Sailing on a Sunny Spring Sunday

One of the skills I want to learn as part of “The Virgin Chronicles” is sailing. Go figure, since I have a claustrophobic fear of swimming in the ocean and the two are somewhat related. But sailing is about floating on top of the water, yes? Not being in it. Or so I thought.

To gain a better idea of what sailing is like before I take the plunge and sign up for lessons, a school acquaintance took me out on her Laser2 sailboat on a beautiful summer-esque Sunday. Decked out in wetsuits and PFDs, we headed out for a sail off Jericho beach. I must say that Vancouver is an insanely beautiful city when you view it from the water on a perfectly sunny and warm day. It is this summer splendour of mountains, city, water and greenspace that keeps Vancouverites persevering through the grey, rainy seasons through the majority of the year.

So we’re out on the water, Jen’s teaching me a bit of terminology about the sails, gear, wind, etc. We’re chatting about school, graphic design, life in general. She handles the main sail and rudder, I make sure the jib is facing the right way every time we change direction. Because the wind is sporadic, we alternate between near stillness and zipping along nicely. We’re having a pleasant afternoon. Then, in a split second, the boat is leaning too much on the port side and we capsize. Yes, the boat tips sideways and we both fall into the freezing cold water.

Not knowing what to do, except for “never the leave the boat” as Jen had instructed when we were still on shore, I cling to it, and momentarily forget that I’m wearing a PFD; a burst of panic seizes me for a second, my ocean claustrophobia catches my breath. Then my senses return and we work at getting the boat upright. It’s damn hard. This thing is really heavy, I think. Later, we realize that the boat’s plug was open the entire time therefore, it had slowly been taking on water. It seems the excess weight might’ve contributed to the boat being hard to maneuver and hard to upright when we capsized.

We slowly make our way back to shore. My teeth are chattering and I can’t feel a few of my toes but we make it.

Final verdict: Do I want to still learn to sail? Yes, yes I do. Our adventure ran the gamut of what can happen on a sea outing and I like that. Anyone want to take lessons with me?

A Bowl of Goodness

The story of my youngest brother’s mental illness is a familiar one to those who know me well. Last Fall, he moved out of my parent’s place into community living, meaning he, Dennis, lives in a suite with a roommate in a home that is maintained by the local mental health authority. It was a huge step, and in my opinion, a very healthy one for him and my parents.

A few weeks ago, our brother Ken (the middle child) suggested we get together for dinner at Dennis’ house so last week, we did just that. Dennis made us dinner—minestrone soup—a recipe our mom had given him. The soup was really quite tasty and I was really proud of him for hosting his siblings so well. He even offered us tea when we first arrived.

It may seem commonplace to many, but this dinner of three adult siblings over bowls of homemade soup is a milestone for my brothers and I—in our relationships and in Dennis showing he is capable of living a functional life. In the past, I as the eldest and most independent, have entertained, hosted and fed my brothers. Those moments often leave me drained emotionally and physically. Now, the sibling that is struggling the most has taken a turn and it is a slice of hope for better times ahead.

Let us raise a glass—or rather, a soup spoon—to “firsts” of all kinds.

Tea for Two: My First Ever Online Date

Six days after signing up for online dating for the very first time, I went on my first online date. “I have a million questions . . . perhaps we could meet up for tea maybe . . . if you want to?” was the initiating phrase.

Tea?! Really? Not even coffee? I was even more intrigued than ever to meet this person. “Mr. Tea” was one of the first guys to contact me; I was immediately impressed by his email and profile, and interested in starting correspondence with him. In our daily missives, we talked about our travel experiences, our jobs, joked around, aka flirted, and asked each other questions about said topics. Some friends had warned me that you can come across a fair share of flakes and suaves but my first six days weren’t so bad.

Back to the first date. We’d agreed to meet at a local coffee shop and I could see him through the glass as I walked up. I was excited to see he was just as attractive as his profile photos, if not more. Sometimes people look different in photos than in person, not always better or worse, just not quite the same. I myself can attest to unflattering photos one day and beautifying photos the next.

So we met with a hug and as soon as he spoke, the tea thing became clear… he was English. I thought, “Even if this date is a bust, I’m content just to listen to him talk.” I’m a sucker for accents and I know ladies, that I’m not alone in this.

Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Make Me a Match
We chatted nonstop for two hours. We talked about our families, more about our travels and jobs, about hobbies, books, yoga. He also told me about how he played matchmaker for a socially inexperienced coworker and is pleased to report his colleague is now devotedly married to that woman. How cute is that?!

A voracious reader, Mr.Tea reads non-fiction for the first 1/2 hour of his workday (even before checking his emails) and before he goes to bed. It sounds extremely nerdy but I loved it. I was actually going all sheep’s eyes on him when he told me. What can I say, intelligent men who read are a major turn on.

Touch Me in the Morning
As this online dating thing is a bit of a social experiment, here are a few basic social observations. Conventional knowledge says that physical contact (of the innocent and not-so-innocent kind) during conversation is a sign that the person likes you. Plus one, Mr. Tea, for gently tapping my arm during a story about teaching 8-year-olds in Kenya.

Simon Says (Or Not Says)
Another indicator that two people are getting along on a date is if they unintentionally mimic each other’s movements. I rest my arm on the table, chin in hand, Mr.Tea does the same. He breaks off a chunk of banana loaf, I break off a chunk of banana loaf. Well, also, I was just plain hungry.

Tanya Chartrand, assistant professor of psychology at Ohio State University and John Bargh, professor of psychology at New York University, call this mimicry the “chameleon effect.” Based on their 1999 study, copying another person’s movements indicates good rapport. In other words, you’re into each other.

Say My Name
If your date says your name a lot, it may mean that he/she is subconsciously seeking your favour. Consider the wisdom of Lars in Lars And the Real Girl. Before a Christmas party, a socially anxious Lars advises his doll girlfriend: “Well, it’s scientifically proven that everyone’s favourite word is their own name so if you just say their names a lot, you can see that it’s going to make them happy.” Mr. Tea, you made me happy.

The Infamous Spark
“Enough with the boring stuff, did you have spark?” Yes. But it wasn’t the heart-pumping, adrenalin-rushing desire to rip each others’ clothes off kind of spark. This vibe was more a sense of ease and, dare I say it, potential companionship. A partner in crime sounds pretty gosh darn nice at this point in my life and on first impression, Mr. Tea seems like a solid guy, except for the tickling. He likes to tickle people. Hmm, in my books, tickling is either sadistic and cruel or something that’s only okay when you’re babysitting a four-year-old. A reluctant minus one.

Bye, Bye Birdie
We parted with another hug and an indeterminate goodbye. My womanly sensitivities conclude that our vague farewell means one date was enough for him, which I would find disappointing. I’m most definitely an alluring bit of womanhood (if I do say so myself) and he’s a handsome, witty and smart fellow. Did I mention his beautiful green-flecked brown eyes with the smile wrinkles at the corners?

My rational side says to chill out and remember that this is my first ever online date and in being so, I have nothing for comparison. Maybe he had a date with another woman soon after and wanted to weigh us against each other. This is unknown territory for me, going on a date with someone who, I presume, is also going on dates with other women while I endeavor to go on dates with other men and they go on dates with other women who also go on dates with other men, and they in turn date other women… good god, what a tangle. Is online dating a case of too many options leaving you too overwhelmed to make any decisions at all?

Anyway, however unclear our parting, I enjoyed our date and from all the signs, he did too.

Maybe he’ll contact me this week. Or I could contact him. Meanwhile, I’ll soldier on and go out with one or several of the other men on my list, continuing my investigation into this human smorgasbord.

In any case, this online dating virgin is one no longer.

—

Psst… Mr. Tea, call me.

In My Mouth: Tuna Tataki Tacos

Tonight, I met up for sushi with a good friend. The restaurant was your standard, dime-a-dozen sushi joint that I frequent often, it’s my go-to for a sushi lunch since it’s close to my office. This time, however, I was enticed by a photo of their tuna tataki tacos, an item I’d never seen or tried before.

Four mini tacos came to our table lined up in a long narrow dish reminiscent of an olive server and we were pleasantly surprised by the sophisticated presentation. Verdict? Yum! It’s now on my list to try making them at home.

The ingredients looked something like this:

- thin slices of tuna, seared
- avocado, sliced
- pea shoots
- lettuce, shredded thin
- chili sauce
- japanese mayo
- round wonton skins, fried into a taco shape

Simple enough and tasty. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Fluttering My Come-Hither With LashDip

In pursuit of the somewhat perverse female beauty standard of the “doe-eyed Bambi” (and wasn’t Bambi actually a a boy?) I’m trying LashDip, a semi-permanent mascara treatment. I’m looking forward to skipping my usual morning curl, mascara, separate regime for the next month or so.

LashDip is intended for those who want the effect of mascara without having to apply it every day. Once applied, the black, hypoallergenic formulation is sealed with a clear sealer—think top coat, but for your eyelashes— and purportedly stays on the lashes up to six weeks. The product slowly flakes off over time and you can choose to have it applied to your top lashes only or both top and bottom. It’s been sweeping the States and was even highlighted in May issues of American Glamour, Vogue, and Shape.

For the moment, LashDip is only available in Vancouver through Noir Lash Lounge, a beauty stop that focusses exclusively on eyelash extensions and now, this mascara-for-a-month application. Noir Lash Lounge owner Joyce Poon is currently the only person that’s both certified and providing the treatment in Canada. (By August, two of her staff will also have training and certification.)

As I lay back on a lounge-like sofa, Joyce first curled my somewhat straight asian lashes with a heated lash curler. Then she painted about six coats of LashDip onto my lashes, drying each coat with a tiny air wand and separating the lashes with tweezers. The final step was a clear sealant that gave my lashes a somewhat glossy appearance. The whole process took about an hour and was completely painless. I quite enjoyed it, especially as Joyce is really friendly and we had lovely, easy-going conversation throughout. I’m not supposed to get my lashes wet for the first 24 hours (how I’ll wash my face tonight, I don’t know) and I should avoid any steamy situations (of the sauna or extra hot shower kind) for the next four days. After that, I can swim, shower, sweat and my eyelashes should be all right. I’ll go in for a mid-point refresher appointment in a few weeks if needed.

I’ll let you know in a month if my new come-hither lashes get the attention and results worthy of the $125 price tag.

Online Dating: Succumbing to Its Charms

So I gave in. I signed up for online dating. On not just one but three sites. For my entire dating life, I’ve kept chaste from its seductions—while friend after friend signed on, while friend after friend recounted her disappointments over a bottle of red and some chocolate cheesecake, I stood strong against temptation. I spurned its advances.

Actually, I’m speaking in a bit of hyperbole here—I never once had the desire to try it. I’d always thought it was for playboys, socially inept or workaholic men, and desperate, lonely, attention-seeking women. This was not a lot in which I wanted to cast my share. (Or, regarding one particular site, a lake I wanted to cast my net.) My views on online dating were so strong that, many years ago when the activity wasn’t as mainstream as now, two of my closest girlfriends kept their online dating lives a secret from me, fearing I’d judge them harshly. Of course, they shared with each other and when I found out, I felt keenly that my lofty conclusions were more a hurt than a help in our friendships.

Another reason why I didn’t have an interest in online dating is because I’d managed fine through old-fashioned means. Meet someone at work. Meet someone at school. Meet someone when you’re a bridesmaid and he’s a groomsman. Meet at a drunken party. You know, the usual. I’ve had my share of long-term, short term, defined, undefined, and one-night stands to suit me just fine, thank you.

But I digress. Back to why I’m going online to meet men. Simply put, I’m in transition mode. I’m making plans and taking steps to make changes in many areas of my life. Why not try a 180 degree turn regarding relationships along with everything else? Oh, and did I mention that I’m a 32-year-old single professional woman?

Just an aside, I have to give props to Laura of LoveTrekker. She doesn’t realize how much she actually inspired me to start “The Virgin Chronicles.” Thanks, Laura!

So, follow my online dating devirginification. Yeah, that’s right, try saying that five times fast. Find these salacious posts catagorized under “Love + Relationships.”

Penetrating the Present

The morning after my 32nd birthday, I was leaning against the railing of a hotel room deck, looking out across the lush tops of palm trees and towards the turquoise Indian Ocean. I was on assignment in Mexico, in the Mayan Riviera—one of the most beautiful tropical locales I have experienced—and it just so happened that my birthday fell within my time away. Due to the embracing hospitality of some of my new Mexican media friends and the fact that the work portion of the trip was officially over, I had spent the entire night of my birthday celebrating in Playa del Carmen until the sun came up. Consequently, here I was the morning after, in the hotel room of a person I barely knew, thinking, Chalk this night up with a few firsts! Feels… productive.

The cradling morning sun enveloped me as I enjoyed the early day quiet of a place just waking, thinking my long thoughts in yesterday’s sundress. I could faintly hear the shower going, then stop, then an application for my attention in accented English interrupted by reverie. I turned around to a man in a towel, smiling at me. Though I’m sure he didn’t mean it this way, I read that sly grin as, “Well my dear, what are you going to do now?”

Indeed, what am I going to do now? The trip to Mexico came at a time when I was standing confusedly at a critical life junction. Actually, I’m still standing there—it’s been raining steadily for the past year and now the dusty road has finally turned into the thickest of mud. My feet were slowly sinking in over time but now I’m stuck fast. For the better part of a year, I’ve been complaining about my job, income, spirituality and personal life and now there is no choice but to do something about getting unstuck. Suffice it to say that while I attempt to sort out the details, and perhaps in answer to some of my frustrations, I’m starting a new project. A project of firsts. First experiences. First attempts at things I’ve always wanted to learn or try, things I’ve recently had the desire to try, or really, whatever strikes my fancy. Though these wee adventures won’t necessarily make me whole, I’m hoping they’ll help. And I’ll document them all here, from the exciting to the embarrassing to the dull.

Welcome to “The Virgin Chronicles.”