Oh Really?!

I promised Just Sayin' I would get my ass back into the blogging world - so here I am y'all.  I start school for reals (thus ending the last time I can use that phrase) tomorrow.  But before we get there I would like to address something.

In the months leading up to school I had dozens tell me that school would be equal to a field full of 4 leaf clovers with unicorns frolicking through double rainbows for men.  Basically in a world full of almost substandard men that I would find intelligent, suave, intriguing men - X clones but "so much better."  I wish I could bring all those people to campus with me.  I don't know what they were all sniffing but seriously folks - they're all married and those aren't - well aren't because well natural selection is still in play.  Case in point.  The second day of orientation at coffee break I found myself next to a second year student taking advantage of the free food.  We started to "talk" - I wouldn't call it easy for him, but whatever there were words coming from his mouth.

Dude: What program are you in?
Me: MCS Interdisciplinary
Dude: Oh, so you're in the choose your own program (scoff)
Me: You?
Dude: MDiv (pause) I need to go.

Now I know it is hard to convey his tone.  Yes I am in the flakiest of the programs - I am also in one of the most difficult ones since I have to chart my own course - I have to have a vision of what I want to do from the start and start digging it out on my own because no one in the concentration will have the same end result.  But really that is not the point - I for some bizarre reason thought that in a school with 50/50 gender representation that the men would be more liberal for lack of a better word.  But I guess while there is a world of men looking for their perfect piano playing, long skirt wearing submissive pastor's wife there is a world of men looking for their MDiv counterpart.  Yes dear while I'm bouncing children off my hip we're going to discuss the nuances of Ancient Greek translation.

I was seriously taken aback at the reality that I will not be accepted as an equal as X has done. I guess it's a good thing that I still have all my feminist texts at the ready...

PS I miss X - I really miss him.

I Wanna Be a Showgirl

Or so Katy Perry made me think. Doesn't it all look lovely? Well I know it's not lovely, they don't get to wear all that silver glitter eye shadow anyways. But it made me wonder, how'd I get here? I mean not that being a showgirl was an option for me, but given that I have a "I hate my job and you can all screw yourselves" kind of job right now according to J, what went wrong? I can't seem to get a guy with an education and a backbone, they seem inversely proportional these days, until you get to a certain education level and then yes they are directly proportional once again. But those men, those men want something else all together, and well I don't run in the Bunny kind of circles, nor do you ladies. Sooooo, back to the point, I am happy with many aspects of my life, I would not necessarily change my degree and all that jazz, but the issue is more so, how do I change my future?

Online dating? Been there and done that - and while it works for some, I think it's just not for me.
Speed dating? Bwahahaha, sorry it may work for some, but it's like speed interviewing, when all I want to know in those brief few moments is the same thing: University education? Drugs? Alcohol? Criminal Record? Pets? Children?

Education no matter what it is says I can jump through a societal hoop, and maybe you'll jump through another societal hoop - like RESPONSIBILITY.
Drugs,yes I know it's Vancouver and my landlord is down with the pot usage, but I'm not, sorry
Alcohol, my sweet lova, it's all fine and good until some orders the shots, or drinks Canadian...
Criminal Record, well you'd think that's a self explanatory one
Pets - can be good and bad, shows some level of responsibility
Children - I want them, you can keep your dogs and your bro's but this ho wants some little ones...

Simple no? Apparently it's actually scary.

So then no online, no speed dating, any guys who are circulating in the friend pool are either not datable, sorry Josh, taken, or unlabelable - OM. And so there we are waiting for someone somewhere to come crashing into us.

Oh Why, Oh My

Somedays I wonder what will befall our next generation of single women. According to Cindy Guidry, the men have already become women and the women we've not really become men, we still need men - most of us. The reason I pity our upcoming generation of single women is not that I already lament our generation's pick of men - who knows maybe the next crop can pull it out of the bag, though given the scene that unfolded outside the Art Gallery on Friday night, likely not.

Now I have to preface this by saying I always find it amusing when men try to pick me up, more accurately I find it embarrassing, mortifying and normally find myself dumbstruck as to the reason and the method - which comes out as me laughing.

J and I were leaving our post dinner movie and walking to our respective bus stops when there was a group of young, and I emphasize young men walking closely behind us. Their encroachment combined with their subtle chatter about us started us giggling.
The convo went down like this:
"Do you ladies smoke" Okay so it's beyond the year 2000, but anyways
"No"
"Well that's a shame" - Is it? I mean the last time I checked I was preventing numerous cancers, gross nails and smelliness.
Silence
"What are your names" - I can tell J's getting antsy, me - well I see the corner ahead.
"J" silence, then "J" - From the silence I could tell they were trying to decide if we were lying about having the same names.
J in desperation whispered "I'm too old for this."
I whispered, "Maybe we should tell them we're in therapy"
J retorted - "What like Couples Therapy?"
Of course I had to respond "Given their age I think that will backfire"
Thankfully we were at the corner and could make our respective breaks for it.

Now bless their young hearts for making me doubt my usage of Botox and anti-aging products, I mean maybe I look too young... Then again as I said to C that night - I don't get it, they saw all of what? The back of our heads and the side of my face. They don't know anything beyond my fabulous taste in handbags and that I'm taller then J. You know I understand a guy approaching a woman in a restaurant/bar or other social setting, but 11pm at night on a street when all you've seen is her bundled up backside, that's when you've lost me.

You want to know what's even sadder - I've had more pick ups from behind than from in front - I guess I manage to style my hair well in the back, even though my arm length makes using the flatiron difficult.

Photo: http://flickr.com/photos/23017963@N00/114390867/