HAPPY and PEACEFUL new year, humbugs !

The Holidays always make me feel like an alien - everyone is getting ready to have guests over, buying gifts like mad people, and talking about the Holiday spirit - which is supposed - or so I hear - to make you feel warm and fuzzy all over and send good thoughts through the cosmos and bring everyone together - Amen. I for one struggle like hell (and I'm not the only one - if I look carefully around, there are more people trying to cope with this time of the year than there are who are actually enjoying it) to get through it - My ex-husband and I share the school holidays period over Christmas and New year's, and the kids are with him for about a week. During that period, I try to go away on vacation - which worked out fine last year when I escaped on a carribean cruise and had a wonderful, melancholy-free time - but this year, I had to take a trip in early November, not so long after by beau and I broke up, and did enjoy the time off, but in a state of mind that kept me from being "fully" there - if that makes any sense. I did get to meet lots of people, but in the end, I spent alot of time on my own and lots of time sleeping to the rythms of the ocean - and so I have to face the reality of my aversion for the Holiday period, all because it just makes me plain sad, and when I'm sad, I get self-destructive. I over-eat, over-drink, and put myself in all kinds of precarious situations - not good for a girl who usually takes good care of herself the rest of the year. So for all the single gals in the same situation - feeling painfully alone in this period - especially temporarily kidless single mums - Hang in there. Soon the kids will be back, friends will start calling again, and things will fall back into place - At least that's what I tell myself. My best wishes for 2009, and may the new year bring you peace and happiness - with a strong emphasis on PEACE.

Girls' heartaches, from Ottawa to Dubai

When you think you are the only one in pain, a friend reaches out to you and asks you for strength - the same strenght you are working very hard to find within your soul at the very moment - and, out of love, the only thing you can do is find whatever's left and send it away - in the hopes that it will return to sender - that's how love works.

Ottawa, November 2008

Girlfriend, sweet baby girl - I would tell you not to cry over such a fucking asshole but then again - you have to get it out of your system - so cry, scream, kick box, dance - do whatever it takes to get that nasty energy out of you. He's a bad apple - he will NEVER change, NEVER - so get that out of your pretty little head. YOU CAN'T FIX HIM GIRLFRIEND, ALL RIGHT??? what did you say to me last year....hum...you don't need another project...and what did I do??? I fell in love with a wonderful, fantastic man in the middle of a divorce, fucked up and battered - thinking that in the name of love I would make it all better and I would be loved in exchange - and now, after some joy, lots of sorrow and complications, ups & downs – it all just blew up in my face with "it's not you, it's me, I love you but it's not full - I need a few weeks, I need space” he was crying all the time, he was nasty to me a few times then called the next day to say he was sorry....I went to sleep on some nights wrapping myself in a cover, shivering and shaking, so I wouldn’t feel so vulnerable and lonely - you know the fucking drill - we broke up over last weekend, and still - he said to me he didn't want to lose me. I didn’t want to loose him either but he’s still walking away - FUCK THAT SHIT.
So - you, I - have a choice - we cry and torture ourselves thinking it will get better IT WON'T and we hope he will change HE WON'T and we hope that one day he will love us the way we want to be loved but as hard as it is to say it IT WON'T FUCKING HAPPEN Girlfriend - Letting go is the hardest part....but it's the part that fucking frees you, and I did it with fuckface (you remember fuckface, don't ya??), with anger, frustration, fear and the sharpest self-inflicted pain ever - this time with The Aussie I'm not even going to kick my ass - I'll just walk away - and bite the bullet - I'm going to keep busy and try to hide my pain with a smile, I’m told it works – my cousin J., who teaches social dancing in Ottawa invited me to salsa night on Saturday and I am more than happy to go and dance the pain away - she says I will have to beat interested men off with a stick - and if you think about it - it does sound good (the beating men with a stick part) and I will look for men who make me feel good about myself all over and who don’t ask me to wait, to understand, to walk away no come back no go I can’t but come back – I understand all right – I understand that I don’t understand and that is what makes me crazy.You have a choice, YOU have the power - PAIN or FREEDOM - and it is as black and white as this Girlfriend - this guy is pure POISON for you and if you don't act on it you will slowly die. Dying is not just about your heart stopping - you need light, positivism, security and PEACE. Do whatever you can to get those things, do it with a vengeance - you owe it to yourself because ain't no one gonna give it to you girl - let's talk soon - tell me when - I will be home all weekend with the kids and I will hook up my cam so we can see each other – Dubai won’t seem so far - so I'm there if you need me, tell me when.I miss you and I know that this growing up shit SUCKS BIG TIME - look at me, 36 and 2 kids and still going through the motions. I wonder sometimes why I'm not on fucking antidepressants like the rest of the mortals - maybe because I don't like to hang on to pain and want to get rid of it??? I send you this message from my quiet government office and I give you a big hug - hang in there Girlfriend - you're a survivor just like me, you just need a few more years of practice…

I love you babes
Your friend Bridges

Balancing on the narrow edge (2)

It’s only 5:30, but I hate getting ready at the last minute. It’s a process I like to enjoy at my own pace, so I tend to make it last. Standing in front of my wardrobe, half-dressed in black undergarments and stockings, I pick out my shoes before picking out my clothes, trying to ignore the revolting hunger sounds of my growling stomach. I choose a pair of black elegant shiny high-heel vertigo-inducing boots and put them on – without making a thread in my stockings, which is an exploit in itself – my favourites. Elegant, classy, but more importantly, sexy as hell. Perfect to make me look like a mysterious vamp for tonight’s date with Christophe. He’ll only be thinking of one thing when he sees me walking in those boots – having me for desert. Now I only need a dress that won’t make me look too obvious. Come to think of it, when I go on a date, I always end up wearing those boots – for some reason, they seem to answer an existential question which meaning eludes me. I sometimes wear them to write – I feel like I’m walking in someone else’s shoes, and that, my friends, makes my work a lot easier.

Tell us a story, Bridges!

...oh, all right. But you have to promise this : You will not ask me if this story is real or not. It's a real story, all right? Plus, it's not a story for kiddies, so children, go to bed. This is Sophie's story. Here goes.

Balancing on the narrow edge

Going out and risking it on frozen Montreal sidewalks is not an easy task – particularly in high heels. But not to worry – I made up my mind, nothing can stop me. Plus, if I’m gonna come a cropper, I will do it with style and all the feminine grace that inhabits me – braving glazed frost and biting cold will never have looked so good, baby.

I’m getting ready for a date. I’m excited and nervous – I have never felt this way before a date with Christophe, but this time, it’s a bit different. I have to meet him at his place, downtown, around 7 pm. He is taking me out to dinner in a chic neighbourhood restaurant he goes to from time to time. I’m famished, and looking forward to eating whatever Christophe picks out for me on the menu – he loves to do that, and since he has impeccable taste in everything, from food to clothes all the way to women – he is French after all - I don’t mind letting him have his fun and letting go a little; actually, I quite enjoy the whole control game thing, I’m a good sport, and I know it will be delicious. Christophe knows his food and is quite the snob type when it comes to service and preparation – did I mention he’s French - and I have to be honest with you; I get a big kick out of it.

I love to be guest & lover to a man who has high quality standards – Makes me feel luxurious.

Divorce terrorism 101

Oh, the tangled webs we weive in divorce. It's not enough to deal with your own pain, sorrow, regrets and anger - you often have to put up with a person you don't understand / love/want around anymore whose main goal in life becomes the constant aggravation and persecution of thee. I was relatively lucky in my divorce - First of all, I was the instigator and not the "victim", and that plays a big part in the whole thing, and was clever enough to steer the process without loosing too many assets. My psychological state - well, that's a whole other story all together - was in shambles, but I worked it through, got help, and managed to save my life and preserve my children's. I was the sole caregiver to my babies, and their father became the every other weekend dad (more so when we moved from Montreal to Ottawa 3 years ago) much to his displeasure and dismay. I wear, still to this day, the stigma of the ex-wife bitch, if the shoe fits, I say, even though the relationship with the father of my children was more of an avoidance of one than anything else - conversations were always very short and impersonnal, limited to "when are you picking up the kids" and "Have a good weekend" with lots of underlying tensions tinted with resentment and blame on his part, and contempt and anger from mine. 7 years have passed since then mind you, so the pain and anger are not as vivid as they used to be - and the recent tug-o-war in court did play a part in reducing his animosity towards me - he took me to court to reduce his child support payments and won - the fact that I was travelling 3 times a year, driving a new car, taking the kids to Universal Studios (because I was now a professional translator, which I was not at the time of the divorce, I was a penny-less stay at home mom) did not help him to see me in a positive light or do anything to make me more likeable - who cares if I was raising the children by myself all the time, with all the expenses, in time & money, that it implies - I don't think his brain would allow him to see it that way - he kept on seeing me as the bitch who ran off to Ottawa with his kids and managed to eat a big chunk of his (however impressive) paycheck. Him winning in court though, I think , did damper lots of animosity directed towards me - it was hard for me but hey, can't win everytime, all is fair in love and war - finally, he had actually WON something against yours truly - therefore injecting a little viagra in his self-esteem - and enough water had passed under the Bridges to give me enough perspective on things, therefore being able to look back and clearly see where I had gone wrong, where I had acted to save my own mental sanity and when I had felt justified to channel the amazon in me - and of course, my share of responsibilities in the whole messy thing. With time, I can honestly say that my ex-husband acted responsibly most of the time, and that he was (and is) a good father, but a terrible, terrible husband. And notwithstanding this "amende honorable", I still can't stand him. But I can live with it.

Panick attack

There are many reasons why a person decides to blog - it's all over the Web, actually - everyone feels the need to display, to tell a story, to become a character in their own little recreation of their lives. I'm no exception. There is a need there to expose myself in public for reasons that still elude me - and are probably far less glamorous and intricate than I would like to think. My reasoning on the whole question is that I need to write, I simply have to, and to see myself through the eyes of strangers - even if they don't manifest themselves, I know that they're there and that perhaps someone, somewhere, will catch something that I didn't see, that I didn't want to reveal or in the least, will they just feed my need to justify my own insecurities. There is a comfort in thinking your own self-righteousness is being validated - every time you post something, another brick goes up - how convenient to build a wall around you, thick with words and justifications that no one can erase or prove wrong - how could they really, a text is a text and only belongs to its author - the reader can take it or shove it - it's indestructible in a way - oh, and if you don't believe me, please refer to the fine print - it's a wall so big and real it's available on the Web - and there for all to see just in case they didn't understand what you were/are all about.

I think my wall is just about to fall apart - Someone just might have seen right through it.

The cowboy & the nutcase

Do you remember a few months ago - I mentionned meeting an american cowboy from Kansas city - uprooted and now living in Minneapolis - on my last cruise to the carribean?

This was end of February, early March - after entertaining the idea of a long-distance "relationship" for a few weeks following the cruise and talking via webcam almost every night, he invited me over to his place and sent me a plane ticket, making sure I didn't have any endless lay-overs, shelling out an extra two hundred dollars to get me a direct flight . "Let's see how this could be in real life, he said. We'll both be working during the day, this wouldn't be a vacation - but we could spend our evenings together - just like a REAL couple, in REAL life." What I didn't know at that point - is that he didn't have one. My cowboy had no life whatsoever.

A few days before my departure to Minneapolis - in the dead of winter, mind you - Rose & Justin were spending their March break with their father - we had a webcam conversation that left me panicked. From what I remember, I asked him about his personnal history with his previous wife/girlfriend: - "why did she leave baby, what happened?"- some random piece of information any sensible woman flying 3,000 miles to spend a week in her virtual boyfriend's high-rise condo in the American mid-west and concerned with her personnal safety would be concerned about - anything, really - anything to give her a reason not to get on that plane, to bail out, you know what, it's not a good idea after all, let's just stop this here, shall we? Thank you, it was fun, see you on a next cruise perhaps - yes he seems nice but he might be a psychopath kind of thing - just give me a reason to not go through with this, will ya? - Any evasive ready-made conventional answer would have been ok really, would have made me feel like I was dealing with a semi-normal human being - so I was there, at the other end of the webcam, watching him, waiting for him to answer something, anything - but instead, his eyes turned mean, he fumbled, pointed his finger at me via the magical world of cyber communications and screamed at me. "That's not of your fucking business! Stop asking me these questions! You poke, and poke, and you don't shut up! What difference does it make! You bitches are all the same! You always need to get your way!" I was startled - horrified - and started crying. "what...D...I didn't mean to...why are you so mean to me...what did I say..." and then he made a hand gesture that meant "whatever ", looked at the computer screen, and in a fit of rage, unplugged the webcam, therefore ending abruptly our surreal conversation. Now that's a first - I've never had a guy hang up on me live on camera. Not pretty. And totally uncalled for. I just layed there in my bed, laptop on my thighs, stunned - and worried. What the fuck is up with that dude???

At that moment, red lights were flashing in my mind, and alarms were going off like crazy. RED ALERT - CRAZY NUTCASE ON THE RADAR - I was not going to Minneapolis anymore. No fucking way.

Three days later, my friend was driving me to the aiport - Montreal to Minneapolis-St.Paul. To this day I don't know what kept me going. I was scared as hell. But I had to go and see for myself.

There she is - Happy, traveling Bridges - at the Delta airlines bagage check-in, laptop in case, in a state of mind I like to call fully conscious denial, happy to be flying somewhere - anywhere - with a smile on my face.

Regardless.

Butterfly not

How long does it take for the caterpillar to change into a butterfly? A few days? A few weeks? A few months, perhaps?

Well in the case of this blog, and of my whole reality into fiction interpretation of one's self, a few months seems just about right. Like many bloggers lost in cyberspace, I lost my train of thought for a few months and unshamelessly abandonned Suspended Bridges for a while. We had a horribly long winter here in Ottawa, life got hectic, and I Facebooked instead of blogspotting. I didn't run out of things to say; just the opposite. I might have temporarily lost interest in my own self-observation and things were unfolding at such a pace that I couldn't even keep up with myself, so, ummm...I bailed.

Too many things went on. Couldn't keep up.

Butterfly reference. Oh yeah. I really don't want to give into that whole butterfly / metaphorical lyricism / transformation crap into much detail, because I can't be arsed to go into a symbolic analysis of the weird things that pop into my head - that's my therapist's job, thank you very much - but I will still mention it since that's the image that popped into my head as I'm slowly emerging from a writing coma. And at the risk of sounding tacky and/or very cliché, I do feel different than I did 5 months ago - caterpillar managed not to get squished after all - and I won't go as far as saying I'm ready to open up my wings and fly - fly, damn butterfly, fly - BUT I will say this :

It feels damn good to be out of that fucking chrysalid. T'was getting crowded in there.

Dinnerworks Ottawa takes the cake...and tries to eat it too

Ottawa is a very dry place to look for a boyfriend/lover/man, especially when you're an independant single gal with a few marks on your belt and that you have some (very limited, mind you) expectations. Travelling to other cities and meeting men whilst abroad (you don't need to go too far for that matter, Toronto & Montreal are not so far away geographically, yet they seems like a completely different planet when it comes to seducing the opposite sex) always makes returning to Ottawa a very, very harsh return to reality. Last week, after coming back from the cruise and filled with a new outlook on meeting people & relationships (call it the loveboat high) I decided to give Dinnerworks Ottawa another try. Last time was not too conclusive. Make up your own mind...This is a letter I sent to Dinnerworks the day after the meeting. I had spent the evening with the Professor (which you already know about) and a lovely sophisticated lady that was just about as disapointed as I was.

Hello,

Just a quick word to let you know how disappointed I was when (almost) no one showed up at the dinner last night….It was only me, Mary, and this person that shall remain nameless...let's call him circus freak for informative purposes...by the way, WHY oh God WHY does someone like that show up at one of those dinners…I don’t want to be mean or rude or anything, but this guy is one step away from being an escapee from a mental facility….he has no job, has an IQ of about Forest Gump’s average, was popping anti-depressants at the dinner table and is quite revolting-looking….(In another words, when you think you’ve hit the bottom of the barrel men-wise, look under the barrel…) I thought Dinnerworks was for professionals….He has attended many dinners as I have learned from your charming hostess (who was very professional btw) but PLEASE…if nobody else ever shows up at your dinners again...please take a hint that this quality of people attending might, just might be a MAJOR turn-off for future guests…men & women alike….It is very insulting for the women present…to be paired up with circus freaks when you are expecting to meet "professionals"...

Thank God the Professor showed up 40 minutes late; we managed to have a pleasant dinner, me, the Professor & Mary (the other person was pretty much shut out unfortunately; it was quite embarrassing)

I would like to be reimbursed the 59$ that I paid to attend the dinner; and I don’t plan to attend another dinner unless I am sure that this creepy-looking gentleman is not present and that there will actually be PEOPLE there to have a conversation with.

Regards,
Bridges L.

And this is what they answered back.

Bridges,

I am sorry to hear that only 4 people showed up. There was 8 people on the list to attend dinner. If people show up or not is beyond our control. It is often that people have last minute commitments and do not notify us that they will not be attending. We cannot reimburse you but we can send you to another dinner free of charge (but you will have to pay for your own meal). I look forward to hearing from you.

OK. Whatever. That was back in September, so I kinda forgot about it, until I got an email asking if I wanted to come to the dinner that was organized in three days; I made sure that the men invited were not the same people than last time (God forbid) and accepted the invitation. 24 hours later however, I learned that I had to head off to Toronto ASAP and therefore could not attend the dinner. So, I did what a sophisticated polite lady would do; I sent an email informing them of my absence.

I'm sorry I won't be able to attend as I have to leave for Toronto unexpectedly on Thursday - sorry about that

And the next day, which was THE day of the dinner and of my leaving for Toronto, this is what I got in my mailbox.

From: Dinnerworks Ottawa [mailto:ottawa@dinnerworks.ca]
Sent: 17 janvier 2008 15:56
To: Bridges L.
Subject: You were very upset the last time when people cancelled on us

We had a really great group of men organized for tonight and you have made it difficult for us to find a substitute.

Sorry you can't attend but please understand that this is not good for us or the people that will be attending the dinner tonight.

I thought I would just forward our correspondence from before as we explained what happens at our end.

And with that she attached all the emails that I had sent her previously stating my utmost discontent with their services. How rude, I thought. First I get screwed by going to a dinner where no one shows up, ok, fine, I can live with my dispoinment, I understand these things happen, but hey; I'M THE CLIENT HERE AND I GET THE LAST WORD. I don't want the girl from the company that's supposed to woo me into attending the dinner giving me grief about not attending AND giving them proper notice in doing so. Please. This is what I answered.

I am very sorry – I learned yesterday that I have to leave this pm for Toronto and believe me - a dinner sounds a lot more interesting to me than a rushed flight…

I had the decency of actually telling you I was not attending – as opposed to just not showing up – like the majority of people do…on one occasion I got there late (10 minutes) and the hostess had left and I had nowhere to sit….and the other one there was simply nobody there except a circus freak and someone I had met before. Now excuse me for taking offense; I didn’t plan to attend in the first place, was offered to and wanted to but something came up, and I don’t think I make it difficult for anyone since….this was only set up 3 days ago…give me a break…if women don’t attend it’s because your dinners are usually lame and there’s a slim chance of maybe meeting someone who got lost along the way and decided to try Dinnerworks without previous feedback from anyone...I can’t believe you are giving me grief for telling you in advance I was not going to be there. Your lack of professionalism is quite disturbing.

I do not wish to attend anymore dinners by Dinnerworks; please take my name off the list and keep whatever money I paid you to buy the people attending tonight a stiff drink to get them through what will most likely be a disappointing evening.

Regards,
Bridges L.

For some reason, I don't think I'll be hearing from them again.

Love boat blues

Sapphire beach in St. Thomas

I have been back for almost a week now. This was the first time I went to the carribean in the dead of winter. Coming into Ottawa and seeing the snow on the ground was a definite bummer. I turned to the guy next to me and started pouting - like a little girl who just dropped her ice cream cone on the sidewalk - except this ice cream cone had just spilled all over the Lester B. Pearson tarmac.

I had the most amazing time on the cruise. Time flies when you're having a blast...With stops in the Bahamas, St. Thomas and my favorite, St. Marteen's...this was a party to remember - Met up with all my cruise buddies, Al, Matt, Beth & Cindy, met some new friends, got to dress up for theme parties, spent most of the week with a cocktail in one hand and a beach bag in the other - and, just like last time I went on a singles cruise...met someone. A sexy 6'4 midwestern cowboy from Kansas settled in Minneapolis.

Where is Minneapolis, exactly?

"...soon will be making another run..."

I have been busy, busy, busy, like never before. So many things are happening. New jobs, new contracts, perhaps a new house, and waddaya know, Lee - the not-so ingenious engineer - father of my children, is taking me to court because he thinks he pays too much child support. Bastard.

Whatever. I hired a pitbull-lawyeress and will see him in court on January 16th. The hell with em', I say.

Meanwhile, I will be spending the next week on the Carnival Valor, in the carribean, with my cruise buddies. I plan to have lots of fun, to put it lightly.

When I get back, I'm starting everything anew (as you can already see it's started already :))

Happy new year to all my friends, known and unknown, all over the world.

B.

Bumps in the road

I bumped into the Lieutenant last weekend; walked straight passed him at the Heart & Crown, didn't even notice him. He, on the other hand, stopped me by putting his hand on my shoulder as I was walking out. I was with Keith, and we just had a few pints. He was sitting at the bar with one of his buddies.

-Hey there Bridges; how are you?

-Oh! er...hi...

-How was your dinner?

-My dinner?

(For some reason I thought he was referring to my diner with another beau, i.e. the Professor. An awkward silence ensues. Penny drops.)

-Oh! My dinner....the dinner at my place, three weeks ago....yes...well it was great, I served lobster, we all got drunk, everybody had a blast.

-That's great.

We both smile. His buddy, whom I had never seen before, looks at me, then at Keith, and says to the Lieutenant : "You guys work together???"

Awkward silence again. Lieutenant looks at Keith with a cheeky smile; someone's who suspects something fishy is going on, and replies.

-No; we met at the Lieutenant's Pump, you know, on Elgin. So Keith, how's your wife?

-She's a bit hungover actually; we had a late night. We're on our way to meet her.

I look at him and say nothing. I just smile unawaringly. Another awkward silence. Enough. That's my cue to wave the boys goodbye.

-It was nice to see you; you boys play nice, now!

I wink at the Lientenant whilst merrily walking out. Keith follows me out the door.

- Your guy just gave me that look....

- What look?

- The look of the guy who suspects another guy of having an affair!

- What????

- Everytime we bump into him, we're alone together, Bridges...and he gives me that smile...

- Well he knows you're Monica's husband...Surely he doesn't think....No...really????

Keith looks at me and shrugs his shoulders.

That can't be good for either of us.

Souvenirs d'enfance au goût du jour

Moi aussi je me fais éditeur.

Merci à la 'vraie' Martine pour le lien :)

Meet the Professor

A few weeks ago, as you may remember, I met a very nice gentleman, a British gentleman for that matter, who works as a prominent professor & researcher at Carleton University. On our first time out together, we had a wonderful time, chatted alot and ackowledged a mutual interest. But as the evening went on, he got a little drunk (I think he must have drunk about 5 or 6 wine glasses; I guess he was nervous) and transformed into Dr. Jekyll right before my eyes. From the perfectly courteous professor talking about his life in England and the reasons that got him here, stranded in Ottawa, ( I told him not to worry; everybody is stranded in Ottawa, mind you) he transformed into a gutsy ladies' man with nothing to loose - He blurted out I'd like to fuck your brains out at some point - cue to my jaw dropping - me not knowing how to reply. Up to that point, I was having a perfectly non-sexual and interesting conversation with the most interesting man I had met in a long time - and not waiting for a reply from my part , he kissed me passionately - over the table and his 6 empty wine glasses at Big Daddy's. I was not expecting such a hot & heavy turn of situation at that point of the evening, but to my own surprise, I was quite turned on by such a curveball. I'm usually the one who shocks and I love to be caught with my guard down. It doesn't happen very often.

Trop féministe?

Stéphanie, my office colleague told me that I'm too feminist because I said that social bonds between genders are always, always implied in any type of social relation whatsoever.

Perhaps I am.