Tuesday's Gone

This past Tuesday would have been a strange night regardless of what happened to me at 3:30am, because the evening started out with me baking. Anyone who knows me can tell you that me baking is a rarity but, as my boyfriend said "you know it's a crazy night when the weirdest thing that happened wasn't you making an apple crisp".



I actually made three, and after cooking one, freezing one and fridging one I watched a few episodes of a tv show and went to bed. I'll give you the setup. My bedroom has two windows framing the fireplace. One of the windows is actually my fire escape exit, a special door-sized window that cranks open. I have curtains over the windows but they're transparent. My bed is against the opposite wall, and I have a nightlight on near the head of my bed because I've always been scared of the dark. I'm sleeping on my stomach, facing away from my bedroom windows towards the wall. My phone is on the bed in my eyeline, and my dog is asleep at the foot of my bed (where she belongs).

I wake up to the sound of Dani barking more ferociously than I've ever heard her and loud banging coming from outside on my fire escape. I initially think I should move, but realize that whoever is outside is not one of the other people in my house. Not only would they not be awake at that time, but they don't use the fire escape because it's been incredibly icy, and when they do they're never making that much noise. I just lay there with a growing sense of panic because whoever is out there can see me lying in bed. I pretend to sleep even though he's banging on my window and Dani is losing her mind and growling while standing over top of me. I know he can see me because of the night light, but I can't see him because I'm still facing the wall. I can just feel eyes on me. He moves away from my window for a moment and I can hear him banging on my neighbour's door. I grab my phone, jump out of bed and sit in the hallway. Dani's still on the bed but I've gotten her to quiet down. The person comes back to my window and starts banging again. My texts to my boyfriend in that time period read:

"Someone is currently banging around on my fire escape"
"I am so frigging freaked out"
"I can hear breaking glass and stuff being thrown around"
"Now it sounds like they're at (housemate's name)'s apartment"
"I don't have her number in my new phone. I'm too scared to go back in my room or make any noise to call someone"
"I'm sitting on the floor in the dark leaning against the pink side table by the door with no idea what to do"


"Now there's complete silence. I'm too scared to crawl into the bedroom"
"There's no sound at all. But that doesn't mean the person isn't literally staring through my window. Dani is on high alert too, still growling. She lost it initially. (Housemate's name) hasn't been using the fire escape and it was really loud. I've heard people go up and down it before. This is different."
"I used my car keys to lock my door over and over, thought that the noise might freak them out and then they went completely silent for a whole minute before banging around again."
"I'm calling my dad"
"I'm calling 911."

During those texts I sat by my door away from the windows, wondering if my call would be loud enough that whoever was outside would hear me talking. I called my dad's phone and it went straight to voicemail. At this point I may have reached the peak of my fear, because for a second I thought someone could jam my phone. I called my mom's cell, which she doesn't always answer because she's deaf in one ear, but she answered right away and I told them what was happening and my dad told me immediately to call the police. He said "hang up now and dial 911."

I got Dani to come to me and she laid on my lap while I spoke to dispatch and explained what I was hearing. I told her how to get to the parking lot where the fire escape stairs are (the entrance is on a different street from my address). Dispatch asked if I felt comfortable going up to my window and looking out. I said no. She told me they were on their way and hung up. I put my phone on vibrate and just sat there with Dani listening as hard as I could and praying that my housemate was okay. I got a call back from dispatch four minutes later telling me that police were on site, and could I flash my bedroom lights so that they knew which place was mine? Now the noises I heard outside were police, and I feel a huge wave of relief pour over me. I was not going to die. I'm going to be okay.

Now a sense of embarrassment comes over me. I'm this single young girl living on my own calling the police over what could have just been raccoons. Did I really hear breaking glass or was that just ice coming off the stairs? Maybe they weren't banging on my window, maybe they're just a friend of a housemate. As I grow more and more sure of my paranoia, I get my final call from dispatch again asking me to let the police into the apartment. The door to the building is normally locked but for some reason that night it wasn't, so when I open my door to go let them in, they're already coming up the stairs. Dani, having been overstimulated for the past half hour, goes full attack dog and I have to hold her back. To her credit, the 4 police officers coming up the stairs took a collective step back. I told them she was friendly, let her go and she just sniffed them (bark>bite).

They troop inside my place and they say they've taken a look outside and no one is there. Oh. Then they say "do you own a car out back" and I say "yes" and they say "well, someone dropped a cinder block on it from the roof". And there it is. Total validation. I was right. Someone really did try to break in, someone was throwing things, someone vandalized my car and terrorized me for half an hour while I sat in the dark wondering if I would be able to save my dog if he got in and tried to hurt her.

First I make sure that the police check on my housemate, and then I had to go outside and get the insurance out of my car. This is when I see the damage. Someone dropped a pretty big cinder block and it landed square on the roof of my car. The dent is almost a foot deep.  I actually laugh out loud. Validation. We all head back inside and they take my statement again. At this point it's 4:30am. They've found another car with its sunroof smashed out and they think whoever is running around is still out there. I've gotten weirdly giddy, cracking jokes and oversmiling. I think it was a combination of relief and the knowledge that I was right. The police left, I called my parents and my boyfriend, and fell asleep around 7am.

I woke up at 11am and just laid there thinking of what had happened. I kept thinking back not to the sounds I heard but to how absolutely terrified I was. Even now, two days later I'm having trouble coming to grips with it. It could have been so much worse.

Now, in the light of day, I can try and see the situation logically. They caught the person early Wednesday morning (which was still my Tuesday night at that point). It was a 16 year old boy who was already on probation. He was high. For me, this just made the situation sadder. How hard of a childhood does someone have to have that they're already on probation by 16? That no one reports them missing when they're vandalizing the neighbourhood at 4am? It also made it a little scarier. What would have happened if he'd gotten in? Someone making that much noise isn't trying to burglarize. They're not concerned about getting caught. They're doing whatever they want. And he wanted in.

I wrote this post because I wasn't sure how to tell people what happened, but I still wanted people to know. I also wanted them to understand that even though now it may seem like a laughable situation, I legitimately wondered that night if I was going to be raped or killed. I might brush it off if you bring it up in person, but it was the scariest night of my life and I'll carry it with me. I will ask "what if?" for a while. I don't really feel traumatized and I slept just fine last night (although you can bet I'm going to buy new curtains), but I want people to understand. If someone in your life has gone through a traumatic experience, try not to belittle it. Let them talk if they want to or joke about it if they want to, but remain sensitive. I'm okay and I feel this way, so imagine what it feels like for someone who was traumatized by their experience (and by the way, it's not the severity of the situation that dictates trauma but rather the person's reaction to it).

I also want everyone to know that if they think, even for a heartbeat, that they should call the police, DO IT. You never know. If your gut is saying something is off, you're probably right. In that split second that I woke up, I just knew something was wrong, that it wasn't a housemate or a friend. I had a bad feeling and I rolled with that instead of explaining it away.

That's all I really have to say on it. I'm glad I'm okay and that my housemate is okay. I hope that the boy responsible gets help instead of punishment. I'm asking you to be sensitive to the experiences of those around you. I'm asking you to trust your instincts and take yourself seriously.

Stay safe.

(As a side note, the Saint John police officers did an amazing job that night. On site within 5 minutes, thorough check, constant reassurance. I hope we don't lose them to RCMP. I told them I felt a bit stupid calling 911 and they told me repeatedly that they'd rather come to a false alarm than miss a serious situation every single time. They told me to always call. The night was a horrible experience but they were a good one.)

Long Distance Relationships!

I am struggling with my long distance relationship. It's hard being apart, I have trouble keeping in touch and it can be really lonely. And no, I am not talking about the relationship with my boyfriend. He is as close to perfect as a dude can come. I'm talking about my friends. The problem with being my upper/middle class self is that my friends are spread out all over the world. They're not held in place by financial restrictions or obligations and so they've spread their well-feathered wings and flown off to regions unknown. And it blows.

I'm happy where I am ((physically) and also emotionally and all that crap), but I wish my friends were here. I've got a best friend in Australia, Saskatoon, Edmonton, Newfoundland, Ottawa, Ghana...and as happy as I am that they're living out their dreams and I would never begrudge them that, sometimes, in my most selfish of hearts, I wish they were all within a two minute walk.

It's hard not to make subtle hints every once in a while, during conversation, about them maybe moving a bit closer. They say "It's so cold here!" and I say "It's not too bad in Saint John! Now move here!". As you can see, my subtlety needs work. When one of my best friends actually did move here, I think I cried actual tears of joy. It's gotten to the point where I feel a tiny bit like a creepy spider sitting in the middle of my web, trying to reel in juicy flies.

So I've been giving it some thought, and I think I've come up with a few ways that may make long distance friendships a bit easier.


1. Talk about nothing.
Have you ever thought 'I should really get in touch with so-and-so' and you start an email to then and before you know it you've got an essay going on the past 6 months of your life. You send it, and then you get an identical one back a week later, and you tell yourself you'll answer it when you have more time and then it just sits there for the next 6 months? What makes my long distance relationship with my boyfriend work so well is that we never have to do a giant update because we already know the little things, because I send him a text along the lines of, "My office is so cold today I have the shared space heater hiding under my maxi dress" and he answers with "You're an idiot" (or something nicer than that). It's not a big thing, it's barely a blip in my day but now he knows it. So instead of a full-on essay, it might be easier to message my friends along the style of a casual conversation instead of a months-long update.

2. Invest some time.
I put thoughtful effort into my long distance relationship with my boyfriend. I make sure it's a priority because I love him a whole bunch. But I also love my friends a whole bunch (just in a different way except for a few lucky gals during my experimental phase (I kid)). I'm also unorganized and scatterbrained. Keeping track of the one boyfriend is pretty easy. Keeping track of the friends I genuinely want to stay in touch with is a bit more challenging when they're not in my day-to-day life (which can be remedied by #1). So, I made a list. I really did. A list of friends in my life who I want to stay in my life. And I told myself I would make sure to send them at least a little something once a week. If I can text the bf like 20 times a day, I can text my long-distance lady loves once a frigging week. And then I find that the more they're at the foreground of my thinking, the more I'm reminded of them, and the more I message them. For example, one of my friends is terrified of snakes...so I send her creepy snake stuff when I see it. You may choose to be kinder to your friends. I apparently thrive off of exploiting their fears (I may have to find a new angle for this friend).

3. Ask questions.

This seems so simple. I think it could actually help with #1 and #2 as well. We've sort of developed into this ego-centric self-absorbed society. When people have whole albums of just their faces smiling/duck-facing at a camera from an upward angle with a minimally varied hairstyle and background, you've got to wonder how often we focus on the other person. With my boyfriend, I make sure I ask questions, and not just to get information about his day but also to show him that I care about what he's saying, that I'm interested in how his day was or how hard his roommate slipped and fell on his face (great story). So why not use the same method with my buddies? Instead of always updating them about yourself, it's so easy to pay attention to their text and ask another question. So when you get one saying "my day sucks dick", instead of answering "oh me too, my coworker is the worst", you could try "Why the dick-sucking day my friend?" (or something more eloquent). Your friends should be getting something out of the friendship...like your ear. AND YOUR HEART.

4. Travel.
So this spider situation, is there a rule that says that the spider has to reel in the flies? I think the spider could probs go to the flies instead of expecting the flies to come to her. While a lot of my best buds end up here for Christmas because their families are here, some of them are from other provinces or countries and I'd be their sole reason for visiting Saint John. I can't continually expect everyone to come see me and not make any effort to visit them. It's just not really fair to sit here and miss them and expect them to walk through my door. This is a lot easier to accomplish, of course, if you're on the privileged side of the tracks, like me.

5. If 1,2,3 &4 fail, move on.
Friendships run their course. It happens pretty organically in person, but sometimes it's hard to read the signs when your friend is away. This is where I have the most difficulty. Say I've made a huge effort, visited them (even if it was just when they were home for a visit), I message them, I make them more of a priority, I ask questions and make sure I know about their lives. But I sit down one day and see that they don't know much about my job, have no idea what province my boyfriend is in, haven't made an effort to see me when they're in town, and continually keep the focus on themselves. Just like in a romantic relationship, there's got to be a balance in effort and dedication. It's sad when you realize that's not the case. I think maybe the healthiest thing you can do is gently let them go, and if they find their way back to you then that's okay. There's nothing that says you can't grow apart and then back together again. But you can't kill yourself trying to make it work. You shouldn't have to put in 90% only to see your friend barely put in the last 10. You deserve better! I deserve better.

My best friend and I. Photos twenty years apart and friendship still strong

We all have those friends who we don't talk to for months or years and then when you get back together it's like no time has passed. Don't ever lose those people. I'm not saying you should drop them. That's silly. I guess what I'm saying is that if a friendship isn't working for you, it's okay to move on. But you should try your very hardest first before you make that call.

A Virginity Tale - Guest Post!

I mentioned to a buddy of mine that I'd post anything she had to write, considering she's funny,  honest and foraying into her first sexual adventures. So a few nights later she gets back to me and has drunkenly written out the story of losing her virginity. And here it is. It's frigging amazing.


It's raw, it's real:


The first time I had sex marked an interesting point in my life. Or I should say, it marks an interesting time in my life because this particular chapter I feel is far from over.  The first time was with an odd fellow by the name of Christopher. At least that is what I think his name is, I can’t be sure. The night, as a whole, was rather strange. I was with Alyson, and we were wandering around pretending we were from Ireland (although, unfortunately, I am relatively certain that my accent was far from accurate). Anywho, as we meandered through the university’s “student ghetto” we found ourselves at a party of sorts. In the traditional style of my university’s parties it seems, there was a required fee in order to gain admittance. Due to the fact that we were (and still are) terribly broke, we decided instead to hop the fence. This resulted in several bruises and a smattering of scrapes, but nevermind. At lease we were now in the party environment and not just a pair of fools standing on the street.

Once in the large gathering of people, I found myself talking to a medium size Chinese man. He was very interesting. He spoke of his work with organizations that dealt with malaria in disease-ridden countries. Given the fact that I had consumed a lot of vodka, and a strange mango energy drink, I was rather taken with him. But then he had to leave, called away for some reason, and I was left alone. Now being alone in general I do not really have a problem with. But, being alone at a kegger is an entirely different story. It is in this state that you begin to see the party for what it truly is - a desperate group of people all trying to make some kind of superficial connection with someone else. This is something you want to avoid at all cost because then you end up questioning the meaning of life, and how you are failing miserably in every aspect at whatever life could signify. So, naturally, I grasped on to the only other person I had made casual small talk with; the man in the silver fedora. This is the man that I would lose my virginity to. I know, it seems insane.

I began making casual conversation with this fellow, and then the next thing I knew, he was leading me to his house. And I just followed. Even now, I still cannot quite decipher why I did this. I could have easily broken free and forged my way home. But no, I decided to follow this strange man home. Upon arrival, his seduction techniques consisted of him showing me his collection of kitchen knives, all of which he sold, his bow and arrow collection, and his exact replica of a medieval sword. I was surprised by his tactics to say the least. And then, just when I thought he could not out do himself, he began to recount to me the history of battleships during the world wars.

It was after this display that we actually had sex. I must say, I was very drunk at the time. Sadly, this did not lessen the pain I experienced in the least. I am not sure if this was because of a lack of cunnilingus or what, but on the whole, I do remember a significant amount of pain accompanying the experience. And then, on top of that, his head would not stop moving. It just kept bobbing up and down in front of me as if he was some kind of tropical fish in a sad little tank. And then, I threw up. Classy right?

Yes, I threw up in the middle of having sex for the first time. At this point I decided it was time to go, and so I said to the man in the silver fedora, “I must go, or else the feminists will be disappointed in me.” I am not sure exactly what I meant with that phrase, only that I knew it would make for an excellent exit. He was a bit confused, I think.

That was my first time having sex. It was not romantic, or magical. I did not see any stars, or form any kind of emotional attachment to that man. It was just something I did, and that is all it was.

A Very Important Sex Tip:

This is going to be a very short post. 

I have a very important message.

When you are having sexual fun times with a woman and she says "just like that" or starts moaning louder or gives indications that she is truly enjoying the hell out of the sexual experience...

DO NOT GO FASTER. DO NOT GO SLOWER. DO THE THING THAT IS MAKING HER MOAN.

(Side bar, and I cannot emphasize this enough, communication is key. Hopefully, if all is well with you and your partner, she'll let you know when she wants it faster or slower. Seriously, otherwise, do what you were doing. DO WHAT YOU WERE DOING.)