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.

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.

Divas @ work

From: Bridges Lafleur
Sent: October 3, 2007 10:00 AM
To: Mr. Kopinski
Subject: just a thought

…and it would be very nice to have a parking pass for the underground lot for the winter, if possible (I think one shall become available soon?)


From: Mr. Kopinski
Sent: 3 octobre 2007 10:12
To: Bridges Lafleur
Subject: RE: just a thought
Importance: High

Only available for full-timers when they come up…seniority is also factored in…but…one never knows…

From: Bridges Lafleur
Sent: October 3, 2007 10:12 AM
To: Mr. Kopinski
Subject: RE:RE: just a thought

Fine then!

From: Mr. Kopinski
Sent: 3 octobre 2007 10:13
To: Bridges Lafleur
Subject: RE:RE:RE: just a thought
Importance: High

Do I detect a bit of displeasure/attitude…?


From: Bridges Lafleur
Sent: October 3, 2007 10:14 AM
To: Mr. Kopinski
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE: just a thought

Your detection abilities are very acute, Mr. Kopinski! Do I not count for as much as a full-time translator??? I have been working here for two years now! I produce more words translated than some of the translators who sit here 40 hours a week!!! I'm not asking for much! Winter is coming and I hate to walk in the snow in my high heels from my car to the office! I desperatly NEED a space in the underground car park!! Please don't make me feel like I am asking for you to unhook the stars for little ol' moi, with all due respect!!!

From: Mr. Kopinski
Sent: 3 october 2007 10:16
To: Bridges Lafleur
Subject: RE:RE:RE:RE:RE: just a thought
Importance: High

ALL RIGHT BRIDGES!!!! Enough with the diva act already....I'll have your parking pass ready next week. By the way, I have assigned a very important file we just received for you. Top secret. 8 000 words. Due Tuesday. Surely you can pull it off?

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?

Mickey & friends set up camp

AARGHHHHHHH!!!! Lord help me!

Yesterday I noticed some strange leaf torn-up bits on my downstairs loo. Strange, I thought. But didn't think twice about it. I cleaned it up, and called it a day.

This morning, there was a rather imposing quantity of dust and broken leaves on the loo....I was puzzled, then...er, thought about it, and slowly lift up my head...I looked at the ceiling above the loo.

Dear God.

There are bits of various stuff coming out of my ceiling fan, you know, the ones you have installed in bathrooms that don't have a window, the ones that have an exterior vent? Looks like there are uninvited guests at my place....and I hate mice with a passion...I can't rationalize it for the life of me, they're so tiny, you know, my mum always said Les ptites bibittes ça mange pas les grosses bibittes (Little critters don't eat the bigger ones) they can't hurt me, I know, but they CREEP ME OUT!!!!!!!! I need help!!!

I wonder if Arthur is busy.

Ranking update

Case closed.

The lieutenant left a message on my voice mail yesterday morning saying "I'm sorry it took me 4 days to answer you, but I will pass for the dinner on Saturday. I like to do my own thing, follow my own instinct. If you need to talk to me, you know where to reach me", to which I replied via text message "all right, have it your way - not sure I understand but - be well."

Thinking about it later on and unhappy with our virtual communication process, and confused, I called him back later that evening.

-So, er, you decided not to come? I'm not too sure I understand your "instinct" bit...Are you all right?

His tone was very dry, and surprised that I was actually calling him.

-I just don't think it's appropriate. I want to keep things the way they are. I'm going to Montreal this weekend...it's an instinct thing, you know...

-Er...Ok! G'bye then!

-Goodbye.

Two things : 1) I have no idea what he's talking about, and 2) If he had no intention of coming in the first place, which I didn't think he would have anyway, but still, OR no interest whatsoever in yours truly, WHY oh God WHY did he make this storyline last this bloody long???? A simple "I'm busy, sorry" or "no thanks!" would have made things so much more simpler for me when I actually called him up to invite him over. This just confirms that I know absolutely nothing about men and that obviously, the silly girl that I am can't take a hint. Sue me for caring for somebody who doesn't give a shite.

After that call I deleted "Lieutenant" from my mobile contacts, disgusted at my whole reasonning process.

What the bloody hell is wrong with me?

The dinner party

Meanwhile, I decided to organize a little dinner get-together at my place next Saturday. I invited Monica and Keith, my travel-crazy friends from Ottawa, Stéphanie, who shares an office with me at Kopinski & co and her boyfriend Pablo, and Arthur, my neighbor. I also invited the Lieutenant. Thing is, he hasn't confirmed if he'll be there or not. I spoke to him over the phone last Thursday (yes, he eventually returned my call...I am very impatient and get p.o'ed easily when things don't go my way, I'm afraid) to invite him over, and he seemed flattered and somewhat interested to partake. But, and please help me if you have some insight, said that he was 'unsure' if it was the 'appropriate' thing to do.

-Innapropriate? I said. Don't you eat dinner everyday?

-Of course, silly...he replied. I can't talk about it now, really, I'm at work.

-Er...ok then. Well call me when you've made up your mind, then...Looking forward to seeing you again.

-You too. Bye!

-Bye.

So as of now (it's only Monday morning, let's not freak out) he hasn't confirmed his presence for Saturday. And I for one have no idea what he's talking about. I can understand 'I'm busy', 'I have other plans' or even 'I'm not even going to return your phone call that's how much I don't care' But...'It would be nice, I'm not sure if it would be appropriate?'

Don't get it. I must be missing some crucial information.

How to kiss a neighbor

Meet my neighbour, Arthur.

Arthur lives right next door to me. His front door stands about 15 feet away from mine, and once in a while, the postman will leave his Financial Post in my mailbox by mistake. Arthur almost never leaves his house; he works from home, and when he does go out, it's to go across the street to visit Frank & Cathy, the neighbours. Arthur is in his early 40's, and is very handsome, in a 'poète maudit' kind of way. I wouldn't say he's the strong silent type; I think he's more of a suffering silent and recluse type. A poor lonesome Swedish cowboy that wants to be left alone until he figures out where it is exactly he should be heading.

I started to talk to Arthur again not too long ago; I would say a few months, maybe six or seven, even though I've lived here for 2 years now. The first time I ever spoke to him was over the fence from our respective gardens. He was with his wife and I was with fuckface at the time. They were welcoming us to the neighbourhood and offering us cold beer on a hot June day. Fuckface and I had just moved in our new house and were getting acquainted with our new neighbours while the kids were trying out their new bikes. Happier times for Arthur and me.

At first I thought Arthur was one of those redneck Ontarians; didn't strike me as someone I want to put on the list of my favourite people. In the short period of time Fuckface was around, he managed to get into arguments with Arthur for reasons that elude me right now. All I know is I remember my boyfriend saying the neighbour was an asshole, and didn't make anything of it. Turns out, two years after, that Arthur is quite knowledgeable and funny. He has a sarcastic sense of humour, which I love. He doesn't get out much though, or at least he hasn't for the last 2 years anyway. Now, I know all this because I've invited him over a few times for a drink, or for barbecues over the summer. He even helped me out gut my upstairs bathroom when I decided to retile it. I wanted to do it on my own, you know, female power and all, but I hit a wall when it all came down to taking out the old tiles. I was stuck, couldn't do it alone, and was about to cry of despair when I thought of my nice (yet very quiet) neighbour Arthur. Sometimes, it's nice to have a man around the house (not necessarily IN the house, but you know, around it) Especially when you have to smash out a tile floor with a hammer. He was happy to help me, I was forever grateful, and we spent half a day in my tiny bathroom. We wore construction goggles that steamed up every 3 minutes; you can imagine how attractive that made us look. We cracked jokes about 'banging' all day, drank beer and played music really loud. It was a fun day.

Arthur and I both went through very dark periods in our lives at the same time. Two years ago, about two weeks after Fuckface abandoned me in the house we had just bought together to zoom back to England, Arthur's wife collapsed on her basement floor. Just like that. Without warning. Brain clot. She was 38. Now Arthur, who had only known one woman up until then, suddenly became a widower at 40. I can't imagine what he went through. The days that followed the death of Arthur's wife drove me a bit insane; even if I didn't know her very well, I could feel the grief of the family members that reunited in Arthur's house through the walls, and since my own mental state was not too good at the time, I did the only thing I could to save my life. I pretended I didn't know what happened in the house next door. It made me too sad. I couldn't handle more sadness, especially not one of gigantic proportions. Let's just say that on our street corner, at that time, there was a dark cloud hovering above both our houses. I eventually got over mine, but Arthur is still struggling.

Over the past few months, I got to know him better, and grew quite fond of him. I always had a thing for loveable tortured types. Last Friday, I bumped into him as I was taking out the recycling bins. We chatted a bit, and, what the hell, I invited him over to watch a movie later on, when the kids would be asleep. Bring some booze, I said, and a stupid movie. We can just get pissed and laugh at the TV. Sounds like a plan, I'll see you later then, he said.

At 9h30 he knocked on the door, with beer in one hand and School for scoundrels in the other. Perfect, I said. I'll make popcorn, you open the beer.We snuggled up on the couch, watched a bit of the movie, laughed at how bad it was, drank beer, and chatted a little. I talked about how difficult it was to meet sensitive men; he talked about how he had no idea about anything that had to do with dating. He's not ready, he said. He seemed terrified about the whole concept of being with somebody else. I wanted to hug him and to stroke his hair. I told him he should have no problem meeting someone new, he was so attractive, intelligent, and funny. (Attractive, intelligent, and funny....hum....) You know Arthur...I really want to kiss you right now. He looked at me for a few seconds, not too sure about what to answer. It's not a good idea, he said. We're neighbours. Oh, I said. Then we looked at each other for a while. Tell me again why it's not a good idea?