her mother and brother was unhealthy and stressful. Lacking contrast, she was unable to compare her life at that time with her potential life in our home. Only a few weeks after her arrival, it began to dawn on her that contact with her mother was often abrasive and difficult, peppered with threats and manipulation, and replete with non-stop bombardments about my inadequacies and failings as, not only a parent, but a human being in general. Evelyne began to prefer the quiet, calm, orderly atmosphere in our home, and revile the chaotic environment that surrounded her mother. As things came to a head, I am proud to say that my daughter handled herself in a very mature fashion, communicating her feelings and fears to her mother, as well as her desire for peace. In return, she received more threats and attempts at guilt which she quickly refused to accept. She has explained to her mother that, for the time being, she does not wish to be in contact with her, that she, Evelyne, would reinitiate contact when she was ready to do so, and that attempts on her mother’s behalf to disrespect her feelings would be met with silence. My daughter is learning that parents are human too and she realizes that family does not equate friend. I am far from perfect to be certain, all I can do is accompany my daughter on her journey, lend her an ear and a shoulder and keep her talking. This child, who for years kept everything inside herself, is finally communicating, asking questions, weighing answers and making up her own mind about how she feels. In my eyes, this is the single greatest, most priceless gift she could receive at this point in her life.

Another event occurred during the past couple of weeks that is noteworthy. I posed a question. Some would say that I am foolish for having done so, considering all I have been through, but I am an eternal optimist and know in my heart that it is the right thing to do. I have asked Danny to marry me and he has accepted. On January 30th,2010, our fourth anniversary as a couple, we will be wed at the Montréal courthouse. Lucky for me, I know someone who makes beautiful wedding cakes and all he expects in return is a simple, heartfelt Thank You. Our friends Chris and David have accepted to be our witnesses and Evelyne will carry the rings. I obviously can’t wear white so I’ve opted for rainbow coloured polka dots on a white background. No veil this time round ‘cause it gets caught in my ‘stache. Oh, and I’m definitely wearing flats! Fuck the heels! It’s MY day and I’m gonna wear formal sneakers!