Exile on Elgin Street

2005-11-09T21:08:00.000-05:00

Stormy Weather

November may be the cruelest month in Ottawa. Even Musie has pointed this out. With the rollerblades hung up for the season but with no measurable snow on the ground, November puts a lot of Ottawa’s active/outdoor people in limbo. Probably a good time to hook up with all those outdoorsy types that are segueing between athletic pastimes. You may be able to get them to stay up past 9 p.m. on a Friday night. Of course, if you’re not into the outdoorsy type, you may find out come mid-December that you need to wax those cross-country skis that have been sitting in your basement for the last decade since you’ve just discovered you are now dating Cross-Country-Girl. So be careful out there. November can be a cruel and deceptive month.

This concludes the Exile blog. I may revive it in the Spring of 2006 (or show up elsewhere in the blogosphere) but I want to take the winter off. Thanks for reading and the kind support. Enjoy the season.

- the Chair

2005-11-04T10:41:00.000-05:00

Postcards from the Edge

Anyone familiar with cool stuff in the blogosphere has invariably come across the site PostSecret where readers are invited to anonymously contribute their secrets to site. In the words of the blog editor:

Each secret can be a regret, hope, funny experience, unseen kindness, fantasy, belief, fear, betrayal, erotic desire, feeling, confession, or childhood humiliation. Reveal anything - as long as it is true and you have never shared it with anyone before. Create your 4-by-6-inch postcards out of any mailable material.

Thousands of postcards get sent to this guy. I’m fascinated by this project and it is one of the coolest things on the web. The postcard below recently posted on the site caught me off-guard and totally moved me. Now I can’t surf the site at work anymore for fear that my colleagues will catch me sniffling uncontrollably. Sad, I know.

(BACK)"I LOVE HER ANYWAYS"

Check it out more of the same at PostSecret.

2005-10-25T15:51:00.000-04:00

Here are some practical tips from 4thDwarf on how to get answers to those questions we often have for our romantic partners but can't necessarily ask -- at least not at the beginning of the relationship. Maybe someday google will provide us with these answers...

Relationship Questions

When we start a new relationships there are things we'd like to know that we can't directly ask about. Here are some tricks I've picked up along the way:

The Age
1. Ask what their age difference is with any siblings. (For only children, ask about parents.)
2. Several days later, ask how old the siblings are. (Or parent.)
3. Do the math.

Do they want kids
1. Ask how old their mother or father was when they were born (can be combined with "The Age")
2. Mention you read somewhere many people feel pressure to have children at the same age, ask what they think about that. (If you didn't read it anywhere else, you read it here.)

Religious Beliefs
1. Ask about childhood stuff, what kind of school, sports, music/dance lessons, scouts/guides, etc.; how they liked it, any regrets, resentment, etc.
2. Ask about whether they got dragged to church or synagogue or whatever
3. Again ask about how they liked it, etc.

The Name (Method 1)
1. (Okay, no value judgments here, you met in a noisy bar, you exchanged numbers, but now you just feel too embarrassed to admit you don't know their name.) Have a trusted and outgoing friend show up at the place you're on a date.
2. Instruct the friend to give you a big hello and introduce themself using their full name to your date.
3. If your date doesn't say their name back, say, "this is uh..."
4. Your date will then say their name (e.g. "Kelly"), when they accuse you of forgetting their name, you say, "No, no, Kelly, it's just I started to say 'my date Kelly', but I thought that might be presumptuous or offend you."

The major weakness with Method 1 is you start your relationship with lying and if your date even suspects you lied, nothing you ever say will be trusted.

The Name (Method 2)
1. Okay. It's embarrassing. But just suck it up and admit you don't remember. No matter how long you've let it go.
2. Be frank about how embarrassing it's been.
3. Say that you've even thought about elaborate plans with friends showing up and introducing themselves.
4. Make a point of writing it down somewhere that you won't lose it along with their birthday and any other important information. Like their favourite food or flowers. [The writing down will (a) show that you care and (b) prevent having to go through this again. And notice that this method will demonstrate that you can be honest even when it's embarrassing to you.]

Any others?
I'm curious whether anyone else has methods for getting other useful information that's hard to ask for, or whether anyone has things they'd like to ask about but don't know quite how to do it in an appropriate way.

2005-10-20T16:19:00.000-04:00

Short People Got No Reason to Date

Here’s something I came across while perusing the web: the Short Person’s Support Group. It claims its mission is to:

1. Support and provide reference material to persons of short stature.
2. Raise awareness of the social and economic issues facing short people.
3. Provide inspiration to short people to help better their lives and attitudes.

What grabbed my attention was the empirical study they conducted using data available from online personals regarding heights of men and women, and the desirability of the choice of partner based on such parameters. It has some interesting analysis for short guys to consider when examining the degree to which height discrimination is going on in the dating world.

Check out the analyser for yourself. The model will open in a separate window.

I’ve always felt that my height has been a personal advantage on the dating front. These statistics definitely confirm it. However, at the same time, preferring women on the taller side of average tends to offer a smaller market share to choose from.

2005-10-13T12:21:00.000-04:00

Are you ubersexual?

Okay, so I don't have time for anything original, but I couldn't ignore the latest pop-culture tripe on today's front page of the local pet-finder. I just wish I could get the media hype with the "platonic gigolo" that Ms. Salzman has with this latest addition to the word lexicon about men (she also coined the word metrosexual). Maybe I need to construct a quiz. I think that's the secret to these things.

Here's the test. I seem to gravitate towards (B). Damn you, Steve McQueen.

But what sort of man are you?

1: Who best embodies the masculine ideal?

a) John Wayne
b) Steve McQueen
c) Orlando Bloom
d) Ben Affleck

2: When would you use moisturiser?

a) never
b) if you’ve overdone the sunbathing
c) when there’s a new product to try
d) every day

3: Do you regard shopping as:

a) something that women can take care of
b) a boring necessity
c) an entertaining way to spend Saturday
d) worth spending time on to get what you want

4: Who makes the major decisions on household expenditure?

a) you
b) a joint decision after amicable discussion
c) your partner
d) whoever knows most about the item in question

5: How do you most like to spend your spare time?

a) bodybuilding
b) checking out new indie bands
c) shopping, clubbing
d) sport, activities with partner and family

MOSTLY A: you are a RAMM (resurgent angry macho man) typified by the warrior politician, such as George W Bush, Vladimir Putin and Tony Blair.

MOSTLY B: steady, you are wavering between the egalitarian new bloke and the emo boy who is in touch with his feminine side but has lost his backbone.

MOSTLY C: you are a metrosexual, a heterosexual into male grooming and shopping as entertainment.

MOSTLY D: congratulations you are becoming an ubersexual, the confident, stylish, quality-seeking, masculine man.

2005-10-10T15:27:00.000-04:00

[This is my last post for the next while. I’ve got other things on the go that I have to divert more attention to. But I’d like to keep this blog going on a regular basis. If you’ve got 800 or more words you’d like to publish somewhere, and you think this place is a proper home, drop me a line. --thechairatcanadadotcom]

The Double Date

Recently, a woman I had met through a mutual friend called me up for a date. When I casually mentioned it to a guy friend, he asked whether she had lined up someone for him to escort for a double date. After all, that’s what was customary for our parents. People went on double dates. There would be the core couple and the tag-along blind date couple. From all those movies from the 1950’s, it seemed to be that the woman always had a shy cousin visiting from out of town that needed an escort. Why she couldn’t stay home and watch tv by herself, I never understood. On the men’s side, the wingman usually was an army buddy or former college roommate who tended to be the comic relief to the story line.

But this wasn’t just the stuff of movies.

I’ve heard enough stories from my parent’s generation to understand that many of my friends’ parents met on these so-called escorted blind dates. The stories were as generic as those B-movies. The core couple that introduced the pair didn’t continue the courtship, while the escort couple eventually fell in love and got engaged after a few weeks. The facts seemed to defy intuition because of the sheer randomness of the connection. I began to wonder about it further. If such styles of dating had more than a modicum of success, how come it has all but died out in current dating culture? Moreover, should we be looking to resurrect the noted “double-date” of days of yore?

The purpose of the double date appears to have been two-fold. First, it allowed for quasi-supervision on a couple’s dating behaviour. With adolescents, this meant that parents could feel partially assured that Tommy and Betty-Sue weren’t going to get into too much trouble if Chip and Tammy-Lynn were chaperoning them. Victorian sensibilities carried into the twentieth century so to speak. For adult women, this probably offered a feeling of security as well. In addition, the double date could be considered a low-threshold event for guys and girls to get to know one another. For many, particularly the shy, having to hold a one-on-one conversation over the course of the evening was just too much to hope for. Better to be with a larger group, where the flow of conversation can continue without one having to engage at every point along the way.

Of course, most double date stories I have come across usually involved a reasonably well-established core couple. In 1950’s parlance, they were considered to be “going steady”. While the above-mentioned elements were considered for bringing along the extra couple, other motives were often at play. The most common one I heard of was the “set-up” date, where one member of the core couple was desperately trying to find a partner for their close friend and it was up to the other partner to pony up someone for the ritual (some would say sacrifice). I don’t have statistics on the success of such efforts. It seems to me that the sheer overtness of the caper probably created too much pressure for the coupling to happen.

To hide the forced situation, I’ve also heard of the “stealth” double date. This is where neither party is aware that a set-up is taking place. The core couple, dating experts that they are, decides not to tell the potential couple that they are being invited to a double-date. It’s all kept very casual, with the hope that the natural chemistry between the two will make romance blossom. Sadly, I’ve never heard of much success for that method. In fact, the one case I know of, the only pairing that happened was an affair one of the core couple members had with one of the stealth couple participants months after the original date. Talk about chemistry.

Similar to above, with non-core couple double dates the dynamics are much more fluid. In fact, this is one of the downfalls that I’ve observed. If at least one of the pairings isn’t established, one often gets two of the participants trying to jockey for position in wooing the interest of the same person. Which makes sense when you think about it. While everyone has his or her type, it’s amazing how often we end up competing for that “type” with our guy buddy or girl pal. And when I think of all the parties I’ve gone to over the years, it’s always the same available woman or guy that everyone seems to be chasing after. Line up ten women and ask ten guys whom they desire the most, and eight of them will pick the same woman. Do the same for women, and maybe six will pick the same guy. While I won’t go into the differences in the numbers between the sexes, the fact is that this overlap exists and it makes for a serious challenge in the world of double dates.

After illustrating nothing but risks and consequences associated with the double date, why is it that it was so popular in the past and why did it work in some cases? I want to retract what I said earlier about the risks of being too overt. With men, at least, overt is what we operate best in. More than once, I have been invited to dinner parties where the intention was for me to meet some available single woman. Of course, the clever individuals attempting such matchmaking thought by not telling me, it would make it seem less forced and improve the odds. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Almost in all such circumstances, I would hardly make the connection. In fact, it was more likely that I would hit on someone who wasn’t available or interested, which made matters worse. I’d hear afterwards that my potential love-interest was completely turned off when I flirted with the caterer. Often, I would be disappointed that I didn’t know about such a prospect until after the fact.

“She was single?” you could hear me ask. “That Kyle she kept talking about is her cat? Not a boyfriend? I just assumed…”

Another phenomenon that has clouded the world of covert courtships is the greater integration of people of diverse sexual orientation in mainstream life today. I have chatted up many the cute and interesting lesbian in my day -- all to no avail. Subtleties in that realm serve no one’s best interest, at least when it comes to romance. Throw in the growing interest in modern day “just friends” platonic relationships, and it becomes clear that something more overt in the courtship game needs to be re-introduced. The double date may be just the ticket.

Got something to add on this subject? Post a comment.

2005-10-03T20:38:00.000-04:00

The Platonic Gigolo

This past year, I began an unusual relationship. Deborah* had recently been dating a less than perfect fellow who was not ready to commit to the partnership and domesticity she desired. She wanted children. John* was done wanting more kids, having one from his previous marriage. She liked going out and socializing with her friends and family; he didn’t like her friends and avoided her family. She was outgoing and gregarious; he was pensive and brooding. After a year of trying to find some middle ground, Deborah decided that the relationship should end. She began dating again and eventually crossed my path.

Our first few dates went well. We both enjoyed each other’s company, and from my perspective it appeared to be developing into something more substantial. While the romantic overtures were restrained, our get-togethers hinted of courtship. We were seeing each other almost twice weekly, sharing both laughter and serious discourse with each encounter. I was invited to her nephew’s birthday party. She introduced me to her friends and work colleagues.

Feeling like this was more than just platonic, I finally made a move. Surprisingly, Deborah did not see our situation exactly the way I had viewed it and confided that she was not looking for a romantic relationship. We were just friends. Living most of my life as a single, I have received and delivered the “just friends” speech at more than a few points along the way. I took it in stride.

Once becoming newly befriended (instead of boyfriended) I learned that things were not quite finished between Deborah and John, and that she was still spending time with him. Moreover, while admitting that “he isn’t good for me”, she said that she could not sever her connection to him so easily and was still hoping to work things out.

Partially taken aback by this revelation, it wasn’t the first time I had been thrown for a “bad boy”. Yes, deep down I longed to be a bad boy but I never could wear it that well. At worst, I could be a “not-so-nice-guy” or maybe -- with a stretch, “indifference-boy”. But I had given up long ago on being the bad boy to the point where I had even overcome the whole nice guy versus bad boy hang-up that so many guys whine about when trying to understand what motivates a woman.

With nothing worse than a slightly bruised ego, I accepted my newfound platonic relationship with Deborah and wished her the best in sorting out her matters of the heart. I liked her as a friend and looked forward to the infrequent Sunday brunch dates that usually defined such casual relationships for me.

But things progressed differently.

Firstly, I began to see more of Deborah rather than less. Now we were seeing each other at least twice weekly and often more frequently. Secondly, she continued to invite me to family and social gatherings where one would think we were a couple, except for the fact that we weren’t a couple, and she was still spending time with Mr. Bad Boy (as I secretly named him). Was she revising her thoughts about us? I felt reasonably certain that she was not looking for anything beyond friendship, though I remained confused about the status of our relationship.

“You’re the beard,” says the Consultant, my long-time woman friend and part-time counsel on such ill-defined matters. While women have been chasing bad-boys long before the days of James Dean and Marlon Brando, according to the Consultant , some modern day bad-boy chasers have added a pragmatic element by appropriating the same techniques gay men have been using for decades in order to meet social convention. I was Deborah’s cover story: Mr. Nice Guy – the man you can take into any social situation and feel assured that you will meet peer expectations.

I couldn’t dismiss the theory outright. Friends of past girlfriends always liked me. Parents and family mostly approved of me. I could enter a room full of strangers and become completely engaged with the conversation, whereas Mr. Bad Boy would rarely go out with Deborah, and when he did, it often resulted in a dreadful evening for them both. In this new world order, I would go to the social and family functions, get an A-frame style hug at the end of the date where she’d then head off to Mr. Bad Boy’s place. I was the platonic gigolo.

As for my position on the matter, I do enjoy the things we have been doing – including the public couple stuff. And I don’t feel jealous about Mr. Bad Boy. Some friends have cautioned that I should get out of this situation before I get hurt. Perhaps, if I were hopelessly longing for something more with this woman, but this is not the case.

I’ve already decided that I’m not letting this relationship undermine any chances to meet any new romantic interests. Though I do understand that if I’m perceived to be part of a couple it doesn’t exactly advertise my availability to the world. But what better way to exude some bad boy appeal to a new love interest than with the optics that one is currently partnered. Okay, so I haven’t quite resolved everything on that subject.

One thing’s for sure: if I’m going to be a platonic gigolo she’ll have to start paying for the theatre tickets. I’m through with this Dutch treat stuff. Which leads me to wonder what Mr. Bad Boy thinks about this arrangement. He may actually approve of it, as it gets him off the hook for all those social and couple functions he so dislikes. On the other hand, maybe this is no different than cheating. I’m sure we can come to some understanding. To start, I’d be willing to coach him on embracing the joys of the Sunday brunch date. Maybe in return he can teach me how to become more brooding.

*not their real names (yeah, boring, I know)

2005-09-27T18:01:00.000-04:00

What’s Your Hang-up?

Basically, there are only eight hang-ups couples (both intimate and platonic) have. Specifically, such hang-ups are determined by two key factors: the degree of sexual intimacy between the pair and the frequency of time spent together.

Let’s look at the details:

1. I wonder where this thing is headed?

Where many relationships start – the low intimacy, low frequency friendship. Maybe nothing happens out of it. Maybe you’ll both be very mature and embrace its platonic nature. Maybe, someday, you’ll drive a convertible through the Milky Way. Sure, it could happen. More likely, one of you will ask the above question.

2. I want to be more than just friends

Okay, so you hang out 4 times a week and you’re just friends? Right. By this point friends have already figured out that one of you has a serious crush on the other, and they probably know exactly which one. The sad part is that if this was mutual, you’d have moved up the chart and not across. Instead, one of you will say the above sentence at some point, where in all likelihood you’ll be sent with your broken heart back home.

3. It goes no further until I get some serious commitment

If you want sex, Buddy, you’re going to have to make more time for me. I know in the past I surrendered my body without so much as getting a name or phone number, but not anymore. I’ve changed. I’m taking charge of my life, even if that means pretending to be busy all week, when in fact I’m staying home, alone, watching the movie of the week on the “W” channel wondering why I feel like a martyr.

4. I can’t wait till you graduate from 9th grade

We’ve been seeing each other three times a week and we’ve only gone as far as second base? Oh, wait a minute. We’re in the same social studies class. And you live with your parents. At least I hope those are the facts. If not, this thing is either going nowhere, or I can’t wait till you graduate from 9th grade.

5. Oral sex is not necessarily sex

Hey, that’s what the President said, and that’s good enough for me. Besides, if we haven’t had intercourse, I can remain emotionally grounded about the two of us. Other than the fact that I think I’ve developed some kind of repetitive stress injury with my jaw, I’ve saved a bundle on contraception.

6. Am I just your booty call?

Not at all, Baby. I’m just busy, you know, with stuff. And I promise, you’ll meet my friends someday. They’re busy too. You got anything to eat in your fridge? Oh, you want my new phone number? I keep forgetting it. Wait a minute, it’s 555-…

7. Are you seeing someone else?

Just because you have never seen your bed buddy on any two consecutive days doesn’t mean he or she is living a double life. It could be work related. And don’t be suspicious about the cryptic phone conversations they seem to have in your presence. It could be work related. And pay no attention to that new hottie that recently joined your partner’s firm. Oh god, it is work related.

8. Why don’t we live together?

So we see each other 4 times a week and have a great sex life. You’ve got your tony apartment close to the downtown and I’m fifteen minutes away in my rent controlled loft. We enjoy each other’s friends and family. Neither of us wants to have kids. Both our careers are demanding, yet enjoyable. It’s about time we wreck a good thing!

2005-09-20T17:38:00.000-04:00

Maxing Your Movie Mojo

I caught the movie The Constant Gardener the other night. Quick synopsis: the English Patient, with the global pharmaceutical industry playing the role of the Nazis. Of course, my date wasn’t so cynical about the flick, as indicated by the sniffles coming from her as the credits rolled. Ah, yes. Venus and Mars go to the movies.

Given my passion for lists and statistics, the research department forwarded me the following rankings from a recent survey conducted by a British tabloid on which movies make men and women cry the most. Interesting list.

Finding the right date movie can be a challenge. What I learned early in my dating life is that “first date” movies can often be a make or break moment in determining whether I will get that future date. It somehow sets the tone going forward. I’ve also received a lot of unsolicited counseling from third parties on what movies I should pick for such occasions.

My friend, the consultant, has one particular rule: if you haven’t slept with them yet, don’t see a movie that has any sexually explicit scenes, the theory being that it will create too much tension during the date and unduly influence the expectation down the road if you do fall into bed together and start comparing your off-screen performance to what you watched onscreen. And as most of us know, the movies sure make sex a lot sexier then it can be some of the time.

In fact, a good rule of thumb is one should only see a movie that contains sexual scenes that are only slightly beyond what you and your prospect have done so far. Which means, if you haven’t even gotten to first base yet, avoid any flick where the nipple has somehow made an appearance in some supporting role.

I do have a problem with this guideline. First off, I think seeing some passion in a movie can move things along with the courtship. Otherwise, there is this risk of the potential relationship picking up “asexual stench” or AS -- the fast track to platonicland. I’ve seen friends in the AS rut. It starts off innocent enough with a few documentaries or maybe the occasional PG-13 comedy of some has-been Saturday Night Live alumnus. Somehow, the tone gets anchored. They’re in too deep, where neither one can suggest to the other anything more racy. It all ends at some IMAX theatre to the narrative of Buzz Aldrin explaining how the Space Station is the basis for man’s future in visiting Mars (as opposed to his future visiting Venus – if you get my drift).

I used to like Woody Allen movies for first dates. That was until he started sleeping with his daughter. Mind you, I still liked his movies, but noticed that he was a bit of a lightning rod for certain causes. Even suggesting one of his movies to some women implied I condoned his off-screen behaviour. It became too risky.

Getting back to sad movies, I tend to avoid those in early dates as well. I think most guys do, and not because they’re necessarily against the tearjerker – though most are – but because if the romance develops, we know, deep down, there’s going to be some emotional moments where we will be facing more tears from a woman than we can honestly handle. We always fumble through that stuff for the most part. And we know it. So why bother going out of your way for it. No sense overfilling one’s quota.

Foreign flicks are the best bet. I think that’s the trick with seeing something sexy onscreen without creating any undue angst while trying to light your own fires of passion. My favourites include anything Spanish. Maybe it’s the distraction of the subtitles that makes it more comfortable. Moreover, it’s the disconnect of the storyline to any personal reality. I know I’m no philandering latin lover who drives a Vespa. I’ve seen several Salsa moves with more mojo than anything I’ve accomplished on or off the dance floor. My date knows she’s no high-strung seductress pondering whether she should kiss me or drive a banderilla through my spine. And so it becomes easier to disengage without losing the titillating enjoyment of it all. You can both leave the theatre and talk clinically about the hot scenes and wank on about how they loved it at Cannes, all the while wondering quietly to yourself whether you remembered to put clean sheets on your bed.

2005-09-16T14:00:00.000-04:00

All The BlogWorld's A Stage

This blog world can be interesting. The few of you that regularly read this site -- and I do mean the few -- are aware of the metablog that the Chair made the occasional contribution to in its salad days. It seems that the concept of the metablog was not so well received by some of the denizens of the Ottawa blog
community once it recently became public knowledge. Apparently, the “blog about a blog” seems to have violated some unwritten code in the blogosphere that one needs to show unwavering reverence for those blogging their thoughts online. I can appreciate this point of view. I suppose if we treat the blog world as one would treat an open mic night at your local music club, perhaps irreverence doesn’t show the due respect bloggers are looking for when “getting out there” with some of their deepest confessions and personal musings.

The site followed by the metablog is somewhat unique, and maybe it reflects why it was chosen for this little cyber experiment. From our perspective, the Fifth Muse writes in a frank and often-poignant manner about personal matters. She pulls few punches in her editorials about people that cross her path and expresses her passion in a cogent manner – something I have rarely found in the blog world. Yes, who knows whether we were getting anything close to what this person truly is, but the content of her postings were compelling nonetheless. Some subjects resonated with many of us, other subjects less so. And so we used this as a springboard for our own creativity in the same public space. In so doing, we created the “blog about the blog”, mimicking a discussion group of a daily soap opera.

Some of the creepy Big Brother themes were deliberate – the web cams, the bus timetable references, satellite maps of the city – and were part of the broader social commentary the metablog was making about anonymous voyeurs and exhibitionists in the modern cyber world. Obviously, many of the readers did not understand this context, and instead got spooked about the creepy and subversive nature of the metablog.

What I think really bothered some of the local blogger elite was that we were hiding behind a layer of anonymity. It made it somehow creepier and unfair. I suppose if we were anonymously doing such commentary about a blog who’s contributor was not remaining anonymous, then that point may have some merit. In the broader domain, Ottawa has something akin to such poison penmanship and its called Frank Magazine, where anonymous insiders rat out their very public colleagues and bosses.

But therein lies the difference.

First off, never did the metablog contributors “out” any details about the Muse that she did not already publish in her blog. Sure, we might have speculated about aspects of her life she didn’t write about, but in all those instances, it was merely that – speculation. Any astute reader would recognize it as such. And even if there were coincidental small world connections that got us closer to her, we were cautious in keeping such matters outside of our public commentary.

We were actually very concerned about the protection of her anonymity --- particularly since we found that some of the content she was going public with could be considered slanderous and that those whom she was writing about could likely easily identify her. Many of the individuals for whom Muse had disparaging remarks could easily be identified in a small town such as Ottawa. In fact, I was quite surprised that given her connections and close friendships with some of the best known bloggers in the community, that no one had offered some counsel to her on some of her more controversial postings. Maybe she ignored such advice, but when the metablog raised this issue, she did some immediate revisions to her postings, which I believe was wise.

As for us remaining anonymous, I think that was perfectly fair, since we were commenting about an anonymous person. For those bloggers who personally know the Muse, it was probably hard for them to understand this context. They do not view the Muse as an anonymous person. And so, we would hear comments like, “they don’t even know her, how can they write that stuff”? Of course, we don’t know her. And I’m told television wrestling isn’t real either. What was really disappointing about the anonymity issue was the deliberate attempts we encountered to uncloak the anonymity of the Muse, members of the metablog, as well as individuals anonymously referred to in the Muse’s blog. Some of these attempts were by noted Ottawa bloggers, no less.

Some may argue, “fine do what you want, but what’s with drawing all this extra attention to yourselves?” Was there a need to share this with the rest of the blog world? Well, the irony, of course, is that none of the metabloggers posted to Muse’s site. Muse was anonymously contacted through the metablog members. She pointed out its existence to the rest of the blog world. We took that as a sign that she was reasonably fine with what we had constructed, and wanted to share this interesting diversion to the blog phenomena. Obviously, there were comments she did not agree with, but I believe she understood what we were doing, and moreover, that it should be treated as something interesting but benign. And there is no doubt that her content has multiplied since acquiring knowledge of the metablog.

The metabloggers have been referred to as “self-indulgent busybodies” by other noted Ottawa bloggers. I suppose that’s true. I think if one reads the blog, the members are highly self-aware, albeit somewhat irreverent, about that dubious honour. But who isn’t self-indulgent in the blogosphere? The thing is, once you’ve decided that your diary needs to be read by the rest of the world, you must accept how the rest of the world will react. Sure, you can turn off your comments, and insulate yourself to the known few that will stand by you, no matter what you put out there. But you are still out there. If you didn’t want to be out there, you shouldn’t be so public.

2005-09-13T12:03:00.000-04:00

What I value (Part 2)

In the interest of fairness, I did the same “what I value” survey for 106 randomly selected men in the same age cohort on Lavalife. See table below.

Humour obviously ranks equally high for both sexes. And, in fact both share the same three out of the top five most valued attributes. I suppose that’s reassuring and may mean the whole Venus vs. Mars thing is a bit overstated. However, I’d like to point out a few differences between the sexes.

Men valued loyalty by a factor of almost two to one compared to women’s value of that trait. Maybe a dog is man’s best friend. That may also explain (and this one surprises me) that men also value respect for pets more than women. I just can’t believe that. Somehow, I think this is deliberate bait for the “must love [enter critter name]” profiles of women on Lavalife.

Not surprisingly, 8% of women valued a work ethic whereas no men listed this in their choices. However, about 9% more men valued open-mindedness compared to women. Maybe women need to become more open-minded about men with no work ethic.

Men seem to appreciate the ability to laugh at one’s self more than women appreciate this quality. Now, the irony with appreciation of this quality in another person does not necessarily imply that one likes to laugh at themselves. I, for example, like to laugh at others more than laughing at myself. However, like most men, I appreciate a woman who can laugh at herself. That way, I can laugh at her, and she can laugh at herself. Everyone is laughing. If she gets concerned that I’m laughing at her, I can say I’m laughing with her and not offend her feelings because she is laughing as well. It improves the compatibility.

Sadly, patriotism doesn’t show up on either sexes radar. Maybe that explains why my friends south of the border had to introduce that Act. That’ll root out Al-Qaeda if any of them are hiding somewhere on Lavalife -- all those profiles claiming “martyr looking for virgin”. I say, good luck getting a date with that pitch.

2005-09-06T13:03:00.000-04:00

Pragmatic patriots need not apply

From a survey of 106 randomly selected profiles of Ottawa area women aged 25 to 45 listed on Lavalife, an internet dating service.

Individuals could identify three things they value from a list of 37 possible choices.

2005-08-30T17:40:00.000-04:00

Relationship Forensics

They say that when a loved one dies, an important step for those left behind is to view the body. Without doing so, you may never really embrace the reality that this person is gone forever. There is no closure. I never held that belief, for which I’m glad given that my father was killed in a plane crash. After seeing photos of the wreckage, there was no doubt that if I could believe he was inside this aircraft, there was no imagining his survival. An aircraft cabin that is normally six-feet long reduced to something under two and a half feet was all that I needed to see. Multiple blunt trauma due to airplane crash is how the death certificate concisely explained the cause of death. He was gone forever. Our family chose to have his remains cremated, none of us ever seeing the direct evidence of the violent death he had suffered. Collectively we mourned and carried on with our lives.

I think I’m a bit of an existentialist when it comes to such matters. Nothing is permanent, and to search for some greater meaning as to why events unfold as they do can be an exercise in futility. Some outcomes we just have to accept.

In the realm of relationships I think there aren’t enough existentialists, particularly when we search for similar types of closure when faced with symbolic deaths such as failed romances or lost loves. Like some weird version of CSI, we attempt to conduct forensics in order to write up the relationship death certificate and hopefully find someone, or something, to blame.

I’ve had my share of blunt trauma-like deaths in my love life over the years. Some have been acutely defined by hearing that simple phrase: I have met someone else. Many may argue that being in a situation where your partner falls in love with someone else is not trauma as it is indicative of underlying relationship illness that eventually terminated things when a better option came along. You were just in denial. That’s probably true in most cases. But I’ve had at least one experience whereupon sifting for answers from a former partner she said she could hardly believe it herself and thought we had a possible future. That is until Mr. Perfect showed up on her doorstep. Neither of us saw it coming. Almost fifteen years and several kids later, it’s hard to challenge her choice at that time. I’d say it was the right thing for the two of them.

I think those of us looking to break-up with someone actually understand the importance of closure for the non-existentialists out there – even to the point of inventing a someone else in order to get there. The notion of trading up seems to be well understood and even accepted in our society. People deal more easily with the obvious. If that someone else is richer or younger than you, for the most part you’ll accept it. Sure, you may hate them for the decision. You may think they are not taking other things into consideration. But you can rationalize it nonetheless. What people don’t want to hear from you is anything along the lines of I’d rather be alone than be with you, mostly because we equate aloneness with loneliness. And if one is playing second fiddle to loneliness, that sucks.

With slow dying relationships the pathology is different from blunt trauma. First off, such relationships tend to be on life-support for a long time. There is artificiality about the life of the relationship. We live together but the sex ended long ago. We never share any fun anymore. Usually, one of you wants to pull the plug, while the other hangs on looking for a miracle. It almost becomes a debate about the definition as to when the relationship no longer exists. For some, any sign of life needs to be nurtured; for others, there is no more life when all we have left are a few brainwaves and a weak heartbeat.

Maybe we haven’t found a way to have these slow dying relationships end with a sense of dignity. We need to come up with a palliative care solution for these cases. I have done the “let’s remain friends” route in some of these situations but it’s a delicate act to balance and it takes both individuals to agree that the chance for renewing the romance is dead. However, all too often someone shows up with a vintage bottle of wine or concert tickets to your favourite band – the metaphorical equivalent to defibrillator paddles – in order to resuscitate the romance. Once again, the relationship goes on life-support.

As for those blunt trauma relationship deaths I’ve had, I will admit there has been one occasion that one could say I found closure by seeing the body. It was about three weeks following a break-up for which there were hints there was someone new in her life. Returning home from a late night at a friend’s place practically next door to my former girlfriend’s, I found my closure. The body was in the form of an unknown late model Honda parked in her driveway that caught my attention as I strolled past. Underneath it, a dark stain of oil -- a testament to my car’s legacy in that same spot. I only had to see this once to understand. I had no desire to repeat the experience. Stalking, like obsessively viewing a dead body, is not about closure but about something much darker. I was happy I didn't want to know any more. When I got home, I put on a Billie Holiday CD and poured myself a Scotch, symbolically signing the death certificate.

2005-08-16T17:40:00.000-04:00

I'm going to be busy with other matters for the next two weeks, so no time for any new posts. In the meantime, you may want to check out my old haunts at Elgin Street Irregulars.

This was a little experiment in meta-blogging, as in, a blog about a blog. The blog in question can be found here. The blog being followed is the online diary of an Ottawa woman who writes quite frankly and, some would say, intimately about her life situation.

The meta-blog had been going for over three months unbeknownst to our subject. Members of the metablog used code words so that any internet searches would not accidentally find the site. She was just informed yesterday of its existence. Some think the whole thing is kind of creepy or sycophantic. Most of the metablog was just a vehicle for the metabloggers own creativity, and had little to do with the subject we were following. Much of the content of the metablog is irreverent at worst, satirical at best. And it was all done in fun, and nothing more.

On a cyber-social level, I think it's an interesting study in how those in the blog world need to understand the reactions to their commentary and that all is not transparent out there. It seems evident that sometimes bloggers feel they are acting in a vacuum and feel free to do what they please in exercising there self-indulgences. All they may see is the reaction from the few posters to their site. For example, with the blog site being shadowed by the metablog, there were probably only about fewer than a dozen people who would comment, when all indications were that several hundred people were following her blog.

Anyway, now that the cat is out of the bag it will be interesting how the dynamic changes. She's already started to post comments on the metablog site. If that isn't self-referential, I don't know what is.

2005-08-08T17:02:00.000-04:00

Checkpoint Charlie

If you ever get a chance to visit Berlin, the one thing you should go see is the Checkpoint Charlie museum. A bizarre piece of cold-war history, the museum is located in downtown Berlin, precisely at the famous location where cold-war spies were exchanged and American and Soviet soldiers stared each other down at a border as arbitrarily drawn as a pedestrian cross-walk on a metropolitan street. The exhibits on the inside are even more intriguing. Besides documenting cold-war life in Berlin, the museum houses a collection of escape-related items that would make Wile E. Coyote and his use of ACME devices appear conventional. Everything from modified Ladas (with false compartments) to mini powered submarines are displayed showing the tenacious inventiveness of those trying to cross the iron curtain.

But I digress.

In my usual tradition for straining metaphors, I would like to discuss the Checkpoint Charlie’s in our lives -- the post-break up rendezvous points that symbolize the cold-war between former romantic partners, the place where we do the final exchange of the practical things we left at each other’s places over the course of the relationship.

We’ve all had our Checkpoint Charlies. Sometimes it is a physical no-man’s land between respective apartments. Ironically, Minto Park in Ottawa, I’ve used on two occasions as my Checkpoint Charlie. I bet I’m not the only one. There is something about that park that makes it conducive for cold-war exchanges. Maybe it’s that monument to women – the most hyperbolic example of a relationship failure between the sexes.

The key thing to observe about Checkpoint Charlie situations is the bag that your goods show up in. Obviously, the rattier looking the bag, the bitterer the partner is about the situation. Feel happy if the bag is no better than LCBO quality. One should never expect anything more than that. Anything better means he doesn’t want to break up and is trying to woo you back. On the other hand, if she turns up with no bag at all, and just an armful of deodorants, toothbrushes, and keys, my advice would be to take cover as you may be about to get a volley of incoming debris. Also take note of what gets returned. I’ve heard of stories where, in addition to the usual stuff, all gifts exchanged over the courtship had been returned as well. I think if there is an engagement ring involved, fine, return it. Anything else rings bitter. If your former partner has returned things that are clearly meant for the trash you may want to get some witness protection. I once received a half-eaten peach in my Checkpoint Charlie loot bag. Supposedly, it was mine but I still felt it was time to change the locks on my place.

If not a physical place, the moment of exchange of the items can define Checkpoint Charlie. It may be defined as in that bag of bathroom stuff that each of you have at each other’s place that mysteriously shows up hanging on your respective doorknobs some early morning weeks after the break-up. Perhaps that sweater you left at her apartment several months ago shows up in a parcel at the post office.

One of the problems with Checkpoint Charlie, it often gets treated as a negotiation platform. My advice would be to keep the talk to the simple and practical. Don’t hash out why the relationship isn’t working. Don’t look for reconciliation. They didn’t ask this of the U2 pilots on the East Berlin bridges and neither should you.

I’ve tended to avoid the in-person Checkpoint Charlie situations altogether for the reasons explained above. They never seem to work out and usually end up fraught with unnecessary tension or downright anger – particularly if one party is having trouble finding closure. However, we need to embrace Checkpoint Charlie for what it is. As with our cold-warrior predecessors, Checkpoint Charlie was the protocol and diplomacy required to keep us from nuking each other. It allowed us to manage and get on with our divergent paths. It required a certain respect and decorum. Besides, it’s more satisfying than buying an ACME Universal Relationship Terminator only to read in the fine print that it’s not effective on that Road Runner you’ve been dating for the last year.

2005-08-02T16:13:00.001-04:00

That May-December Thing

Sure, everyone seems to be doing it these days. All the movie stars. Politicians. Sports figures. But the question remains: how much does age difference really matter in a relationship? Moreover, when does the May-December romance cross into the “creepy zone”?

People will tell you there is no black-and-white answer to this question. They would be wrong.

Check this grid to get a definitive answer. Look up his and her age on the grid to find out whether the relationship falls into the Bill Wyman or Demi Moore zone.

Frequently Asked Questions

How do you calculate what is creepy and what isn’t?

The formula is pretty simple. For the older man scenario the calculation is:

(His age divided by 2, add 7)

If this number is greater than her age, it’s creepy.

For the older woman scenario the calculation is:

(Her age multiplied by 0.75, add 3)

If this number is greater than his age, it’s creepy.

How come the formula varies between the sexes?

Older men have been dating younger women for ages. This fact biases our definition of what is non-conventional. For example, Susan Sarandon hooks up with Tim Robbins and it’s all the buzz in Hollywood. Meanwhile, Jack Nicholson shows up at the Oscars with a Girl Guide and it doesn’t even get to page three in Variety.

I’m involved with a younger woman, and according to your chart I’m in the Bill Wyman zone. Is there hope for me?

It depends on how deep in the zone you are and how long you two will be together. It is possible to stay with the same person and eventually get out of the creepy zone since the age difference in the non-creepy envelope gets wider with age.

For example, lets say you are 30 and she’s 20. Obviously, this is in the creepy zone. But if you stay together for ten years, you’ll be 40 and she’ll be 30. Bingo. You are no longer involved in something considered creepy.

As for poor Bill Wyman, he was 53 when he hooked up with that 19 year-old. From my calculations, this wouldn’t get out of the creepy zone until he turned 82. By that point, the creepiness goes to the core and is irreversible by my take. Probably explains why he eventually found an older woman (this time only 24 years his junior!) to finally settle down with. But lets face it: Wyman still gives us the willies (pardon the pun) when it comes to his courtships.

I’m involved with an older woman and checked your grid to find out that it’s not creepy. How come it still feels creepy?

While the absolute age difference is the biggest predictor of creepiness there may be other factors. For instance, should the older woman have a daughter, if the following formula holds true, it’s creepy:

[(Your age - daughters age - 7) < (Mom's age - Daughters age) divided by 2]

Height may also play into the formula. For men under 40, in the older man/younger woman scenario you can respectively add or subtract one year to the woman’s age for every two inches of height she is taller or shorter than you.

How come your grid cuts off at age 60?

Not that I want to be labelled “ageist” but let’s face it – as the numbers get higher, creepiness takes on a whole new definition than purely the age difference between partners. I don’t want to even begin to think about whether my mother is dating within the confines of this formula.

2005-07-26T17:17:00.000-04:00

How To Kiss-Off That Friendship

Here's the problem, guys:

Say you meet this woman whom you really like. In fact, you have a bit of a dilemma because you'd also like her as a friend if sex and romance weren't in the cards, but being a guy you'd thoroughly enjoy something more. For me, it’s one of those fork-in-the-road decisions, and not because friendship can never blossom into romance. In fact, on the highway of platonic friendship and romance, one can navigate the change from the friendship lane onto the sex and romance lane with only a slight change in gear. If the spark is there, it can happen. But conventional wisdom tells us that the converse is not necessarily true. If you commit to the romance express lane, you can’t decide to go back to the platonic collector lane. You must obey that solid white line. The only way out is the off-ramp.

As a guy who has savoured his platonic friendships, I’ve faced this quandary over the years and I must admit I’ve probably chosen to go into the fast lane more than a few times knowing there was bound to be an inevitable traffic jam on love’s expressway after which I would be forced to take the next exit. Fair enough. I considered it the romance-friendship axiom that I would continue to challenge on occasion because, well, I'm still a guy. And man cannot live on platonic friendship alone.

Reflecting upon the failed romances and successful platonic friendships under my belt, I also realized that the axiom was not necessarily a hard truth in my case. I could attest to having a few former romantic partners that continued to be close platonic friends. However, there were other relationships from my past that more than proved this axiom. It now became a matter of comparing the hard statistics.

About one in three women with whom I have shared a relationship – be it friendship or romance – I have successfully continued an ongoing platonic friendship. Of this fraction, some relationships stayed strictly platonic; others started as platonic, became romantic and then reverted back into platonic; finally, some started as romance and became platonic. The next test was to determine whether keeping the friendship strictly platonic bettered the chances of maintaining a lasting friendship. I calculated roughly the same one-third proportion. There was no difference.

The statistics also highlighted that there was no point in pondering the fork-in-the-road decision as the notion of sex or romance did not necessarily wreck the possible friendship and, in addition, romance did not even appear to worsen the odds for friendship. What the data told me seemed clear. My first observation regarding friendship is that most of my relationships don't last anyway - platonic or otherwise. I will not continue an ongoing close friendship with about two-thirds of the women I meet. Secondly, one cannot ignore fate. Platonic friendships fade for a whole bunch of reasons, and the complication of romance is probably not even in the top-five list. People move away, get married, change their social habits, have families, etc.

Having fundamentally disproved the theory, I was still not comfortable with its conclusion. While I could not deny the statistics, I knew there was some aspect of the romance-friendship axiom that certainly held some truth for me. I had kissed-off many possible friendships over the years so to speak. With a wealth of data in hand, I drilled further to see what other gems of wisdom I could gather. This is where I stumbled across what I refer to as the First Base Paradox to the axiom using the familiar baseball analogy for sex.

While carrying something beyond a strictly platonic relationship (i.e. getting on base) did not show any measurable effect on whether a platonic friendship would last, there were measurable effects depending on how far around the bases I got -- the big revelation being that if the relationship made it to first base, but no better, then there was little to no chance for a lasting platonic friendship. Moreover, of the relationships that made it past first base, more than 60 percent became lasting platonic friendships when the courtship fizzled. And this is the paradox. While there seems little chance for friendship if the relationship gets only to first base -- which supports the original axiom -- getting past first base almost doubled the chances of a lasting friendship compared to keeping the relationship strictly platonic.

Unfortunately, the First Base Paradox has created a new predicament for me, particularly when I meet that great woman I want both as a friend and romantic partner. If I feel reasonably confident that I can make it past first base then I almost double the chances of a lasting friendship out of the ashes of a failed courtship. However, if it only gets to first base, it's all but game-over.

Of course, trying to convince that potential future platonic friend that it would be best for the friendship if she allowed me to move immediately to second base won't be easy. I may have to limit myself to statisticians. That's the other problem with such a paradox.

2005-07-24T15:56:00.000-04:00

What were you expecting? A Spanish Inquisition?