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.

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.

Irony, life is all about irony

I have been crazy-busy in the last few days. I am looking to buy a new house, looking to find a new job, and possibly if I'm lucky, a new boyfriend. (actually I never really stop doing that - I just pretend I'm not). Various events occured which contributed to point me in the right direction; I have found a great new house not too far from where I live, so the kids don't have to change school (of all the things I really can not be arsed to do is go through one year - yes, one year - of the trials & tribulations of uprooted children...it is quite unecessary) a new-build townhouse, with 3, yes, three complete bathrooms and a lovely fireplace and an open-space kitchen and dining room - my dream come true - that could be ready as soon as next March. I'm a happy camper.

Then, job-wise, I have been offered a few opportunities, all of which were interesting, but not enough to get me out of Kopinski. Plus, when Mr. Kopinski heard I was looking to better my situation, he offered me a raise, a pass for the indoor parking (see previous post), tickets for a popular show in town and somehow, the documents I have been getting lately are much more interesting then what I'm used to. Plus, I kinda like the guy. He puts up with my diva-ish behaviour from time to time, and it makes me feel at home. And it doesn't hurt that I had a $500 bonus on my paycheck this week. Thank you Mr. Kopinski; I love to feel the appreciation, especially when you put it that way.

Love-wise, two weeks ago, I had the pleasure of meeting a very interesting chap. I sometimes go to these single dinners for professionals downtown Ottawa, just for the sake of it. It's not very often that I get to meet people I would like to see again, but last time, I met a rocket-scientist, quite litteraly. He's British, arrived last January, is an engineering professor & researcher at a prominent university in town and is quite charming. Can you believe my luck???? A single Englishman in Ottawa??? Well cut my leg and call me shorty.

We have a date tonight. Café Paradiso.

Tomorrow, rugby finals.

Life is good.

In praise of cold showers

Who says romance is dead?

This morning in my mailbox. At 9 h 30.

Bonjour Bridges,

Hopefully you had a great Sunday! And that you managed to reorganize your house... :)

(An unexpected desire to clean & reorganize my house on Sunday was my - sad but true - reason for not wanting to see my aspiring prétendant monégasque on Sunday)

In regards to our Friday evening, I hope I didn't provoke something you didn't want to do … !! I wouldn't want you to think I'm one of those obnoxious parisian men you spoke to me about!

(What parisian men? I remember telling him my story of the danish father met briefly in Paris who tried to stick his tongue in my mouth whilst holding his 6 month old baby in one arm - after a one hour conversation about family, Canada and Denmark - cue to Bridges running away in disgust from the parisian café - but I swear, I have nothing no more personnal dirt about parisian men - but give me a few minutes, I'm sure I could make some up)

I enjoyed that sexual relationship with you on Friday night but I felt a certain hesitation during the act...which is very normal because you don't know me very well.

(WHAT!!!!!!!!!!)

By the way, I have to tell you that I went through a complete STD testing in the last few weeks (blood test, analyse, urinary tract) and ALL (yes, that was underlined) the tests were negative.

(THANK GOD FOR THAT!!!!!!)


Next time I see you, if you decide you ever want to see me again, I will bring the original documents proving the results.

(Don't worry mate; Somehow, now I don't see that happening.)

Despite everything, I don't want to see you again just for the sex, and I enjoyed the time I spent with you in bed and I think your work and your life are very interesting.

Plus, you are very funny and I had a lot of fun discussing with you.

(Thank you luv, er...spread the word?)

Call me whenever you want...anytime..really, anytime, day or night...I enjoyed talking to you...and I don't think for a second that you are like this obsessive girl who stalked me for a week that I told you about... :)

(ER...HELP?!)

OK. Now, please don't see this as a way of thrashing a man's interest in yours truly with floods of sarcasm in the name of self defense triggered by fear of...of....but...

Right about now, I feel like the flicker on the candle as it's being extinguishded by Niagara Falls. And a bit worried that I'm going to be stalked for a week.

I think my unconscious might be sending me signals from the depths. I can feel wires connecting as I write.

(There goes my mobile - well waddaya know - it's the guy who was stalked for a week by an obsessive GIRL - Look at me NOT picking up the phone)

This may be my unconscious talking, but I really feel the urge to watch an old western musical comedy starring Bernadette Peters with the killer, um, title.

3h25 PM : Another phone call. Another message.
3h27 PM : Another phone call. This time from a 'private number'
3h45 PM : Another email.

I think the kids & will be going out tonight.

Lobster feast & unexpected courtship

Everything is ready.

Rose & Justin helped me do the shopping and get everything ready for tonight's dinner party. Rose picked out each lobster that would be executed in honour of our guests out of the shop's aquarium; Justin couldn't get over the fact that we were actually counting on eating those creepy looking things. 'Mum...I want chicken, ok? Are you sure you don't want to try sweetie? They taste much more delicious than they look you know! The look on his face told me he wasn't convinced. Chicken it is, then. He was way more interested by the sweets in the near-by counter.

As of now, I'm still working on Justin picking up the mountains of Lego that are scattered on the basement floor. I set up the guest bed as well; Surely Monica & Keith will spend the night. There's no way they will be able to make it back to their place after we empty out all the wine bottles that the guests are sure to bring.

Heads up on the start of my weekeend. Well. I went to a dinner party on Thursday (yes, another one, it is the weekend of dinner parties, apparently) and...kinda met someone. A very charming engineer (yes, just like my ex-husband, Lee, but this one actually has a personnality) from Monaco (European!!!! Hurray!!!) who set up shop in Ottawa, believe it or not. Quite interesting, really : he works for the national defense, flies helicopters, was a war pilot in the Gulf war in the early 90's and spends weekends in the south of France from time to time. GREAT accent :) Hum. We met on Thursday, had a blast, he asked for my number, called me up on Friday morning; Friday evening, he came over to my place with a dozen red roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other (European men have got it going on, girls, let me tell you) by 11 o'clock we were snogging on my purple couch, and this morning he called me up to find out if I had slept well (like a baby, thank you very much, I said, blushing as I was sipping my coffee) and if I was busy on Sunday evening. Needless to say, I can't keep up with the pace of things. Er...Sunday? Well, er, don't know, let me see...(why is it so easy to bitch about men not calling us girls back when we want it so badly to happen and so difficult to deal with when it does happen?)

Sigh....There are lovely roses on my dinner table....

My guests will be here in a few hours.

Did I mention I invited Arthur?

Meet the lieutenant

Every woman has been through a similar experience. You hang out in a pub, you drink up; a pint of Guinness, a G&T with lots of G, a few laughs and a sense of adventure. Then, the gorgeous man who you've been giving the eye to for the past months finally decides to follow the hints you have been sending oh-so discreetly at first, until you are as discreet as a Harley-Davidson zooming down your street at 7 in the morning. You can no longer be ignored, and there's no turning back. (I should know, it happens to me everyday. Damn bikers.)

Anywho. You get the picture(s).

Last Friday I was having a few pints with my friends at Lieutenant's pump (Hence the title; give me credit for creative character naming, please) When I had my first "real" encounter with the hunkiest, most handsome man I have ever seen walking down the streets of Ottawa. (Well usually when I see him, he is seated at the bar or on the terrace, but let's not get fussy with the details, shall we?) I was having such a good time at the bar with my buddies that I didn't even have time to get nervous or shy away when he came to sit next to me. I was just giddy, and yes, sue me, very flirty. Couldn't help it. He's just so yummy.

The lieutenant is one of those guys who can officially say they have been single all their lives. Behold the hardcore bachelors: early forties (the salt & pepper hair is more peppery than salty at this point) Hot bods (they have time to go to the gym, they have maids and eat out all the time) great careers (here in Ottawa it's usually in the public service or in IT), messy flats (the maid cleans but doesn't pick up stuff, she wouldn't know where to put it anyway), serial monogamists (no kids but a long list of ex-girlfriends, usually now living in a different city or country) and an maxed-out alpha male attitude to turn on any woman in her normally kooky state of mind, i.e. me, Bridges, a sucker for loveable jerks. But I'm working on it.

SO!

As I was walking back to my car on Saturday morning, trying to figure out where the hell did I park that thing, I was wondering...

Do I still respect him?

Oh yeah.

And yes, um, I would respect him again. :)

One girl, one guy Part IV

As soon as I saw him, I knew there was something there. Catherine introduced me, and my gentleman soldier immediately pulled up a bar stool for me, right next to him, (I was very careful and looked around to see if anybody COULD HAVE been sitting there before, surely I didn't want to step on anybody's open-toe shoes, but I figured, with this man around, trailer-trash blondie wouldn't dare pick up a fight with me) asked me if I wanted a drink, yes, thank you, cranberry-vodka please, and ordered for me. I thought he was quite sexy. He was the rugged type, fair-headed, short beard, and very muscular, with shoulders to make any woman feel secure. I smiled and he did the same. I immediately wanted to snuggle in his arms, and soon enough, we were getting closer to chat, because, you know, the music was so loud, I couldn't hear him, and I just HAD to get closer.

-Bridges. Zhat's a lovely name. Vhat do you do, Bridges?
-Thank you! I'm a translator, from English to French. What about you?
-French! I love French...I think it's similar to German in many vays...My name is Hans...me and Huey here...

I look at Huey. He waves, smiles, and goes back to his conversation with Catherine.

...are army pilots. Ve just finished a two-week training in Cold Lake. Ve're going back to Germany on Monday.

-Oh! Wow. So you have a whole weekend to spend in Montreal?

He smiles at me and looks straight into my eyes. Then he gently pulls the stool (with me on top) closer to him, and whispers in my ear Yes! Vould you like to show me around?

I bite on my straw, take a big sip and smile, whilst lifting an eyebrow.

-I would love to!

And we toast to a night still young.

Two girls (and two German military jet pilots) Part III

Under "Les Beaux Jeudis", there's Thursday's, (yes, I know, it's a fourth day of the week concept, don't need to be a translator to figure that one out) a Montreal institution known for, well, picking up and partying, basically. Yes, some might say that the whole Montreal island serves that purpose, but that bar on Crescent street has been there a long time and has lived up to its reputation. That's where Catherine and I headed after our delicious meal and unbridaled jazz adventure.

We sat at the bar for a few minutes, ordered drinks, chatted, and had a look around. Catherine was on fire; she circled the place a few times sniffing for worthy testosterone only to figure out that it was better for us to go downstairs, where the club is and the dancing takes place. I was happy just to sit there and wait for something to happen, but there we were already, on the dance floor, gettin' jiggy with it. I lost Catherine at some point, and since it was very crowded, tried to find somewhere I could sit. There was an empty stool at the end of one of the bars; about 10 drinks were standing in front of it. I walked over and I sat down, ordered a drink, and basically watched the action. After 10 minutes, somebody tapped me on the shoulder. Some huge-assed blond girl looking like she just walked out of the trailer-thrash makeover salon says to me, in a nasty tone : "Chus r'venue, là!!" (I'm back now!)

I look at her in dismay and, being a little slow from all the cosmos I drank up to this point, don't react, and, silly me, smile, and try to start a conversation with my toosh still on the stool. Big mistake. "Aille - kècé qu'tu comprends pas, esti? chus r'venue, faque dégage - Cé ma place, câlisse!" (Hey - what is it that you don't understand, (insert swear word)? I'm back, so fuck off - it's my place, (insert other swear word) ok?)

Here, see Bridges getting up, off the bar stool, doing a little bow, a cheeky reverence, and replying, in a mocking tone "Madâmeuh, votre banc." (Madam, your stool. (which takes a whole other meaning in English, but let's not go there, even though if I was a nasty girl I would have stuck her face in it. But I'm not. I, ladies & gentlemen, am a LADY. Sometimes.) And left her nagging loudly to her friends about how the stupid girl on HER bench wouldn't get up when SHE said so and how she bravely confronted the menacing intruderess, and you-go-girl! sent her on her way, that bitch, hahahahaha, and gulf down the rest of her beer bottle. I think she burped loudly but maybe that was just my imagination implying so. I could still hear her high-pitched Brossard-accent toned voice through the loud dance music as I was walking away from the potential hazard; and oh, waddaya know, there was Catherine grabbing me by the arm.

"Two German pilots, one cute, for me, the other one with shoulders built for you Bridges - They're buying me a drink - this way!"

German pilots? That's the most interesting subject of the evening. My interest is peeked - where to, my friend?

Two girls, part II

We come up the stairs to "Les Beaux jeudis", where a friend of Catherine's is playing tonight. It's a nice restaurant, not too "chi-chi", the food is good and the jazz is usually top notch. As we walk in, I notice a very handsome man sitting at the bar; he smiles, nods, and I do the same. The maitre D' takes us immediatlely to our table, next to the jazz quartet. The pianist recognizes Catherine, and ackowledges her presence. Our waiter brings us our menus and orders our drinks straight away, just as we are settling down.

-The man at the bar is staring at you.

-I know....

-Are you going to talk to him?

-I'm not getting up; if he wants to talk and he's a gentleman, then, he'll come and say hi. I smiled at him when we got in. He knows I wouldn't mind.

Catherine laughs out loud and hi-fives me.

Throughout dinner, the mysterious guy at the bar and I exchange glances. He remains all the way over there, at the bar, and I stay put. Between sets, the pianist comes to sit with us and has a chat with Catherine; something about "the good ol' days" that I'm absolutely no part of. I'm bored, and I wish Mr. mysterious but somehow glued to his bar stool would come and talk to me.

He doesn't. After exchanging looks for about 1 hour, he pays his bill at the bar, looks at me one last time, and waves good bye. What? That's it??? Oh well. Another one bites the dust, I think. Not too long after the guy leaves, our waiter, a very handsome young black man, who saw the whole scene, comes to me and whispers, looking straight into my eyes, "What an idiot. He is a fool to pass up a beautiful lady like yourself", kisses my hand, takes our plates away, and leaves. I didn't see that one coming, I said to Catherine.

-You never see the good ones, I have to do all the work for you!

-I'm more than happy to let you do the scouting, my dear. I'll just stay here and finish my Cosmo, thank you very much.

Catherine smiles, and I can see she is a woman with a plan. I haven't seen my friend so vibrant in a long time, I have to say. It makes me happy to see her so in tune and I'm ready, yet a bit scared (Catherine is known for pulling stunts in public places that could make headlines in the mondane column, but not to worry) to let her lead. Tonight, I feel a lot more comfortable to follow.

Two girls, part I

Come on! We're going to be late!

My friend Catherine takes forever to get ready. For some reason, her hard-core feminist habits of not wearing makeup, high heels or shaving her legs, for that matter, had to end tonight. I watched her all evening, waxing, exfoliating, hearing her scream, swear with all the québécois swear words you can possibly imagine, pulling on these little wax bands. "How do women do that? It's a nightmare!!!" "It is, I said, that's why I let my beautician take care of it!" I was already ready to go; I, for one wanted to go out. Tonight, not tomorrow. It was Saturday, I was feeling very good, ready to have a good time and had plenty of money in my pockets to do so. Plus, I was starving. I needed food. I was standing in the doorway, my purse in my hand and my car keys in the other, looking at her rumaging all over the place. I was getting impatient.

-Ok, Ok...I'm ready now....oh non...wait...

And she dashes upstairs to get God-knows-what.

-I'll wait for you in the car!!!

Ten minutes later, as I was listening to an 80's music CD a co-worker had burned for me in the car, she comes out the door, wearing different clothes then 10 minutes earlier. She gets in the car, finally. I give her the exasperated friend look.

-I'm sorry! But you know what Bridges? You know what? You do that to me all the time!

(not true)

-You look great now! Beautiful. Gorgeous. Every man will want a piece of you. Let's go!!

-You're not that shabby yourself!

(Shabby? Ok, perhaps she didn't use the word "shabby". Maybe she said "pas pire", as in "Toi aussi, t'es pas pire pentoute!")

And we head out to Crescent street, where we're hoping to find food, good looking men, music, and dancing. Not necessarily in that particular order.

Romancing the california stud-muffin, part II

The view from my balcony, the morning after

The second night we saw each other, neither of us had actually planned for. Well, at least, that's what I tell myself and whoever is willing to believe me. I woke up quite early in the morning, and went outside on the balcony to admire the beautiful, tranquil caribean sea. "This balcony was soooo worth it" I told my roommate. "It was! It was!" my roomate is from Prairie town, Kansas or something, and she has this Dorothy quality that made her look, well, a bit dumbstruk throughout the day. Sweet girl, really. So fresh off the farm in fact I think if I squeezed her hard enough in the right places she would actually squirt milk. 26, long, blond hair, virtually no make-up, pure as the driven snow (is there snow in Kansas? I think not.) and all the guys on the cruise were after her. To me, she was about as sensual as an Ottawa parkmeter; but then again, what do I know. She had guys all over her. Come to think of it, they were probably all fantasizing about deflowering the virgin Kansas child and have Dorothy scream out "there's no place like home!" Ok, enough of the wicked witch of the west attitude; I liked her, she was genuinely sweet. Gotta hate those prairie girls :)

So there, it was morning, I was on the balcony and loving every minute of it. The warm wind, the sound of the waves, the privacy (people couldn't see you from anywhere, unless they were in another ship crossing us). I could just imagine myself naked, laying on the mattress, feeling the motion of the ocean. "That's it" I told Dorothy. "I'm sleeping here tonight." I looked at the mattress, it was a single of course, and I mentally fitted it on the balcony. "Perfect" I thought. This will be a night to remember. Of course, I had a lusty little plan in mind. I had to lure my california stud-muffin back to my cabin.

The day went about on the ship and I didn't see him for the whole day. I almost forgot about him, there was about a hundred hunky men on that boat, especially crew men walking around in their uniforms, pardon my drool, but that night, at dinner, I saw him looking at me from accross the room. (ooooo pardon that romantic cliché...now, in a low-tone voice...Their eyes met accross the room...at that moment.... they knew....they knew...) I knew at that moment I just had to have him again. I couldn't help it; he was just so...so...edible! Must have been the carribean air. Or the rocking of the boat. Or maybe my lusty plan just got the better of me. You have to admit it; it was, indeed, a very good plan.

That night at the disco, we didn't dance for long. I saw my roommate Dorothy, surrounded by horny boys, gushing and smiling, having a good time, and decided this was the time to act. Quickly, I grabbed him by the hand, and took him out of there, to my cabin, and out on the balcony. "Make yourself useful sweetie" I told him, wanking the mattress out to the balcony, and throwing all the covers and the pillows in his face. He just looked at me and smiled. "So , I guess we're sleeping out there tonight!" "Not if I can help it!" I said, cheekily.

I don't know what it was, but let me tell you, this was the most fun I had in a long, long time. We both couldn't stop saying "wow...this is great...." my california lover was speechless : "what's the word for this....what's the word..." "R-O-M-A-N-T-I-C" I said. "You're right." he replied. "It's very romantic." Then, he held me in his arms. His skin was so warm. The moon was shining, the stars were as bright as ever, the waves were swooshing, the wind was caressing our naked bodies, and then, then, it happened.

He rolled over and started snoring like a freight train.

At that point, I thought it was cute. Even after I tried to wake him up by poking him, tickling him, crying out his name loudly, hitting him with the pillow. Nothing could wake him up. Oh well. I took one of the pillows and stuck it over his face. I checked on him periodically during the night to see if he was still breathing. I was smiling throughout the night. That just tells you the kind of mood I was in.

Plus, he was way too heavy to throw overboard.

Romancing the california stud-muffin, part I

The view from my cabin balcony, very early in the morning...

We had met the night before. As usual, I was dancing up a storm on the dance floor, and quite happy to get up, boogie, bump and grind with anyone who would be willing to follow my crazy rythms. After a few songs, I got thirsty, walked over to my table, where my drink was waiting for me. I gulfed it down and walked straight back to the dance floor, ready for more. As I was making my way through the crowd, I heard a voice from behind say "Can I dance with you?" I didn't even know where the voice came from. I didn't even turn around. "Sure! Come and join me on the dance floor."

I made it to the centre of the dance floor, and turned around to face my dancing partner. He was younger, (well only a few years, love) very cute, something hispanic about him, love the messed-up hair, great smile, and he was very, very turned on. Perfect! I thought. Un ptit tour de manège? Pourquoi pas. On the dance floor, we went a bit crazy, and I have to admit, my bumping & grinding was a bit over the top, but hey, nobody was complaining, and give me a break, I was on vacation. It's my god-given right.

After a few songs, I took him by the hand back to the table, he got me a drink (in my case a bottle of water) and got himself one. He was looking at me a bit googly-eyed, in complete awe; I thought he was adorable. I could have just made one bite out of him. But then again, he was sooo drunk. He will be of no use to me, I thought. Damn.

Me, drawing conclusions, yet smiling

-Thanks for the dance...I'm tired. I think I'll go back to my cabin.

Him, a bit panicked and eager

-Already? Now? Can I take you?

Me, laughing and looking straight at him

-Sweetie....you're too drunk...you'll be of no use to me...Let's see each other tomorrow, when you'll be sobered up...

Him, quickly regaining conscience

-I'm not drunk! I'm OK! See, I'm fine! I didn't have that many drinks!

Ok, I thought. He's cute. Ladies, this one's mine.

Me, in a cheeky tone, ackowledging the fact that a) he's horny as hell and b) I'm getting there.

-OK then. You can walk me back. But I am not sleeping with you! You are just taking me to my cabin, OK? You promise to behave? You will be a good boy?

Him, willing to say anything to take me back to my cabin

-OK, sure. I promise. Yes.

We made it to the cabin, giggling, flirting outrageously, and of course, taking advantage of stopped elevators to kiss. We stopped in front of the cabin door, and waited for a ship employee to pass us before kissing goodnight.

Him, being the good boy I asked him to be

-Well, good night...

Me, smiling, and taking him by the hand whilst opening my cabin door

-I'm sure it will be...

Him

-??

Me, enjoying every second

-Come on, sweetie, it's tomorrow already!

And the cabin door closes on part I; stay tuned for our next episode. :)

Return from paradise afloats

I made it back!

Caught a last minute flight from Fort Lauderdale this afternoon and stopped to pick up the kids in Montreal before I get back to sunny Ottawa (didn't we get some snow last week???)

I had such a wonderful time on the Carnival Legend; I have just about a million stories just waiting to pop out at some point...I can just tell you that it was wonderful, there was about 1.4 men for every girl (one to pay the bar tab; one to take you dancing, one to massage suntan oil on your back, one to take you out to the fancy restaurant on deck 10, one to take back to your cabin and enjoy the motion of the ocean...)

I met some great people from all over the states; New-York, Seattle, and did enjoy a very sweet vacation romance with a younger california cutie from San Diego...saying goodbye was difficult....oh well....Perhaps a reason for me the revisit the west coast???

Summer lovin'....had me a blast....

Will entertain you with a few stories from the love boat during the next few days; meanwhile, I'm still feeling the boat rocking!

I would definitely do this again.

Fun in the sun!

I managed to get my sea legs after a quite painful first evening at sea; now Im all right, having fun, and paying 75 cents a minute to write this post!

I will make this short!

This is very cool, visited St. Kitts today and will be on St. Lucia tomorrow...as for the men? Well....it would be all right if it wasn't for those obnoxious americans!!! They do nothing for me....Luckily the Carnival Legend has a very interesting staff of international employees; I have to go now, I have to meet a very sexy indian black jack dealer!

Taaaaa!

PS I won 200$ at Black Jack! Don't tell anyone!

Speak soon!

Bridges taking the quest for single men on high seas!!!

That's it! I've had it with Ottawa singles, I'm taking my business elsewhere! Well, for one week, that is....

I will be boarding the magnificent Carnival Legend from Fort Lauderdale port, Florida on April 1st for 8 fun-filled days in the Caribbean sea...ahhh....St. Kitts, St. Lucia and St. Martin will be on the menu, as well as about 250 singles from all over the world! If you want to check it out, click here, and perhaps you can organize your own little trip!

I've never been on a cruise before, so this will be a first for me. I'm leaving tonight for Montreal, and will be hopping on a flight to sunny Fort Lauderdale on Saturday morning, for one day of Luxury at a posh Ft. Lauderdale hotel & spa, thank you very much, to make myself even more relaxed and beautiful before boarding for party central...ah....now that, my friends, is the life. La dolce vita, just like it should be :)

Pour les lecteurs des aventures de Christophe & de Sophie, je vous laisserai un autre passage avant de quitter, histoire de vous divertir pendant mon absence!

Oh, and one little thing before I leave...you know how funny coincidences happen when you're not expecting them? I have told you before about my heartbreak over the British dude that left me stranded here in Ottawa, you know, the one me & my friends affectionately call Mr. Fuckface....well, he's been living in Nottingham for a year now, and sometimes, not very often, I hear from him, to realise that no, he's not better, and that yes, looking back, it's probably best that he, to put it lightly, buggered off. Case closed. Now for the funny coincidence.

As a woman who likes to keep up with international issues, I sometimes read the Guardian newspaper on line. And of course, given my profound love of English men, had to put up a profile in the "soulmates" section of the paper, just to see, you know, what's out there. I did that in January, and forgot about it. I wasn't planning to go to England soon at the time. A few days ago, I received an email from the site saying that somebody had sent me a message, and I have to say, I was curious. It was from a 33 year old man from Nottingham, but, no picture was available to be seen... Of course, Mr. Fuckface IS 33 and lives in Nottingham, so....I figured...that's probably him, right?

WRONG!!

It was simply a very sweet, charming and courteous English illustrator who fancied my profile for some reason and felt compelled to reach out to yours truly. We did have a very short conversation over MSN and exchanged emails...Perhaps we will keep in touch, who knows, stranger things have happened, at least in my lifetime! He seems to be a very interesting individual, he has the most amazing jaw-dropping eyes I have ever seen on a profile picture, and he is an accomplished artist....what can I say... (Bridges sighing and batting her eyes) courteous, charming, British, artistically inclined and gorgeous eyes? Perhaps I should steer the boat towards the UK??? Now this, ladies and gentlemen, is material for a romance novel that would make all Canadian girls swoon. I'll get started. :) A cruise is a great setup to write a romance novel, no??? Hasn't this been done before? Wait....

The Love boat....
soon will be making another run....
The love boat....
promises something for everyone....



That's a great idea! Could make a great TV show!!!! ;)


I'm heading out, things to pack, places to go, people to meet....will come back with follow-ups on April 11th! (Or maybe sooner given there are computers on the Love boat!)




Cheers, speak soon!
(Bridges, waving her handkerchief from the deck!)

Here I go again on my own (It's all in the quest, maties)

Well Bridges is at it again.

Trying to palliate her emotional deficiencies by putting herself on the spot in a public environment, or, in English please, having a go at pre-arranged potential mating. :)

This one's called The Single gourmet, and it promises to reunite only the cream of the crop of Ottawa professional singles looking to meet others of their kind. It will be my first visit, since you have to be a member to have the privilege of joining others in an activity that promises to be posh, oh-so-upscale and hopefully, fun. I am still to find out how the whole evening is set up and what kind of people actually get together in these events to mingle. Be sure yours truly will be checking it out and checking out the gentlemen; I will tell you all about it, even the most gruesome details. Nothing, or rather nobody, shall be spared.

Stay tuned as I will head out to the St. Patrick's day event this Saturday. I might just wear my green buckle shoes for the spirit of the Irish. :)

Dernière heure : I was just invited to a party to celebrate one of my friend's new condo just before I go off to the Crowne Plaza. She's a university professor, I think I mentionned her before; hopefully, new members of the opposite sex to add to my little black book! Two things I will have to entertain you with sometime on Sunday :)

No sex in the city, introduction

Remember last week I went to a speed dating event which turned out to be entertaining, but not quite the way I had expected it to be. Surely you recall me telling you that no, I didn't pick-up, apart from a phone call from my inquisitive daughter. Well, I will be very honest with you today, I'm coming clean. I did, in fact, pick up.

(insert pause for dramatic effect here, then, a smiling Bridges waiting for a reaction from her readers)

I picked up two women!

I did meet two wonderful women who turned out to be absolutely lovely and good fun; two intelligent, funny, beautiful scholarly women who, if I'm lucky, will turn out to become great friends. Let me tell you about it.

Last week, after our speed-dating (to answer your question, no, they didn't pick up either), we exchanged business cards and decided to keep in touch. Jill, who is originally from Australia and decided to stay here in Ottawa after completing her Phd some years ago, invited me up for drinks with her and Jackie the following Friday. Jill & Jackie are best buddies, and they work together at one of Ottawa's Universities. Of course, I accepted, and we met up at Café Paradiso, on Bank street, which is one of my favorite places in Ottawa. Great food, great live jazz, (Julie Michels from Toronto was singing - she is amazing, funny and a true diva - don't miss the chance to see her on stage, you won't be sorry - We all absolutely loved her!) marvelous cocktails and totally camp gay waiters who forget to bring you coffee with your cream with a smile. "I'm soooo sorry sweetheart! It's really busy tonight!!!" It's ok...surely he wouldn't have forgot if I had a penis hiding in my trousers, but not to worry; we're not here to pick-up, this time, we're here for girltalk, some laughs, and of course, lots of wine. And chocolate mousse cake. Or maybe that's just me....What else do girlfriends need to be happy, I ask you?

Pick-up artists at work

How did it go Bridges?
Did you meet interesting men?
Was it worth it?
Did you have fun?

First of all, let me say I had alot more fun than I thought I would. I did get to meet some nice gentlemen, (engineers - IT guys - divorced dads ) and not-so-nice ones (a dodgy postman who looked way too eager to lick the stamps) a funny 6'4 Dutch guy who made me think of Austin Power 3's Goldmember - without the rollerskates - and my least personnal favorite, the shy geek who is so sweet but not very pleasing to the eye, to say the least. I was sorry for him and felt compelled to take him out for a make-over session. Nothing against geeks, really. Just not my cup of tea.

Speed-dating is draining! You try to keep up your good side for all the people you meet, and you feel sorry for the last ones, because after a few drinks and many, many " how are you, what do you do" you just want to start answering questions by one of the following :

"well, it was my parole officer's idea to get back on the dating scene..."
"My husband insisted we try this...oh, look, there he is! HI HONEY!!!"
"Why don't I start by telling you about my childhood...It all started when..."

Nah. I didn't even need to invent one, it just invented itself.

At the beginning of an 8 minute meeting with the shy geek, my mobile rang. The call came from home. Of course, I'm a mother, I think of the worst. So I say "I'm sorry, I have to take this call." My 9 year old daughter was on the other end. "Mummy...I miss you...when are you coming back...." After reassuring her that mummy was not going to be very late, I went back to my conversation.

-I'm sorry....it was my daughter....she started doing this to me a while ago...she just wants to check if I'm going to pick up...
-Oh. (long pause) How old is your daughter?
-9. Why?
-Er.....and she wants to know if you're going to pick up?

It takes me a few seconds. Then I burst out laughing.

-She wants to check if I was going to pick up THE PHONE!!!!
-OOOOOHHHH...ok, ok....


Note to the reader : No, I didn't pick up... anything else than a phone call from my dauther :)

Speed-dating is the new happy hour?

After a few very deceiving attempts at cyberdating, Bridges is at it again, but this time, she has the need, the need for...speed? (Isn't that a line in Top Gun?)

Obviously, I'm always anxious to put myself in potentially embarassing situations for the sake of having a story to tell my friends in Montreal about the Ottawa dating scene, and tonight will be no different. I have heard of speed-dating before, and was never quite enthusiastic about it; it gave me the impression of sex-starved people desperatly wanting to hook-up for the week-end. "Great!" I thought last week when I booked this. "Sounds like good fun!" In the state of mind I'm in at this moment in my life, it does sound like a lovely idea. Anything to keep this girl busy! Speed-dating events usually take place mid-week, so that interested parties can test their shagging compatibilities after a "normal" date taking place over the following weekend*.

But even before I can say "Hi my name is Bridges", 10 potential dating partners will sway before me in a loungy setting and tick a little box on a piece of paper to tell whoever organises this crazy event if yours truly tickles their fancy or not. All of this under the influence of unlimited drinks, cocktail dresses and low lighting. Sounds like fun doesn't it? Women stay put as men do their little seduction dances for approximately 8 minutes each. 10 single men in suits parading in front of me while martinis are flowing and music is playing? Count me in.

Tell you all about it when I get back. Meanwhile, check out their website if you want to know more about this new self-esteem torture tool : http://www.fastlife.ca/ If it's crap, I'll let you know. :)


*Note to self : make sure the candidates understand the difference between speed-dating and speed-shagging, topic for discussion

Veni, Vidi, and f***ed off

I did say that I would keep you posted on my cyber-searches for a potential boyfriend/lover/friend - or something in between. And as you remember, I did have huge reserves about the whole thing, (understandably so) and my friend Blue even told me that "Internet meeting was for guys who wanted to have to have sex with you without having to buy you a drink", which I thought was very funny, yet, so disturbingly accurate. But something happened over the weekend that I want to share with you. You might find it rather amusing.

About two years ago, when I gave this Internet dating (yet) another chance, I came across some British guy named **** (Yep, I'm a sucker for brits what can I say - Bridges was seduced at first handle, which was, if I remember correctly, something like "cool_bloke" or "normal_bloke" anyway something with bloke in it, which made it clear to me that we indeed were confronted with some guy from the UK. The picture he posted on line was a graduation picture; there he was, looking very "graduated", with the square hat (how do you call these again?) and diploma in hand. "OK, I thought, looks interesting." So I chatted a little bit online with him, he wanted to see a picture of me, which is legitimate, so I sent the one my editor uses on publicity communiqués, which is a close up of my face, looking all very intellectual, yet, sexy, as marketing should be. :) "You're hot, he said, but then, he added, do you have another one? Why did he want another one.... he wants to make sure I'm who I say I am is what I thought. OK...he was charming, but something told me this guy was dodgy. But I looked for another picture anyway in my computer drive, and quickly found one of me in England, where I was wearing sunglasses and leather jacket in a village somewhere, and sent it to him. "I can't see your face properly he said, send me another one. "What's the point, I said. You have 2 already! Why would you want another one? I was getting pissed off. "Well, he added, I want to see if you're fuckable or not." You have to keep in mind this conversation was taking place in an MSN chat box.

As you can imagine, I told him to go screw himself, and deleted him from my contacts, blocked him, and deleted my whole Internet dating profile, completely disgusted. This guy was acting all suave and charming all the while acting like a complete asshole and not trying to conceal it; not even at least until the first date! No, he was a true wanker from the start. Cyber creep easily uncovered, easily deleted. That was the end of my cyber-dating antics, two years ago.

Saturday morning, when I logged in my MSN account, I noticed I had about 12 new messages. That was a bit surprising, since I almost never use that account. There was a message from a girl I didn't know, and it was "sent to all" to about 50 other e-mail addresses, which many had the word "sexy" or "lady" or "girl" in it. Here are some bits of it: "Open Letter to A*** R****A*, It was a pleasure to have met you after our chat on Plenty of Fish (al-21). However, after meeting you..and from my experience, I could spot a RAT immediately. You would be that rat. Although you say you are 'becoming' unattached, from the emails following, it would appear that is not the case at all. (...)"What the ??? I thought. Who is this A*** R***? I took me a while, but after reading the message, I remembered the British creep from a while back.You certainly have a lot of women, willingly and stupidly having sex with you ---J*****, you really should make Alan wear a little wetsuit next time! As you can see, you are not the only girl he has screwed. This is only a sampling of emails from women and the like--I simply did not have the time to send them all. Pay particular attention to the dates and times of the emails. For example, in one day..."And then she goes on about Mr. What's his face's goings-on. This woman HACKED his email account, went through it, uncovered his nasty ways, then, made it public by sending ALL of it to ALL the addresses in his account (and somehow my address was still in there - go figure) I didn't bother reading all of it (because there was a shite load, let me tell ya) a real CYBER-JERRY SPRINGER SHOW!!! Very, very trashy.I thought that was very funny. Especially that I wasn't involved in any way in the "scandal"... The only un-funny part, is all the women who had their private messages sent to people they didn't know! I felt bad for the women involved, some of the messages were pretty raunchy!!! BUT...that guy is a creep, and he got what he deserved... That was my opinion anyway. But that's not the funniest part!After these messages were sent to all, other messages came in...from angry, pissed-off women who had tasted Mr. what's his face's medicine and had a bone to pick with him who were clearly rejoicing about what was happening to the British creep."A*, try pulling the computer out of your ass -- you know, the one that your girlfriend *** probably shoved up it. Jerk." "What comes around goes around." "As well, when you are acting like a jerk, you should know you're going to end up with a knife in the back! Hell hath no fury..."The guy involved in this mess, the infamous A***, sent an apologetic message to all trying to discredit the mysterious sender-ess, saying "I have been the victim of a hacker to my email account and all emails (approximately 2 years worth) have been removed. This included personal emails from friends as well as bank account /credit card information. The person responsible has then distributed both my mail and edited text to all of you as well as other false information..." Yeah right.... edited text.... Talk about trying to cover your ass in the dead of winter.... :)I feel sorry for the women who had personal info divulged, really. I am SOOOOO not sorry for that asshole. Turns out this guy's a cop. As the voice of the original Fred Flintstone would say, "Yabadaba-fuckin-doo." Makes all women around feel safe and secure when they fantasize about men in uniforms.As for me, well, my cyberdating days are over. I deleted everything like a mad woman, telling myself "WHAT THE FUCK DID I THINK WAS GONNA HAPPEN????" I'm absolutely terrorized about it now! No way I'm ever trying that again...I'll stick to good ol' chance meetings from now on...Excuse me while I go hide under the covers and thank my sixth sense AND my University education for my intuition...