Can We Talk? Please?

A friend of mine suggested to me a few weeks ago that I ‘should get laid’.  This really annoyed me. This is someone whom I have known for over twenty years and I should hope he would know me better than that.

I’ve never been someone who wanted to just get laid. I do enjoy sex, but not with just anyone. I’m not judging here, I know casual sex works for a lot of people, it just doesn’t work for me. I’ve done it, it really doesn’t. But how is just going out and picking up a stranger and then getting physically intimate helping any situation?

If I want an orgasm, I’ll have one. I’d hardly just hand that responsibility over to a complete stranger. Not too sure an intimate friend is much less of a gamble, to be honest. If it’s intimacy I am craving, once again, how is a, likely drunken fumble about with someone I don’t know intimate?

My lament, if it was one, was that I was finding myself rather isolated and lonely. It’s not something I really considered when I moved to the Dominican Republic; I considered it a bit more when I moved to Santo Domingo. I don’t know anyone and struggle with the language.  I have met a few people but no one I consider a friend here.

So, I rely on my friends in Canada to talk to me, keep me informed, but mostly keep me laughing and sane. I loved having Skype or FaceTime calls, some communicate through messenger or email. It’s become a big deal.

As far as the sex goes, I would like to have it again. But with someone I like. For now it’s me.

I like me.


Bite Me!

The absolute second I heard about this new Zika virus, I knew I simply HAD to have it! I mean, I’d already had the Chikungunya virus and one simply can not be fashionable without the pair! How. Gauche!

It’s not as if the daily mosquito bites aren’t enough. They seem to love me. When I lived in Sosua I would usually have about eight to ten bites before I even had my coffee made. Sprays, coils, candles, swearing, swatting; Tried them all!

About four months after moving to The Dominican Republic I was having drinks with a friend across the street from my apartment and started to notice a growing ache in my right knee. It continued and we had another drink and by the time we left it was both knees.

I wasn’t sure what it was but the more the day progressed the worse it got. By the time I got home, I was frankly surprised and relieved I had managed to do so. This followed by fever, headache, severe joint pain; mine was knees, ankles, knuckles and just overall bitchiness, although that one was harder to diagnose. For the next few months it was excruciating for me to walk the three flights of stairs to go out and get groceries or get about.

A quick chat with Doctor Internet  told me all I needed to know. Damn Mosquitoes! I had had friends down from Toronto for Christmas and every time we had to go up and down the stairs I yelped with pain on every stair, every trip. I’m sure it got very tired very quickly. I remember reading an article about it and a woman from America who was a member of Doctors Without Borders came to Haiti every year for a few months and she was three years strong with the joint pain.

Three Years! Fuck That! I decided then and there I wasn’t made of such resolve and would put on a glitter gown and find the nearest bridge to dive off. Over the counter pain medication wasn’t helping and I just didn’t know how to see the end of it. Then one day in early January I was at the pub (a small building with few walls and thatched roofing) and I got up to go to the ladies room, (One washroom. All Welcome. No one fucked a child. Go figure) and when I came back to my bar stool, it dawned on me there was no pain!

I couldn’t really pinpoint when that all happened, but I could barely breathe from excitement. I was even too scared to mention it to my friend as I might jinx it! It had simply fucked right off. And besides a few flare ups when I’ve had a bit of a flu bug, it has remained completely fucked off.

So last weekend when I was sweating profusely and showering two or three times everyday, I wasn’t terribly surprised to wake up to a full body rash, headache, achy, and over all bitchiness, I knew my Zika package had arrived! I din’t get the joint pain, but I’m putting that down to ‘Been there, done that’ and one week later I’m still not completely right but it’s tolerable. The itchy rash was enough, but when you couple that with a few more mosquito bites on top, plus a thirst like onset diabetes. Well…

So tolerable, in fact, I may hike up the hill for some proper medicine. Wine.

Okay, Zika. Off you Fuck.4i9kBR9iE


Mom’s Day

I grew up in the United Church. I did not grow up religious. My mother used to clean the church. It was right across the street from us, so very handy. She was also the treasurer for many years. It took  me a long time to understand how she knew I took the quarter out of my offering envelope and skipped out of Sunday School to buy candy.

When I was taking piano lessons I used the church piano for practice. It was rather exciting to be in the church when no one was there. I would often deviate from my practice and roam around the church, sit up in the choir benches or creep around the small rooms in the older part where I used to go as a small child.

I remember how hard she laughed when, watching a wedding from our front lawn my friend and I watched our cat enter the church. Turns out he walked straight up the aisle, bold as brass and right to the front of the church. That was a favourite of hers.

When I was about eight or so I had gone to church with my mom. My mom was not religious but she liked going to church. She could socialise and put on her nicer clothes. After the service one day she said, ‘That Mr. So-And-So, he sat there snacking his lips the entire time! It was so annoying!’

I said, why didn’t you do something? She would have if it were me.

My Mother’s eyebrows went up and there was mock shock all over her face. ‘What exactly was I supposed to do? Smack him in the puss?