

This book is dedicated to my partner.

You have been my rock and my support system. I cannot imagine my life without you. Thank you for being my soul mate.

You will always have my heart.

The characters and the events portrayed and the names herein are fictitious, and any similarity to the name, character, or history of any person is entirely coincidental and unintentional.

Any actual persons and events which may be referenced in this book are included solely for realism and are entirely unrelated to the fictional characters and events.

What is luck but the ability to exploit accidents – Jeanette Winterson

1. Mmm, I don't know who invented the caramel macchiato, but even a snowy Monday morning drive in hellish rush hour Vancouver traffic doesn't seem so bad with...

OMG! Brakes, brakes, brakes!

God, I promise that I'll chat with you a bit more frequently in the future if you will just move those taillights a bit further forward.

Thump!

Really? I have one teeny, tiny sip of my requisite morning coffee whilst behind the wheel and my karmic retribution is to be stuck to the bumper of...yikes! A rather expensive looking Benz.

Well, isn't that just my luck?

How is it that practically everyone else is driving a massive SUV where a little bump like that wouldn't even have interrupted the phallically challenged, follically impaired, Ed Hardy wearing driver from scratching himself, let alone caused any damage; but one ill-timed sip of coffee and somehow I end up stuck to a little piece of Bavaria?

Oh no! The new man in my life was already out of his car and walking my way with the type of determination that suggested that there was something on his mind.

Wow, so this is what a heart attack must feel like? I so did not need that double shot of espresso in my coffee this morning.

As I sat there shaking uncontrollably in my car, I couldn't help but wonder if I perhaps I should have put my contacts in before starting my drive after all? It was just so much harder to tell if someone was about to permanently maim you when everything was all blurry like this.

Breathe, breathe, breathe...

"Hello there, are you okay ma'am?" I heard from the direction of my driver's side window before gathering enough courage to glance up and take note of the look of concern etched onto a young, well-chiselled face.

Ma'am? Seriously?

My car being attached to your bumper isn't bad enough? You really feel the need to remind me that I'm turning the big 3 - 0 in a couple of weeks?

As I turned my gaze back to the window, I couldn't help thinking that my plan to do my makeup in the parkade this morning to save time may have just seriously backfired.

"Yes, I'm okay I think, thanks. I'm just a bit shaken up. Are you okay? Is there any damage to your car?" I responded as I attempted to mentally calculate how many pairs of shoes I was going to have to forego to be able to afford my car insurance premium after this.

"It looks like there's just a little chip in my bumper. It's a bit hard to tell with all this snow, though. Maybe we should just swap contact info and get out of all this traffic? Could I get your number?" he calmly inquired, seemingly nonplussed by the situation.

Well now, let's ponder that question for just a moment, shall we? Nice looking young guy in an expensive looking suit. Certainly no discernible temper. Tall enough that I could still wear heels around him (a definite bonus as, at 5'9, adding a few inches with heels tended to severely limit my potential dating pool).

As I gave my new friend a more thorough visual inspection, I decided that, while he could stand to be a bit more adventurous with his hair, his eyes had a bit of a sparkle to them and he seemed to fill out his suit quite well.

You betcha you can have my number.

Glancing around at the softly falling snow, I couldn't help thinking to myself that this meet-cute would have been downright dreamlike – sans the co-mingling of our respective bumpers.

"Okay, just give me just a second; I'm sure I have a piece of paper in here somewhere. I'm so sorry about all of this by the way. It's just so slippery on the roads with all this snow," I replied, trying to move the conversation along as quickly as possible so that my mystery man didn't get this particular image of me and my normally glistening shoulder length, chestnut brown hair, which was currently residing in a sopping heap behind my neck, imprinted on his memory.

As I turned to scour my car for any scrap of paper that I could write on, a sour looking old bat materialized out of nowhere, breathlessly exclaiming, "I saw everything! That woman just plowed right into the back of your car! Here's my phone number young man. If you need a witness, please don't hesitate to call me," she concluded, shooting me a disapproving scowl as she handed him her number.

Oh no, witnesses? I don't like where this is heading at all. Just let me find a piece of paper and get out of here before this situation gets any worse!

Hmm, nothing but a coffee receipt? I hope that this doesn't look too suspicious.

"Thanks, that's very thoughtful of you. It was so kind of you to take the time to stop," I heard from behind me as I looked up in time to see him courteously taking the interloper's information.

After quickly scrawling my number on the back of the receipt, I flashed him my sweetest smile and, as I not so subtly stepped in front of his witness in a blatant effort to shoo her away, I said, "Here you go. Once you've had a chance to get the damage appraised, could you let me know what the bill is? I would rather avoid going through insurance if we possibly could?"

I really hope all those teeth whitening sessions were worth it because you're getting a full dose of them right now my friend.

The brief intimacy of the moment was abruptly shattered when, out of nowhere, I heard a voice ring out, "Anna, what have you gotten yourself in to?"

That's me by the way; Anna Graham. Clearly my parents had been feeling a bit cheeky when the time came to think up a name for me and I had been paying the price for it ever since.

I swivelled my head around up just in time to see Veronica Lange, a co-worker and my best friend in the world, leaning out of her car window and taking far too much delight in my misery. I could only imagine the abuse that would be in store for me when I finally arrived at the office.

"An acquaintance of yours?" my newfound friend asked, flashing me a smile that caused the butterflies in my stomach to do a couple of back flips.

"She's my bestie. It's just my luck that she would drive past and see this, though. She already gives me grief about my driving," I replied with a nervous laugh, beaming a smile right back at him until it suddenly dawned on me that now was probably not the best time to be volunteering information regarding my somewhat spotty driving record.

"In that case, drive safe and hopefully we run into each other again soon," he responded with a wink.

Hmm, well isn't he a bit of a cheeky monkey? I thought to myself as we parted ways.

As he drove off, I took a sip from the remnants of my, now ice cold, coffee. It was far more excitement than I needed first thing on a Monday morning but, if it was just a tiny dent, then perhaps this won't be all bad...
Some cause happiness wherever they go; others, whenever they go – Oscar Wilde

2. As I opened the door to Beckwith and Howe, the divorce mediation firm where I currently whiled away my days answering phones and fetching coffee, I quickly spotted Veronica waiting for me with an impish grin on her cheerful, cherub face.

"So...how was your drive in today?" she inquired with affected earnestness.

"Well, after suffering through drinks with the hairy dwarf who you assured me was, and I quote, 'the perfect man for me', I've decided to take a more direct approach to meeting men," I retorted with a wry smile.

"Anna! Don't tell me you were flirting with him?"

"Flirting probably isn't the right word for it. Mostly I was trying to keep myself from being on the wrong end of another insurance claim. That being said, he was pretty relaxed about the whole situation and he did wear his suit like he was doing it a favour. It was definitely a step up from my last date. Remember the guy who showed up for our first date in a John Deere t-shirt, told me that he dressed to impress, and tried to get me to go to a gun range? It's not like I've been setting the bar too high lately."

"Maybe not, but I'm pretty sure that I have heard you complaining about a lack of any nocturnal explosions in your life." Veronica retorted, before giving me a playful swat on the butt with a file.

"Fair point, but is it too much to ask that foreplay involve a little wine and cheese instead of heading to a gathering of armed Trump supporters? Besides, I found my charger for Thumper. If I'm going to settle for a date that can't string two sentences together, I want to at least know that I'm going to be satisfied at the end of the night."

"Then I know that you can't be talking about me," the unexpected voice coming from directly behind me.

I spun around to find myself face to forehead with Paul D'Antoni, our office's youngest mediator and an incessant flirt.

At 5'6, Paul suffered from a seemingly incurable case of LMS (little man syndrome), resulting in a never-ending barrage of one-liners tossed in the direction of any woman unlucky enough to cross his path.

To give credit where credit was due, what there was of him wasn't half bad. Unfortunately for Paul, since half was about all there was of him, he fell well short of the minimum height requirement for this particular ride.

"No, I know you can string two sentences together," I retorted as I sat down and not so subtly crossed my legs in his direction, playfully letting my skirt hike up just a bit.

"But when it comes to the question of how you can leave me satisfied, I'm thinking that your best shot there is to take one for the team and go bring Maggie her coffee for me."

Maggie Beckwith was the managing partner of the firm and, after spending 20 years practicing family law, being at the end of her steely gaze was an intense experience, particularly after having played bumper cars on the drive in.

"That's so cold! What about that day when I joined you in the copy room?" Paul responded indignantly as he shot me a defiant glare.

"Well, all that I remember happening is that you bumped in to me with that tiny little pen that you carry around in your pocket and then you somehow lost it," I retorted with an evil grin as I slid past him, my pert bottom swaying ever so slightly as I started my slow march to Maggie's office with her daily caffeine fix, leaving Paul fuming and Veronica desperately trying to stifle her laughter.

While nothing had really ever happened between us, and most likely never would, I wasn't entirely opposed to a little friendly banter provided that no clients were within earshot. Besides, a little ego boost never hurt anyone.

Having forlornly arrived at my destination at the end of the hall, I shivered involuntarily as I stepped inside Maggie's office. As I put the coffee down in front of her, Maggie, who couldn't even be bothered to raise her gaze in my direction, snapped, "You were late again this morning Anna. Perhaps you should consider leaving for work a bit earlier?"

"Good morning Maggie. I am so sorry about that. I got into a bit of a fender bender on my drive in to work because of all this snow. It was just a one-time thing though."

"You're still able to work today then?" she replied curtly, as if my suffering was an unpardonable inconvenience to her schedule.

Yes, you insipid old cow. I am here at your beck and call, giving you what remains of my fleeting youth while you bilk people out of their hard earned cash during their darkest hour.

"Absolutely Maggie. I just slid into someone's bumper at a light. No major injuries to worry about," I responded, wasting an Oscar worthy effort at looking distraught on a woman who had long ago parted ways with basic human emotions like empathy or concern.

"Alright. Please make sure that any insurance matters are dealt with on your own time," Maggie retorted as she abruptly turned her gaze back to her desk.

No, no. No need to enquire about my emotional state. Just a bit distraught over the idea of working here as virtual slave labour for the next twenty years or so to pay off the upcoming repair bill but no, I don't need to take the rest of the day off to recover or anything.

"Of course Maggie. I'll be up front if you need anything else."

Like a shot of cyanide in your coffee perhaps?

The office was equally divided as to whether listening to couples bitch and moan about each other for 20 years has left her jaded and bitter, or whether she had always been this way and she just been drawn to this profession because it fit so perfectly with her personality.

I was personally a firm believer that it was biological.

I had put up with her sour face for three years and, despite that daily torment, I was still every bit as sweet now as when I decided that my liver wasn't up for the challenge of a lifetime of bartending.

That being said, every time I walked into Maggie's office I still got a tiny bit nostalgic for my little black skirt and that jar full of tips at the end of the night...

Sadly, my sporadic, half-hearted efforts to explore my job options had left open the possibility that I would still be here to eventually send Maggie off into retirement.

Or a coffin.

Whichever came first, really.

Who knew that being an English major would somewhat limit one's career choices?

As I walked back to my desk, idly pondering the average lifespan of a mediator, Veronica handed me the phone with a mischievous smile as she whispered to me, "I think it's your new friend. Is he a lawyer? The number shows up as being from Adelman, Smith & Stein."

My heart immediately started pounding violently in my chest as I digested that unexpected piece of news.

Adelman, Smith & Stein was one of the largest law firms in Vancouver and their litigators were notoriously ruthless. Had I somehow managed to lock horns, and bumpers, with one of their own? He looked so young and innocent.

Gulp!

Picking up the phone, I whispered, "Anna Graham speaking, how can I help you?" my voice inadvertently coming out as a timid squeak.

"Hey Anna, it's Jonathan, we, uh... met this morning. I just wanted to give you a quick call to see how you're doing?"

Wow, is this guy for real? I run into him, mangled his car, and he's calling to see how I am?

Either I had quite an effect on him and he was being very sweet or there was some ulterior motive at work here.

"I'm a bit shaken up, but otherwise I think I'm fine. I'm so sorry about denting your car. It was just so slippery out there this morning," I replied, my heart pounding furiously in my chest.

Please, please, please don't sue me!

Subsisting solely on carrots should be a lifestyle choice based on one's proximity to swimsuit season. It should not be a necessity dictated by one's depleted and/or non-existed savings account.

"No worries, it could have happened to anyone. I'm glad to hear you're okay though. You had a bit of a 'deer caught in the headlights' look going on this morning."

Have you ever had a strapping, 6'4 inch man approaching your vehicle after you've attached it to his bumper? How was I to know that he would be so nice about the whole situation?

"Well, it is possible that I was a teensy bit nervous about the whole situation. So are you okay? Is there any word on your car?"

While I personally believe that I am a reasonably competent motorist, I've previously had a few lapses of attention in parking lots and one encounter with a parked car that I swear was not there when I started backing up.

As a result, if I wanted to be able to afford to keep paying both my rent and my car insurance premiums, I really needed this incident to be something that I could handle without involving the lovely, yet somewhat unsympathetic, insurance company minions that handle my auto claims.

"My car is in the shop right now. I should hear back by tomorrow about the estimate, but the damage looked pretty minor and, as far as I can tell, I'm just fine. Besides, if someone was going to tap me, I'm glad it was someone as cute as you wielding the hammer," he replied, chuckling into the phone.

"Aren't you kind. I'm not sure that I was quite at my best when we met though," I replied, recalling how my hair had, at the moment in question, closely resembled a drowning rat clinging fiercely to the back of my head.

"Really? I thought you looked almost angelic with the snow falling around you. Unfortunately, I've got to run to a client meeting in a minute, but I'm really glad to hear that you're okay."

Lies! But how sweet are you to utter them?

"So you're a lawyer then?"

"Yes, I was just called to the bar a couple of months ago, so I'm officially despised by all of society now. I apologize, I really do have to run, but I'll give you a ring tomorrow once I hear about my car. Have a safe drive home tonight," he responded, sounding genuinely concerned for my welfare.

It was just my luck that I would run into a lawyer's car, but who calls after to see if the person that hit them is okay? Maybe it takes the new ones a little practice before they become soulless sycophants?

Hmm, I wonder how old lawyers are when they graduate law school? And how did I forget to look to see if he was wearing a ring...
Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass; it's about learning to dance in the rain – Vivian Greene

3. Several dreary hours later, most of which were spent dejectedly wondering what heights bumper repair costs on a Benz could soar to, I was finally free and off to meet my buddy Clayton for a much needed drink.

Clayton was an I-banker with more money than God. Greying at the temples and resembling a less frazzled version of Hugh Laurie, I was certain that he was somewhere north of 40, but he had always been coy as to the exact number.

I had first met him through my roommate, Elyse, when we had been working together at the same bar and it had quickly become obvious that Clayton had taken a special interest in my wellbeing.

Unfortunately for him, and even though Clayton was a decent looking guy with a lot going for him, I had just never really felt a spark.

Spark or not, he was always entertaining company, he took rejection well, and I had never had to pay for a thing whilst in his company.

"Hiya beautiful, you look like you could use this," Clayton greeted warmly me as he pushed a Caesar in my direction before standing up to give me a hug.

It's always nice bonus when your friends can remember your drink of choice.

"You have no idea! It's been such a long day. Thanks Clayton, you're so thoughtful," I replied, gratefully taking a sip of my drink.

"So, what's got you so stressed out?" he replied, moving his chair a bit closer to mine in a move that I pretended was strictly out of interest in my wellbeing.

As I felt the alcohol begin to take the edge off ever so slightly, I began my tale of woe, "So, you know how the roads were ridiculously slippery on the drive in this morning with all the snow? Well, as I was heading to work, a light changed just before I got to an intersection and, just between you and me, it's possible I may have been taking a sip of my latte and been a bit late on the brakes. I just barely tapped the car in front of me but I guess there's a little dent in the bumper. The worst part is that he's a lawyer! Can you believe my luck? On the bright side, he's been pretty good about the whole thing so far and I'm hoping I can pay for the damage and not have to go through insurance. I can only imagine what this would do to my premiums. I'd be back at the bar slinging drinks again for sure," I concluded, reaching for my drink again as I shuddered a bit at the thought.

Laughing at my story, Clayton said, "Anna, how does this stuff always happen to you? So this lawyer you ran in to, you haven't offered him a personal services settlement, have you?" he inquired with a sly grin.

"Not every guy has a one track mind the way you do Clayton," I retorted with a self-righteous huff. "In fact, he even called me this morning, just to see if I was okay."

"Ha! I bet you our bill that he offers you a massage to relieve your tension before the end of the week. Maybe not every guy is as honest and straightforward as I am, but I think I have a pretty good handle on the inner workings of the average male mind."

Clayton's eyes were starting to twinkle and he could tell that he was starting to get under my skin.

While the majority of my own dating experiences may have lead me to agree with Clayton's premise, the occasional good one had snuck into my life and I wasn't so jaded to believe that there weren't exceptions to every rule.

"Alright smarty pants, if you have such a good handle on the inner workings of the male mind, tell me why that older fellow over there looks so happy," I retorted, nodding my head subtly towards a cute older couple that was sitting a couple of tables down from us, animatedly chatting while holding hands across the table.

"That's an easy one. He's telling her that he just heard from his doctor that today was his last day of physio after his hip surgery and he should now be able to perform like he's 65 again," Clayton retorted playfully.

"Oh please, I've heard the way you talk about your ex. I think you're a romantic at heart but you're just getting jaded in your dotage," I replied, feistily.

Clayton had been engaged a few years ago only to find out a couple of days prior to the wedding that his fiancée had been cheating on him with one of his business partners. He had been an emotional wreck for months afterward and I was reasonably certain that his recent valiant attempts to make himself appear to be a player was all part of a façade to protect himself from getting hurt again.

"I think they just found out that their first grandchild is getting married and they are reminiscing about their own wedding," I replied, beaming a smile at him, knowing full well that my response would set him off.

"So what's new in your world, Clayton?" I asked, quickly changing the topic before he had a chance to reply.

"You've met my younger brother Matt before, right?" Clayton replied as his gaze returned to me.

"I had the pleasure last summer, I think," I replied, doing my best not to reflexively shudder at the memory.

Matt may have been closer to my age but, from what I could recall, he was delaying his voyage to maturity as long as possible. While he appeared to share his brother's interest in me, sadly, he lacked all of his brother's subtlety and charm and five minutes in his presence had made my skin crawl.

"At my Celebration of Light party for the fireworks, I think, right? Anyways, he and some of his golf pro buddies are trying to get me to invest in their new venture, Hole in One Solutions. Basically they want to market themselves as instructors to middle age women who want to learn to play the game and might also be lacking for male attention on the home front," Clayton said as he took a sip of his drink.

"The sad thing is, there probably is an untapped market for the lessons. Pardon the pun. But my brother and his dumbass buddies hitting on rich, middle age women is either going to result in a lawsuit or an assault charge the first time one of the husbands finds out one of these guys has been sinking putts on his felt," Clayton concluded, looking exasperated and quickly downing the rest of his drink.

"So you won't be out there offering your services then?" I inquired with a look of feigned innocence.

"Not in a professional capacity, but I'm always willing to work on your stroke any time that you're so inclined," he responded with a wink.

"I hear tempo is key to a good stroke. I can never remember though, is it supposed to be fast and hard or should it be slow and smooth?" I replied, playing along with him.

"I think once you've perfected your technique and you're comfortable with a nice smooth and steady stroke, then you can speed things up a bit."

"That faster tempo leads to a better result then?" I asked, goading him on.

"As long as your form is still good. You don't want to grip the shaft too hard though," he replied, squirming slightly in his seat.

"You know, I actually bought a new golf skirt recently. It sits a bit higher than my old one. It lets me move my hips a bit more so I can really get into my swing," I continued, flirting shamelessly now.

I knew that I shouldn't be leading him on like this but, listening to his watch start to crack with his last response, I just couldn't help myself.

"You don't say? Maybe we should get out and play a round or two sometime soon?" Clayton responded, his voice now clearly sounding a bit strained.

"It's too bad about all this snow. I think it would take some serious heat before we could even consider getting a round in."

"Any idea how the forecast is looking these days?" Clayton inquired, optimistically.

"There's a warming trend but I think golf season is still a ways away," I responded, trying to let him down easy.

"Well, if you ever need a partner, I'm always up for it."

"Duly noted," I replied with a smile.

Why is it that there's never a spark with the good ones?
I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart – E.E. Cummings

4. As I arrived home later that night at my tiny, ridiculously overpriced, apartment, now buried five high-rises deep from what my landlord swears used to be a beautiful view of Stanley Park, I felt a familiar bump against my leg as my roommate's enormous tabby cat, Kahlua, waddled over to greet me.

Even when I'm feeling a bit bloated and puffy, whenever I see that big fury belly swaying majestically just above the floor, I just can't help but feel a little bit better about myself.

From down the hall, a coquettish voice called out, "Hey sexy girl, you're home early. Did Clayton strike out again?"

My twenty-four year old roommate Elyse was a tiny, blonde, pixie with a prodigious libido. Her globetrotting parents were our notional landlords and they supplied Elyse with a generous allowance that kept her shopping on Robson Street and bartending solely for the social benefits and to show off her vast selection of practically non-existent outfits.

We had met shortly after I moved to Vancouver from Victoria to enter a legal assistant program and I had started working at the same bar as Elyse in order to pay for school. We hit it off immediately and had become roommates shortly thereafter.

"Elyse, you know that Clayton is just a buddy. He did take a shot again, though. It's kinda cute that he's so persistent, and it's definitely good for my ego, but I'm still not feeling a spark. He tries so hard that I almost feel like I'm being hunted and it makes me want to run. I want someone who can give me butterflies and, if I'm not at least a little bit nervous about how a guy feels about me, then there's probably not going to be any thrill from finding out that maybe he feels the way I want him to, you know?"

"Anna you're being so picky! He's loaded, he can hold a conversation and he's interested. I say you should give him a chance. Besides, you so need to move on and end things once and for all with icky Ricky."

Ricky was my current pseudo-boyfriend. On the plus side, he was drop dead gorgeous, had a great job as an engineer and he sent shivers down my spine every time our eyes met.

Unfortunately, he also managed to send that little voice in the back of my head screaming for the exits every time he opened those exquisite lips and I had to listen to another of his inane stories.

Our breakup was currently a work in progress.

As I mulled over my current options, I realized that Elyse may have had a point. My love life was currently a bit like a car with a dead battery – sorely in need of a jump.

"I still think that you should give Clayton a shot. Maybe there's a reason he's always wearing those high end suits? Cotton's a pretty forgiving fabric." Elyse continued with a wink.

"Maybe, but even if that's true, I want to feel a connection with someone, not just hop in to bed with someone who may, or may not, be able to keep up with Thumper."

"I'm all for connecting with someone but, until said guy makes an appearance, there's no harm in occasionally trying a guy on for size to see what he's packing. That little Italian guido that kept buying me shots last night ended up being a tripod. Who would have guessed!" Elyse said with a giggle.

I couldn't help but smile at her zest for life as I replied, "You know as well as I do that it's not like I've never tried that approach, but I'm holding out for the full package, if you'll pardon the expression. For now at least. Besides, I sort of ran into someone that seemed to have potential..."

"Really?! Why are you holding out on me? Dish already!" Elyse replied, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of a good story.

"Well, I was on my way in to work this morning and, just as I was taking a sip of my latte, a light changed right in front of me. I hit the brakes but it was super slippery and I kind of slid in to the car in front of me. I was so nervous when the other driver got out that I could barely talk. But, as it turns out, the guy I hit was really nice about everything. Zero temper and he even called me later just to see how I was. It was a pretty short conversation but there might have been a bit of a spark and it was really sweet of him to call."

Speaking of which, lawyers really need to band together and spend some of their millions on some better PR for their profession. Every movie and TV stereotype had me conditioned to expect that Jonathan would be in a full body cast by tomorrow and mysteriously suffering from a horrible case of whiplash. If, in fact, they weren't actually all evil incarnate, well, they should probably make that clear ahead of time to the dating public.

I continued on, saying, "How random would it be if he ends up asking me out? It was actually sort of romantic standing outside with the snow coming down and him being all suited up. Except for the part about my car being glued to his bumper and this old bat running up to tell him that she saw everything and it was all my fault!" I said with a laugh.

"That is so random!" Elyse replied excitedly. "Do you remember when I kind of merged into that minivan downtown and the mom freaked out on me for 10 minutes before calling the cops? I would have killed for it to have been a guy driving instead so that I could have worked a little magic on him. But your man hasn't asked you out yet?"

Prior to Bluetooth speakers being invented, Elyse had had her iPhone practically glued to her head when she drove and I had used every excuse I could think of not to set foot in her car ever since she had sent two bike riders sprawling head over handle bars when an incoming call sent us meandering into the bike lane.

As a result, her minivan story hadn't come as a huge shock to me, but I thought the look of feigned surprise that I had given her at the time was Oscar worthy.

"No, but I did ask him if we can skip insurance depending on the quote, so I guess we'll have to talk again tomorrow. I kind of want to see him again face to face. I was so nervous I don't even have a good mental image of him in my head. I haven't had butterflies talking to someone in so long. Hopefully he isn't just being nice until I pay up," I replied, wistfully.

"Well, make sure you wear something that will get his mind off his bumper and on to yours. Sam's back in town so I'm letting him take me for a ride tonight. Don't wait up," Elyse said with a lascivious grin.

Sam was a gorgeous Maori stud and their relationship had been the closest Elyse had come to a meaningful relationship since I had known her. He also happened to be a pilot with an executive jet service so he was out of town most of the time with work. It was an arrangement that seemed to work well for both of them given their busy, and non-exclusive, social calendars.

"Have fun flying the friendly skies," I grinned back at her, already looking forward to a nice warm bath and a glass of my favourite pinot noir.

Then, just as I was easing in to the water, my phone started to buzz. I looked down and read:

"I'm still feeling some good vibrations from this morning. Hope you run in to me again soon. Sweet dreams belle."

Aww, this was shaping up to be the best car accident ever! Please, please, please let new bumpers be cheap enough that I can go shoe shopping before I see him again.
Anyone who thinks sitting in a church can make you a Christian must also think that sitting in a garage can make you a car – Garrison Keillor

5. Ugh, waking up cold and alone in the middle of winter is absolutely no fun at all. There should be a national holiday for all of January so that everyone can head south, get some sun and not have to deal with this decidedly unfriendly shoe weather.

As I padded towards the washroom, still half asleep, out of nowhere I heard, "Hey Anna, love the bunnies."

Startled, I looked up and noticed that Sam had emerged from Elyse's room and was staring at my feet with a broad grin stretching across his chiselled face as he checked out my morning attire.

Running into Elyse's practically naked boy toy while I was decked out in my bunny slippers and a flannel nightgown was in no way improving my morning.

Mental note, no more shared washrooms in my future.

"Hey Sam, it's good to see you again. Did you and Elyse have a nice ride last night?"

"Did we ever!" Elyse replied for him as she emerged from the bedroom, stepping between us before running her nails along Sam's sculpted stomach.

"The snow kept us grounded but Sam had a bottle of Dom in the back and then we..."

"Then we watched the snow dance like the light dances in your eyes, right Ataahua?" Sam added, wrapping his massive arms around her and muzzling her before she could spill any juicy details about their night.

For all her endearing qualities, Elyse's lack of an internal filter occasionally made for some painfully intimate conversations. Sam's attempt to suppress yet another uncomfortably detailed conversation was something for which I was eternally indebted to him.

"Mmm, if you keep talking to me like that, you're going to have to take me for another ride before I let you go," Elyse said, pushing Sam forcefully back towards her bedroom.

"So Anna," she continued, as she turned to look back at me over her shoulder, "is tonight the night you finally get rid of Ricky?"

Ricky.

My soon to be, but not quite soon enough, ex (otherwise begrudgingly known as my current boyfriend) was an engineer who had come up from Argentina a few years to work for a large, multi-national, gold company.

With a head full of dark, curly hair, smouldering eyes and a wicked accent, Ricky was achingly pretty to look at and set parts of me on fire every time he so much as brushed the hair away from my face with his hand.

Unfortunately, every time he opened his mouth he churned my insides in a whole different way.

Ricky had been brought up in a strict Catholic household and those values had taken a firm hold on him. I had also put my time in on Sunday mornings in my youth and I wasn't one to judge, regardless of what one did or didn't believe in. Unfortunately for me, the only time he ever seemed to stop talking about how much he wanted to be with a good Catholic girl and how important values and family were to him, it was to tell me the mind-numbingly boring details about his job or his next project.

Talk about your no-win situation!

Sadly, my Sunday school experience had apparently had made me a satisfactory candidate for him. However, my own views on spirituality and my live and let live belief system left me wishing that I could just gag him, ride him, and then get the hell out of there before I had to listen to another 15 minute monologue on why people of different religious backgrounds don't work.

Sigh.

"This is the last time. One quick drink and I'm going to explain to him that things aren't going to work out between us and that he's getting the boot. I swear, he's like the evil twin brother of the guy in that Dos Equis commercial; he's the least interesting man in the world and there isn't enough liquor in the world to get him to loosen up," I replied, my stomach already churning at the thought of having to spend another evening in his company.

Even though I had managed to put his lips to better uses on a number of occasions, sadly, I had only managed to convince him to take things a step further on a handful of occasions.

While the memories of those infrequent entanglements still managed to raise my humidity levels every time those thoughts crept back into my imagination, the agony of the conversations the following mornings had left me promising myself that I would end it once and for all.

Caving in was not an option tonight.

Having left Elyse in Sam's very capable hands, I managed to safely navigate my drive to work with at least one hand firmly on the wheel at all times and with coffee only touching my lips briefly and while at a full and complete stop.

I was feeling slightly melancholy about not having spotted a sign of my new friend anywhere on my drive in until it suddenly dawned on me that I had left him without his wheels for the time being.

As I strode through the doors at a very respectable 8:03 a.m., I discovered Veronica perched in front of my desk, her hands clasped behind her back.

"Look what arrived for you," she said, pushing a gorgeous bouquet of oriental lilies towards me that she had been shielding from view.

"When you crunch someone's car, you get flowers. When I do it, I get a trip to traffic court and a new insurance company. Tell me how that's fair?" she huffed, before letting out a resigned sigh.

"I may have accidentally glanced at the name on the card," she continued, smiling at me as she handed me a note.

I excitedly snatched the note from her to find the following:

To whom it may concern:

On January 21, 2012, my vehicle was violently and brutally maimed by a woman in a caffeine-fuelled collision (shot in the dark here, but you wrote your number on the back of a Starbucks receipt ). Even in my woozy condition, it became apparent that I had suffered irreparable physical damage to my cardiac muscle as my assailant looked criminally angelic in the falling snow and spoke with a wickedly tremulous voice that I just can't get out of my head.

You are hereby notified that I will be commencing action for both compensatory damages for my physical pain and punitive damages for the mental anguish caused by having to speak to that shrill older woman who insisted that I take a statement from her in case court proceedings were required.

However, if you wish to avoid a lengthy and vigorous court battle, I am willing to accept the following settlement:

1. As you appeared to suffer the loss of most of your coffee, I think we can say that we're even on the bumper.

2. You agree to keep your eyes on the road in the future, just in case I take an interest in your future well-being.

3. You agree to let me take you to Chambar on Friday at 8. For the safety of all, I will drive :)

Should you wish to agree to all settlement terms proposed hereunder, you may reply, post haste, to (604) 555-0396.

Regards,

Jonathan

"Well?" Veronica asked, looking at me expectantly, "What does it say?"

"I think it's telling me that I need to go shopping," I replied, still stunned by what I had read as a broad smile started to creep across my face. "Not only is he covering the cost of the bumper repair, but he wants to take me to Chambar on Friday night."

"Seriously? That's unbelievable! How hard did you hit this guy?" she retorted with a laugh. "The next time it snows, I'm just going to cruise around looking for a cute guy to bump into."

"Well, just in case whomever you find is already taken or not quite as forgiving as Jonathan, I'd say aim for a guy with a truck so you can avoid a few sleepless nights spent wondering how you're going to be able to pay both your rent and a repair bill. Now scoot! I have to accept this offer before he realizes he's a lawyer and he's not supposed to be this nice!"

My heart had been pounding so furiously as I had read Jonathan's note that I was worried I might pass out. I had been expecting the worst and it was such a huge relief to realize that I wasn't going to have to hawk any of my shoes to cover the repair bill.

Plus, he even had great taste in flowers.

Or his assistant did.

Perhaps it was just as well if he wasn't that metro anyway?

Okay girl, deep breath; here we go...

"Jonathan Hunter speaking, how can I help you?" Jonathan's typically tranquil voice sounded strained and his greeting flew at me quickly.

"Well hello there. I'm surprised you answer you own calls Mr. Hunter," I replied saucily.

"Ah, what an unexpected treat to hear your voice on the other end of the line," he replied, his voice immediately taking on a more relaxed tone.

"I received an urgent settlement offer this morning and, after deliberating with my counsel, I thought I should call to discuss the terms," I responded, struggling to keep the excitement out of my voice.

"Did you find the terms of my offer to be fair?"

"Hmm, well that depends. Was that the full extent of the settlement? There isn't any expectation that you will be filing your briefs on my nightstand Friday night is there?"

I was being a bit cheeky, and I wasn't even entirely sure that I would be opposed to that notion, but I wanted to silence that little voice in the back of my head that was wondering exactly what he was expecting in return for covering the repair costs.

"No, not at all. The letter contained the full extent of my offer. If new facts arise at dinner, then I'll present my case to you and you can render your verdict in due course, but as far as the accident goes, we're all square and there are zero expectations in terms of any form of repayment," he replied, sounding relatively sincere about it.

That could all be BS of course, but at least it was the right BS.

"Okay, well in that case, I'm at 909 Richards Street. Give me a ring when you're close and I'll pop down. Thank you for the flowers by the way. They're beautiful," I replied, my mind already drifting towards thoughts of what I was going to wear to dinner.

"I'm glad you liked them. The florist told me they represent purity. I thought it was appropriate given the snow flakes and such that brought us together."

So he did buy them himself.

Interesting.

Metro or not, it wasn't a bad start on his part.

"That's so sweet of you. I'm looking forward to Friday," I said, the excitement in my voice completely genuine.

"Likewise, and I'll see you then," Jonathan replied before hanging up.

This wasn't turning out to be such a bad week after all. Better yet, now I really did have a reason to go shopping!
It is long accepted by missionaries that morality is inversely proportional to the amount of clothing people wore – Alex Carey

6. Later that night, I found myself opening the door to Bishop's having spent far too much time in front of the mirror and showing a bit more cleavage than I had originally intended.

I had been holding out hope for weeks that I could eventually get Ricardo to loosen up and display any semblance of a personality. But, as I walked to the table secure in the knowledge that I was seeing Jonathan on Friday, I was already wishing that I had forgone the makeup and thrown on a turtle neck because all I wanted to do was drop him like the bad habit that he was, once and for all.

"I was starting to worry," Ricky said as he stood up to greet me, his smouldering brown eyes staring at me intently.

Ricky was an incessant worrier. The last time he had picked me up, he had arrived 10 minutes early and I got out of the shower to find three increasingly concerned voicemails waiting for me.

Every man should know by the age of twenty-five that promptness from one's date was like an unexpected wonder of the nature, sort of like a solar eclipse. You express gratitude for it when it occurs and don't expect a reoccurrence anytime in the next year or so.

On the other hand, showing up early was more akin to provoking a natural disaster similar in nature to a volcanic eruption and you did not want to become one of the fleeing villagers!

Ricky was clearly unaware of these basic dating norms, and seriously, who has the time to properly train a man these days?

"Well, that's sweet of you, but I was just a bit delayed due to all the snow. Have you ordered any wine yet?" I inquired with more optimism than previous dates with Ricky should have engendered.

"No, I was on the phone with my manager and I just got a new project. We're going to be creating a completely original gravel crushing procedure. I've been so excited to tell you about it."

Groan.

"That's sounds so exciting. Why don't we order some wine first and then you can tell me all about it."

Was it bad form to order multiple bottles at once? I really should have done something productive at work today like coming up with some plausible excuses to get me out of here as soon as possible.

Something biblical would probably do the trick. I wonder what body part I would have to slice off for him to believe I have leprosy?

"I'll mention it when the waitress comes by. But listen, because we're getting deeper into the mine, we have to create a high pressure system to crush and extract the gravel. I'm going to have to find a way to increase the pressure without compromising the integrity of the machines," he replied, with a gleam in his eye that suggested that this agonizing conversation was going to continue full steam ahead, with no end in sight.

Great, he's crushing rocks. Didn't Fred Flintstone master that job about 70 years ago? Hmm, I wonder what Wilma had been doing to make Fred go 'yabba dabba do!' all the time?

"Basically, right now our gravel is about this size," Ricky said, holding his thumb and forefinger in a circle, "and due to the pressure at that depth and the composition of the rock, I need to modify the crusher so that it's about this size," holding his fingers together in a slightly smaller circle.

"Do you get it?" he asked, still staring intently at me.

No, and I've only gotten it three times in the two months this brutal ordeal has lasted you pompous dill-hole. So, before I hand you your walking papers, how about we get out of here and you can give it to me one last time while I discretely gag you so that I can truly enjoy the experience?

"I think so. You need to find a way to make the gravel smaller without breaking anything?" I responded, whilst doing my best to feign the slightest interest in his rock crushing story.

Where was that wine already?

Two agonizing hours later, after receiving a graduate level lesson in rock crushing, I was ready to break the news to him and go home to a very large glass of wine.

"Rick, I need to talk to you about us for a second," I began hesitantly, sounding far more tentative than I had intended.

He leaned forward intently as he responded, "That's great; I wanted to talk to you too. Things have been going so well between us. Should we go back to your place and chat after I take care of the cheque?"

Oh balls! Well, I had put up with him for this long. I suppose there was no harm having a little fun before parting ways. Besides, maybe it would give him a fond memory to look back on when I break the news that his search for a morally compatible life partner was not going to end tonight.

"Okay, sure, that sounds great," I mumbled, trying to hide the self-loathing I was currently experiencing.

I was so going to regret this moment of weakness in a couple of hours.

After having made our way to my place and, as we were lying in bed, half clothed, with my lips desperately trying to keep his shut, Ricky hit me with the oh so romantic question of, "So, how do you reconcile working with divorce lawyers and being a Catholic?"

I was mentally flagellating myself for being so weak-willed around the sight of his perfect pecs as I blithely responded, "Well, Jesus did do some of his best work with sinners and prostitutes."

No sooner were the words out of my mouth when I dove for his lovely, firm member, casting aside any remaining shreds of dignity in an valiant effort to shut him up completely before this ridiculously inopportune conversation could continue.

"But don't you think it makes it harder for you to respect the institution of marriage and all that it represents when you are constantly in that environment?" he replied, with an air of indignation.

Seriously buddy? I've got you in my mouth, I'm doing the best job I can under stressful circumstances, it's not like there's a ring on my finger while you're letting me do this, and you're worried about my views on the institution of marriage?!

"Well, it just reminds me how lucky I am to be with a moral man like yourself, Ricky," I said between mouthfuls before pushing him back against a pillow as I spun around to climb on top of him.

"But doesn't it make you uncomfortable being around people profiting from that sort of situation?" he replied, as I eased him inside me.

"Maybe I little" I responded.

Forget a little, this feels like a lot!

"It doesn't upset you?"

"Not really."

However, the fact that you're still talking right now is upsetting my flow completely. Please, please shut your lovely mouth!

"Have you thought about quitting?"

"Yes."

No, no, don't stop!

"Are you close to making a decision?"

"I'm not sure."

Getting pretty close. Let's keep this going!

"To be honest, I'm not sure if I can continue to see you if you're working in that place."

"Okay, if that's how you feel."

OMG, you feel so good! I'm so close!

"Maybe we should just part ways then?"

"Yes, yes, OH MY GOD YES!!!"

Well, that was easily my best breakup ever!

It's always nice when there's a moment of complete emotional and physical agreement in a relationship.
I have often regretted my speech, never my silence – Xenocrates

7. As I strolled into the office the next morning at a practically punctual 8:04 a.m., I was feeling euphoric. I suppose successfully removing a 190 lb. weight off one's shoulders will do that for a girl.

Sliding into my seat next to Veronica, I wasn't sure if I was more excited about the new man in my life or having finally punted the old one to the curb.

As I turned to face Veronica to tell her about my evening, I recoiled in horror as I glanced at her face.

"Veronica, what happened to you?" I exclaimed. "Were you on a date with Chris Brown last night?!" I continued in jest, as I stared up into two puffy black eyes that her makeup was unsuccessfully struggling to obscure.

"I know, I know. I look like a bit like a racoon, don't I? I'm so glad Maggie is in meetings all day today. I was worried that she was going to tell me to go home and make me use a vacation day," Veronica replied, the stress evident in her voice.

"So, what's the story?" I enquired, struggling to even fathom a guess as to what could have left her looking like this.

"Well, my co-ed volleyball team was playing last night and right after I served, I noticed that I was having a bit of a wardrobe malfunction with my top."

Veronica was barely 5'3 but she was all curves so any malfunction that occurred had the potential to put someone's eye out if she wasn't careful.

"I was standing there trying to quickly adjust things before anyone noticed and I wasn't really paying attention to the game. Anyway, somebody on the other team cranked a spike right at me while I wasn't paying attention. I looked up just in time to take it off the end of my nose. It's not broken, thank God, but I ended up face down on the court and seeing stars. Derek came to my rescue and carried me off the court before he checked me out. He said that I'll be fine and I don't need to have it set or anything but it's going to be a while before the swelling goes down."

Derek was a paramedic that Veronica has been flirting with non-stop for the past few months and, if I had to guess, his presence on the court was most likely the reason for the outfit that had malfunctioned.

"He was so sweet when I got hurt. He sat with me for the rest of the game and even iced my nose for me. Eventually, when the swelling went down a bit, he felt around again and told me that he didn't think it was broken and then he kissed the tip of my nose. I was definitely not feeling sexy at that point, but that perked me up a bit and, right after that, he finally asked me out! I don't know if it's worth looking like Mike Tyson's punching bag to finally get a date with him, but at least I don't have to worry about explaining what happened when he picks me up," Veronica concluded, an excited grin spreading across her cherub face.

"That sounds like quite the night! And Maggie hasn't seen you, yet?" I inquired, anxiously.

Especially after my recent incident, we were both well aware that the ice queen was not the understanding type.

"No, she's been locked in her office ever since I got in this morning," Veronica replied, glancing down the hall, uneasily.

"Okay, if she heads this way, just scoot into the kitchen and I'll get rid of her," I continued, not wanting to lose my partner in crime while she healed up.

Changing the topic, I continued, "I'm so happy for you that Derek finally manned up and asked you out. Has he come up with any plans for your date yet?"

"No, I told him to hold off for a while until my current resemblance to a raccoon starts to fade. How was your night? Did you end things with Rick?"

"Yes, it's finally over and done with and it was far and away the best breakup I've ever had. After a gruelling couple of hours at the restaurant, somehow we ended up back at my place. The conversation was heinous, as always, but it worked out beautifully! Basically I came, he went, and it was all over," I replied with a massive grin proudly plastered across my face.

As Veronica gazed at me with a look of astonishment, I continued, "He didn't think he could handle the idea of me continuing to work in a morally corrupt environment and there was no way in hell I was going to try to change his mind. He kept talking through the whole thing if you can believe it? Basically he asked me if we should go our separate ways just as I was, umm, starting to completely appreciate his position." I concluded with a smirk.

"At that point I couldn't really help myself from loudly agreeing with him. He was so offended that he just rolled over, put his pants on, grabbed his shirt and he was out the door before my legs had stopped shaking. It was easily the best breakup I've ever had!"

"That's amazing! It's nice that, after boring you to death for so long, he could at least provide some satisfaction on his way out," Veronica replied.

"And even more so on the way in," I retorted, giggling loudly enough to warrant an icy glare from Maggie's through her office window.

The situation did not improve when Paul burst out of one of our boardrooms, his face a crimson red.

"What's up buddy?" I asked as he collapsed on the side of the desk.

"There are days when I absolutely love this job," he exclaimed, breathing deeply as he finally looked up.

"So, you both know about the Bzedniks right?" Paul asked with a gleam in his eye.

Petr Bzednik was about 5'8, balding, paunchy and completely non-descript physically. Unfortunately, he tried to compensate by wearing ridiculously loud knock off Versace shirts that could only have been appropriate if he had retired to Florida in the 80s. Worse yet, he habitually left them unbuttoned low enough to show off a hint of his pudgy, sagging man breasts, which were partially obscured by his, all natural, fur coat.

On the other hand, he seemed to be a decent businessman and he had done fairly well for himself financially as a restaurant owner. This fact was something which we all suspected may have played no small part in his wife Bianca's initial 'attraction' to him, as her own physical assets were substantial, especially in relation to her husband's.

Bianca had originally come to us with the accusation that Petr had cheated on her, which, if true, would have been a violation of their pre-nup and would have then entitled her to half of their marital assets.

Unfortunately for Bianca, she had thus far been unable to provide any sort of concrete evidence to support her accusations and Petr had vehemently denied everything.

Petr's protestations that he had never touched a woman other than his wife seemed all too believable every time I had the misfortune of laying eyes on the man.

"Don't tell me that she finally managed to get some dirt on him?" I replied, idly wondering to myself just how much bling Petr would have to place in front of a girl for the glare to distract her from the ape-like creature sitting across the table.

"Well, get this. Apparently Petr's kept a pet parrot for years. Bianca can't stand the bird and she made Petr lock it up in his den. But, because Petr was away on business for a couple of days recently, she had to feed it and apparently it started getting chatty with her. So, after hearing what this bird had to say, she decided to record some of its greatest hits and she brought the tape to our settlement meeting today. She didn't even give her counsel a head's up; she just hit play right after Petr once again denied all her accusations. I can't remember all of it, but my favourites were:

Tell daddy you're a naughty girl;

Spank me harder; and

Not yet, not yet, not yet!"

"I almost lost it when I heard that last one and Petr's face went the color of an eggplant. Anyway, Petr's counsel immediately asked for a short break to discuss things but I heard Bianca's counsel tell her that she might want to start house hunting tonight. I don't know what the chances are of getting this bird's testimony admitted into evidence, but I don't think there's any way Petr wants to risk his parrot spilling his secrets in open court," Paul concluded, still beaming from the experience.

"It looks like Christmas isn't the only thing in Bianca's life that came early," I said, my eyes still moist from the laughter after hearing Paul's parrot impersonation.

Ricardo could think what he wanted to about the morals involved in divorce work, but you certainly couldn't beat it for the entertainment value.
The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing – Edmund Burke

8. That night, I arrived at my yoga studio with Veronica in tow, both of us feeling the need to sweat off a few pounds. We were planning to go shopping for my Friday dinner outfit tomorrow and I was determined not to bring any remnants of my Christmas dinner on that journey.

Of course, if I happened to find inner peace and tranquility in the process, so much the better.

As we waded through a densely crowded sea of toned and taut, lulu clad, yogis, I eventually spotted an opening and we made a quick dash for it.

Sadly, I soon discovered why this particular spot had been left open. As Veronica and I laid out our mats on the floor, I glanced around and came face to face with what I had feared most perched on the mat next to me; inappropriate intentions yoga man.

Averting my eyes as quickly as I could, I noted that his gaze was already laser locked onto my chest as I laid out my mat.

I tried to quickly turn back towards Veronica before he could attempt to strike up a conversation, but I wasn't quite fast enough. Stuck in mid-turn, I was hit with what I was sure was a well-practiced line.

"Hi there, would you like me to help you loosen up before class? I just got back from Indonesia and I learned some amazing moves," he asked, shifting his body so that he was now uncomfortably close to my mat.

Yeah, like how to leave one hand jammed suspiciously down your pocket while you leer at my chest. Sorry buddy, I just can't stop my breasts from staring at your eyes. What were you saying?

"No, thanks, I'm fine" I responded, doing my best to be polite without showing a hint of interest as I not so subtly turned back towards Veronica.

"Do you come here often?" he continued, his eyes still unable to reach neck level.

Seriously, that's the best you can come up with despite your repertoire of 'amazing moves'?

"Usually just with my boyfriend," I replied, deciding it was time to give him a less subtle hint.

"Looks like he couldn't make it out today, huh?"

Wow, you're either really thick or just way too persistent for your own good.

"His MMA training ran late. He's going to meet me and my friend after the class."

Am I the only one who thinks that men should get pulled aside in high school for a lesson in manners? And maybe while they're in there someone could mention that skin-tight pants weren't intended for most members of their species.

Thankfully, Veronica had picked up on my predicament and kept up a steady stream of conversation that precluded any further interruptions until class began.

"Maybe this is your karma's way of balancing itself out?" she whispered to me as she nodded towards my buddy with a giggle.

"First you have a random encounter with an amazing guy then, to get back to equilibrium, you get stuck next to a douche at yoga who's undoubtedly here because it's the only place he doesn't have to pay to see girls spread their legs."

Veronica could have been right but it was still a fair trade in my mind. Well, it would be assuming that my new buddy eventually took a hint.

Fifteen minutes or so into the class, I had managed to work up a decent sweat and it was only partially induced by my fear of turning over and having my neighbour loose an eye in my cleavage.

Then, just as I was starting to relax and lose myself in the rhythm of the class, I felt two hands firmly grasp my hips. I knew from the distance of the instructor's voice that my unwanted friend had stepped things up as he murmured into my ear, "You're a bit stiff, why don't you just let my hands guide you."

At that point, totally fed up by the uninvited invasion of my personal space, I snapped.

I popped to my feet, pushing his hands away as I said as loudly as I could, "I don't need to know how stiff your tiny little bit is, get your hands off me now! If you're looking to get something rubbed, go to a massage parlor!"

At that point, he stumbled backwards towards his mat in obvious shock. He quickly grabbed his mat and gear before staggering out of the room, head down, mumbling incoherently under his breathe.

As I was collecting myself, Veronica gave me a quick hug and whispered, "I'm so proud of you babe," as the rest of the class briefly began to applaud.

I don't know if that particular experience was one of the suggested stops on the route to finding inner peace and tranquility, but it certainly had gotten me in touch with my inner voice.

Half an hour later, after class had ended and as I was walking out to my car, I heard my phone buzzing with an incoming text.

Like almost every other member of my generation, my phone has become pretty much an additional appendage and I quickly snatched it out of my purse and found the following waiting for me:

Shortly after you introduced me to your fender,

You left me smitten by your splendour,

No need to call a public defender,

As speechless was I rendered.

I'm looking forward to Friday,

Jonathan

Aww, way to bounce back karma.
I love mankind, it's people I can't stand – Charles M. Schulz

9. The next day, during our criminally short lunch break, Veronica and I made a beeline for Pacific Centre. Not that I needed much of an excuse to shop, but Friday's dinner felt like it called for something new and fetching.

We soon found ourselves perusing the wares of one of my favourite independent stores and, while I was still firmly clinging to the belief that my figure is reasonably svelte, I quickly discovered that my curves were knocking a fair number of outfits out of contention for my fashion dollar.

After diligently searching most of the store, I was beginning to think that my search was going to be fruitless when I spotted a new candidate out of the corner of my eye.

As I reached up to get a better look at a stunning, off the shoulder, lacy black and purple dress, a voice unexpectedly piped up out of nowhere, "That's a gorgeous dress but we only have it in stock in sizes 6 and under. All the bigger sizes are on backorder for a couple of weeks."

As I spun around to figure out where this unsolicited intrusion had come from, I glanced downward to find a tiny, five foot nothing, sales girl with 'curves' that would not have stood out amongst a group of 10 year old boys, sizing me up from head to toe.

"Size 6 should be just about perfect, I think," I responded caustically, shooting her a withering glare while I tried my best to bite my tongue.

"Apparently these girls aren't on commission, eh?" Veronica whispered conspiratorially. "I think she's just jealous that some of us actually have cleavage."

"As soon as she comes back to the change room and knocks on that door, I'm asking her for a size 4 no matter how this fits me," I replied, leaking out a bit more venom than I had intended.

Maybe that was a bit petty, but hey, she started it!

After a brief, and silent, struggle (there was no way I was going to let my androgynous salesperson know that the 6 was indeed a tight fit) to squeeze the girls into place, I invited Veronica in to survey the results.

"Wow babe, give me a couple of drinks and I think that I'd be trying to get you out of that dress myself. You look dead sexy in that," Veronica noted with approval as I gave her a quick twirl.

"It's not too much?" I asked. "It's a first date. I want to show off a tiny bit but I don't want him to get the wrong impression either."

Okay, maybe I wouldn't mind if he got a hint of the wrong impression. But only a hint.

At that moment, the world's most obnoxious salesgirl rapped on the door before saying, "Hi ladies, just checking to see if you were able to get into the 6 or if you want me to put an 8 on hold for you when it comes in?"

Seriously? It's on biotch!

"The 6 isn't too bad, but it's a bit loose around my hips though. Could you bring me a four please, sweetie?" I replied, my voice dripping with fake sincerity.

I'm not normally one for playing games, but a girl can only be pushed so far.

"Should we tell her that we would be more comfortable with a female salesperson when she comes back?" Veronica whispered to me, scathingly.

"I'm dying to tell her that my nephew has that same absolutely adorable haircut that she does, but I don't want her to 'accidentally' rip my dress at the counter," I replied.

"You're awful!" Veronica retorted, trying to choke back her laughter.

Seemingly out of nowhere came our new friend's sickly sweet voice saying, "Here's the 4. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Thanks so much, dear," I replied, unsuccessfully attempting to feign a similar level of sweetness.

Several minutes of deliberation later, Veronica and I emerged from the dressing room. I carried my find to the counter as I idly pondered what Jonathan would be wearing tomorrow night.

"So did the 4 work out for you?" she inquired, the faintest hint of a smirk playing across her face.

How did I know that she would take it there?

"The 4 was perfect around my hips but I'm a bit too blessed up top," I replied, trying my hardest to keep a straight face.

The 6 had been enough of a struggle to squeeze into as it was and I might be challenging the laws of physics if I ever had to bend over in it.

As the salesgirl handed me my bag, she got in one final dig, remarking, "If you're trying it on at home and you decide anything needs to be altered or let out, just let us know. We have a great seamstress available. She's a miracle worker."

"If I need anything sewn shut, she'll be the first person to know," I murmured to Veronica as we exited, my dignity trailing somewhat loosely in tow.
Commitment is an act, not a word – Jean-Paul Sarte

10. Returning home that night, I was pumped to try on my dress again and to get Elyse's opinion on my new purchase. Unfortunately, from the moment I walked into the living room, it was immediately apparent that my sartorial splendor was not going to be a priority for the night.

I spotted Elyse squished into a corner of the couch with an almost empty wine bottle perched precariously in front of her; no glass anywhere in sight. As she vacantly gazed at a Jersey Shore re-run, it was obvious that something was bothering her even more than Snooki's forthcoming book on parenting.

"Are you trying to cut down on the dishes?" I asked with a diffident smile as I nodded towards the wine bottle.

"The fucker wants a commitment," she replied, scowling off into space as she took another swig from the bottle.

"He proposed?" I inquired, incredulously.

"Are you kidding me? No. I would have smacked him senseless. He told me that he wants us to be exclusive. I don't get it. We've had a great thing going for almost a year now. No pressure, we see each other when he's in town, and it's perfect. Best sex of my life, no jealousy, he does his thing, I do mine, and he has to go and throw it all out the window because out of nowhere he wants a commitment. I'm only 24 and he's not even in town half the time anyway!" she wailed, plaintively, before settling back into the couch with an expression that wouldn't have been out of place on a toddler that had just been told that Disneyland was closing.

Treading lightly, I asked, "So, when you say he asked for a commitment, was he talking about moving in together?"

"No, he just said that he's seen enough to know when he's found something special. He said he adores me and he doesn't want to be with anyone but me. Look, I know that it was sweet of him to say and everything, it really was, but it freaked me out! When he said it, I just wanted to run for the door. I don't know that I'm ready for a commitment or if that's even what I want," Elyse replied, her voice trailing off.

While Sam's dalliances abroad were about the only downside I had ever seen in him (and clearly not something that bothered Elyse since she was consistenly doing likewise here whenever he was gone), I was certainly not going to share my thoughts on the topic with Elyse while she was in her current state.

"How did you leave things with him?" I inquired, hoping her volcanic temper hadn't caused a fissure that she wouldn't be able to repair after she'd had some time to calm down.

"I told him that I didn't see why we need to change anything but I needed some time to think...or drink, I can't remember which," she said, as she downed the rest of the bottle in a single swig and headed to the kitchen to replenish her supply.

"But I've got a bit of a headache, so screw thinking. I'm definitely going with drinking for now. I'm getting two glasses so sit your fabulous ass down and get comfortable. How did your shopping trip go?" she asked, nodding towards my new purchase.

"Well, the salesgirl was being a bit of a cow, but I think the dress I found was worth the trouble," I replied as I held the dress up against me, happy to change the topic for a moment.

"That's a great cut! Let's see how it looks on you," Elyse said, settling back into the couch for the show.

After squeezing myself into the dress yet again, I stepped back into the room and asked, "So, what do you think?" as I did a slow twirl in front of Elyse.

"Wow, that looks amazing!" she exclaimed. "Glad you went with something that shows off the girls a bit for once. A few more glasses of wine and Jonathan might have a bit of competition in trying to get you out of that dress," she said with a wink.

I knew full well that Elyse's sexual proclivities were not strictly limited to men but, while we may have gotten a bit playful once or twice at the bar, it was going to take a whole lot of wine before anything more than that ever happened.

"You know, since you're obviously annoyed with Sam right now, maybe I'll just slip into something that's a little less tempting," I replied teasingly, batting my eyelashes at her coquettishly as I went to change.

All kidding aside, I was far more worried about the second bottle wine she was currently chugging than potentially having to fend her off.

However, by the time I got back to the living room, Elyse had already curled up into a little ball on the couch and passed out.

As I covered her with a blanket, I couldn't help thinking it was a bit ironic that she had drank herself into a stupor because she was terrified of committing to a guy who seemed to be her perfect match while it took risking life and limb in my car for me just to find a promising date!
I don't judge others. I say; if you feel good with what you're doing, let your freak flag fly – Sarah Jessica Parker

11. The next day, work flew by in a rush of appointments and calls.

People tended to find visits to our offices to be less enjoyable, and even more expensive, than a trip to the dentist. So, not surprisingly, a lot of people put off their appointments until the end of the week.

Our last client before lunch was far and away our most interesting specimen.

At least he certainly was to my eyes.

Sean Donovan had made millions after dropping out of university and starting his own tech company, which he had subsequently sold to Microsoft.

Although he was rumoured to be quite brilliant, he looked the complete opposite from how I would have pictured a tech genius.

Scruffy, muscular and with an arrogance that bordered on conceitedness, he had a presence that was larger than life.

Based on my own interactions with him, as well as a few stories I had heard around the office, I got the distinct impression that he viewed women similarly to how a hungry lion might view a wounded gazelle; easy prey.

On the other hand, having been on the other side of his intense, steely gaze a few times, the idea of being consumed by him didn't seem totally unappealing.

I knew that he had married his current wife, Natasha, a gorgeous but vapid brunette, after a whirlwind trip through eastern Asia.

Apparently, things had gone south quickly from there.

Prior to meeting Sean, Natasha had modelled and worked in Japan; ostensibly 'entertaining' Japanese businessmen over dinner and such.

Based on her never-ending supply of designer bags and shoes, it was obvious that she had an appreciation for the finer things in life and, based the gossip I had heard around the office, it sounded like she was willing to do whatever it took to obtain them.

Unfortunately for her, rumour had it that Sean had quickly become disenchanted, both with married life and financing Natasha's astronomical spending habits, and had been back on the hunt almost immediately after they married.

After reaching an impasse with her attorneys, he had availed himself of our services in an attempt to free himself as quickly as possible from his entanglement.

Today, as he rolled into our office fifteen minutes late for his appointment (but really, who am I to judge someone on punctuality) with his biceps straining at the fabric of his wrinkled t-shirt, he looked like he had just rolled out of bed as he approached my desk.

The presence he exuded was undeniable and I wasn't sure if I wanted to toss a sweater on over my blouse and hide myself from him or hop up on the counter, wrap my legs around him and see what all the fuss was about.

Either way, the nervous energy he created inside me was intoxicating.

"Anna," he grunted at me, his voice sounding even more gravelly than usual as his piercing pale blue eyes held my gaze until I timidly looked down at my screen.

"Hi Sean, how're you today? Paul should be ready for you any moment now," I replied, looking up again in time to notice that his gaze had wandered directly to my cleavage.

"Can I get you a glass of water or a cup of coffee while you're waiting," I inquired politely, as I reflexively covered my chest with my arms.

I couldn't even imagine what a neurotic mess I would have been after a few weeks in Thailand or the Philippines with someone like Sean. Nevertheless, I was pretty sure that I was going to be spending part of the afternoon pondering the idea, anyway.

"Any chance you've got a bottle of whiskey hidden back there somewhere?" he asked while glancing around the office with the air of a caged lion longing to escape his shackles.

"Sorry, espresso's the strongest drink I can offer you," I replied, not entirely sure how to respond to his unexpected query.

"Figures, you don't exactly seem the type," he retorted brusquely, as he turned away from me dismissively.

The type?! Like I'm too prissy to drink shots while sitting across from your conceited mug?

At that point, something in me snapped and I briefly parted ways with common sense as I retorted, "Hemingway's is just a couple of blocks away if you can make it through your session."

This time my eyes held his firmly as he quietly gazed at me while he considered the offer I had alluded to.

What was I doing? I couldn't go even if he said yes. Plus, I already had a date with an amazing guy that night to look forward to.

But part of me still really wanted him to say yes...

He looked me over appraisingly, with no hint of subtlety whatsoever, as he replied, "I've got a flight right after this session. I'm heading to Fiji for the next three weeks or so. Interested in going for a ride with me?"

Well, that sort of one-ups going for drinks now, doesn't it?

I gulped as I took a moment to ponder Sean's proposition.

It had been out of character for me to suggest drinks. Spending three weeks with a still-married man that I barely knew and who had a reputation for churning through women would involve straying far beyond my comfort zone.

"Maggie would fire me on the spot. We're not allowed to fraternize with our clients outside of the office," I replied, acutely aware of how timorous my response was.

Sean pondered my answer for a minute, blatantly checking me out one last time before leaning in close to me as he said, "I've got what I hope will be my last session here right after I get back and then I'm done with this. If you ever want to get a taste of something stronger than what's currently on offer here, let me know."

As I sat there pondering how to respond, I heard fierce, dueling voices arguing inside my head.

The angel on one shoulder was imploring with me to behave and to tell Sean in no uncertain terms that I wasn't interested.

The devil on the other shoulder was pleading with me to send the angel a post card from Fiji.

The second voice was making a convincing argument.

Thankfully, Paul, timely for once in his life, came out to collect Sean and saved me from having to respond.

Thank God I was going to have a few weeks to consider this one...
The most beautiful makeup of a woman is passion. But cosmetics are easier to buy – Yves Saint-Laurent

12. Once Sean had left the office, I made a conscious decision to put any thoughts regarding his offer on the back burner while I focused on my plans for the evening.

As part of my preparation for dinner, I had to briefly flee the office to get my nails done. The exquisite perfection of my resultant French manicure was matched only by the intense agony suffered by my cuticles as my tiny Korean manicurist adroitly manicured my nails with all the compassion of an IRS tax agent during audit season.

If men had any idea what we put ourselves through in order to look coiffed and fabulous, I'm positive that no girl would ever again find herself sitting across from some guy why smelt like stale beer or having to spoon someone whose body was hairier than his head.

After work, I hustled home to complete my preparations only to find Elyse still skulking about the condo like a caged animal.

"Hey kid, how're things going?" I inquired tentatively, not wanting to mention Sam unless she decided to take the conversation in that direction.

"Not a call, not a text, nothing," Elyse retorted, spitting out her reply with disgust.

"You would think that if I meant so much to him, he would at least be making an effort to make me feel better about this situation," she continued despondently.

"Well, you did ask him for some time to think. Maybe he's just trying to respect that?" I responded, doing my best to be supportive while at the same time ensuring that I devoted enough time to looking somewhere in the neighbourhood of spectacular for my date with Jonathan.

"Since when do guys ever listen to, let alone hear, what we say to them?" Elyse responded bitterly as she threw the cork from her bottle of shiraz at a picture of Sam above the fireplace, causing it to teeter precipitously on the mantle for what felt like ages before settling back on its frame.

For a petite girl, she had a rocket of an arm.

"Maybe he's trying to show you that he cares about what you want?" I replied before inhaling sharply as I struggled to squeeze into my new dress, all the while silently cursing myself for having subsisted primarily on a diet of wine, cheese and chocolate over the holidays.

"Maybe I just need to polish off this bottle and go find myself a man for the night," Elyse retorted brusquely.

"Besides, I'm only 24. If he really cares about me, he should just have kept things the way they were!" she continued, her temper coming dangerously close to erupting.

Not really wanting to go down that particular conversational path with Elyse, I gave her a moment to compose herself before stepping into the living room as I said "So, how do I look?" while I shot her a sultry stare over my shoulder.

"Wow babe, you're really going all out tonight huh?" she responded, pushing a glass of wine my way.

I reached for it gratefully, thinking that my own nerves could use a little calming as well.

Just as I sat down, the buzzer for our door went off. I hopped back up and I was greeted by Jonathan's deep, yet ever so nicely modulated, voice on the other end.

"Come on up," I replied, before briefly turning back to Elyse.

"Why don't you give Sam a call and try to talk things out? He's always been a pretty stand-up guy," I told her, giving her a quick hug and hoping she wasn't going to toss away someone that I was pretty sure she would regret losing.

"I'll think about it. In the meantime, go have a great time and don't even think about coming home tonight," she said as she affectionately swatted me on the bum.

As I waited for Jonathan to arrive, I was acutely aware that I had butterflies in my stomach for the first time in longer than I could remember.

You hit his car the last time you met and he still wanted to take you to dinner, I reminded myself.

That's a pretty low bar to clear for tonight. Just don't throw up on him and you should be just fine...
We never forget those who make us blush – Jean-Francois De La Harpe

13. Upon hearing a knock at the door, I opened it to find Jonathan doing an admirable job of filling the doorway and looking quite chic in a charcoal grey suit with a Burberry tie. As I stepped towards him, he gave me a warm hug and the scent of his aftershave sent shivers pulsating down the length of my spine.

"Wow, you look gorgeous. I've been wondering if you might have just been a beautiful apparition I dreamed up," he exclaimed, smiling at me.

"Well, if I was, at least your car would still be in one piece. Hopefully I'm worth all the trouble," I said, grinning back at him.

"I wouldn't change a thing," he responded sweetly. "Oh, also, I got you a little something," he continued, pulling a small glass case from behind his back and handing it to me.

Staring at a delicate stem of tiny pink buds, I replied softly, "Those are beautiful. What are they?"

"It's a pink shamrock stem. Not only are they supposed to be good luck, but they even come with their own case and I know how women love to accessorize," he responded as he flashed me his own pearly whites.

I started to giggle quietly, my face taking on a reddish hue as Jonathan looked at me nervously.

"That wasn't exactly the reaction I was expecting," he said with a quizzical expression on his face.

Laughing now, I replied, "No, no, they really are beautiful. I love them. It's just that the last gift I got from a guy was a John Deere hat which just so happened to match the shirt he had on for our date. This is just slightly different than what I'm used to, but in a very good way. Thank you," I said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

After quickly introducing him to Elyse from the hallway, I grabbed the arm he offered me as we walked out to his car.

As Jonathan held open my door (whoo hoo, an actual gentleman!) I joked, "I hope your car doesn't hold a grudge against me."

"I guess we'll know if the roof pops open and the ejector seat launches you out of here," he replied with a chuckle.

Once we had arrived at the restaurant, Jonathan politely pulled out my chair for me and, as we were looking over the wine menu, he asked with a grin, "So, now that I've seen you drive under the influence of coffee, I should probably ask if it's safe to provide you with alcohol."

"Since I'm not driving, the worst case scenario is that you get to carry me to my door later. But, I'm not the one that just graduated. I should be asking you if you're legal to drink yet. I don't want to get charged with corrupting a minor," I retorted, winking back at him.

"Who says that I'm going to give you a chance to corrupt me?" he replied, feigning innocence. "Besides, I'm 27, so I'm really not that young. I'll try not to stray into any inappropriate first date questions, but does that put me inside an appropriate age range for you?"

As it so happened, I did have a rule about dating anyone younger than myself. Particularly now that I was staring 30 in the face, I couldn't bear to hear from yet another guy that he still lived at home. However, I got the sense that that wouldn't be an issue in this case, and besides, rules were made to be broken, right?

"Well..." I replied, choosing my words carefully so that I wouldn't scare him off. "While I typically do prefer an older vintage, quality bottles are in short supply so I think that I'm willing to broaden my horizons and sample something that perhaps hasn't been aged quite as long as what I'm used to. Provided it's of a high quality and sufficiently sweet of course."

"Wine's such a subjective thing. I should probably let you draw your own conclusions about what appeals to your palate after you've had a chance to sample this vintage. I personally appreciate a full bodied, finely aged vintage that leaves you wanting more and which has a lot of legs," he replied, playing along with me.

"You've sampled older vintages before then?" I asked, more than a bit curious now. I was hoping that I wasn't just some fantasy on his bucket list that he was hoping to cross off.

"Almost exclusively," he responded, catching me off guard a bit. "I find more mature wines tend to be satisfying across a broader range of senses if you can appreciate the intricacies."

Hmm, clever and he was saying all the right things.

Twenty questions would be so much more interesting if only there was a way to know if the other person was actually telling the truth.

Too bad it isn't socially acceptable to strap a guy in for a lie detector test on a first date. If anyone ever comes up with a portable version that you can hide in your purse, I'm going to be first in line.

"So, was it against law firm policy not to sue the pants off me?" I asked, still curious how I managed to escape my predicament completely unscathed.

"Well, as I've yet to see you in pants, suing your pants off seemed like an unnecessary step. Kudos on your ensemble for tonight by the way," he replied, grinning at me.

"I know that my firm's got a bit of a rep for being sharks when it comes to litigation, but I work exclusively on the corporate side. I primarily do environmental regulatory work, so personal injury litigation isn't really my thing. Besides, I refuse to take my job home with me and, since I'm sort of starting to take a personal interest in you, suing you would have been a clear violation of that policy," he continued, his eyes firmly locked on mine.

After years of suffering through conversations where my dates' eyes were inexorably pulled down to my breasts as if their necks were too weak to keep their heads upright, it was almost a bit unnerving to sit across from someone that seemed perfectly happy to focus his attention north of there.

I had yet to see him drop his gaze to take so much as a peak and I was starting to wonder if there was something on my face.

That being said, it was absolutely intoxicating to be around someone with whom I truly enjoyed bantering with. It had been far too long since I had sat across from a man and not pondered every little flaw that I noticed or wondered at what point good was good enough.

Better still, the more we talked, the more enthralled I was becoming. I also couldn't help but notice that we had each brought our seats a bit closer to the table and that I wasn't the only one leaning forward to get a bit closer.

Just then, as I absentmindedly reached for my glass to calm my nerves a tad, I accidentally grazed the specials menu with my hand, sending it on an agonizing, slow motion descent right into the candle at the edge of our table.

With a whoosh, the paper caught fire in an instant. Thankfully, with a synchronized splash from each of our water glasses, it was out as quickly as it had started.

"I didn't even have time to say 'Opa!'" Jonathan noted, doing his best to brush off the incident as I slouched down in my seat, suddenly feeling about as warm as the fire I'd just started.

"I cannot believe that just happened," I replied, my words coming out in a tiny, slightly pouty, squeak.

"It's okay," Jonathan said, reaching out to give my hand a squeeze. "I wasn't really feeling any of those specials either," grinning at me as I burst out laughing.

"At least now you know that I'm skilled in the art of flambé," I retorted, both of us laughing so hard by that point that we were verging on tears.

I suppose the upside to almost torching one of Vancouver's finest eateries is you get to see how someone reacts under stress.

So far, so good...
A kiss makes the heart young again and wipes out the years – Rupert Brooke

14. Having survived the rest of the meal without any further near death experiences, I was riding a natural high by the time we left the restaurant.

It had been such a long time since my cheeks had hurt from laughing with someone so much and I wasn't ready for our night to end just yet.

"So, if you're up for a drive, there's someplace that I would love to take you," Jonathan mention, as we got back into his recently repaired car.

"Do I get to ask where or is it a surprise?" I inquired, perfunctorily.

At that moment, I didn't particularly care what the intended destination was as long as Jonathan was going to be there too. However, I didn't want to sound too enthusiastic in case he got the wrong/accurate impression.

"Nope, you're just going to have to trust me on this. I figure that, since I was able to stay quiet after having my heart in my mouth every time you reached for your wine glass tonight, I've earned a little reciprocity," he replied as he gently squeezed my thigh.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, swatting him on the arm. "It was totally uneventful 9 times out of 10. You can't expect perfection on a first date!" I said, grinning at him.

"Hmm, okay, I think you've earned a little trust. Let's see what you have in mind," I countered, as we pulled away.

Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the top of Burnaby Mountain, looking down on the city and the ocean on a rare, surprisingly clear, night.

"I've never been up here before. What a gorgeous view!" I exclaimed, as I gazed out at the twinkling lights of the city set out on display in front of me.

"I couldn't agree more," Jonathan said, playfully giving me a light tap on the bum while he stood behind me before he wrapped his arms around me, the smell of his cologne and the feel of his arms around me giving me goose bumps.

"Hey, no checking out the goods. I want to make sure your intentions are honourable, Mister," I replied teasingly, as I nestled myself deeper in his arms.

"So, what do you think? Was it worth having a little faith in me?" he asked, his voice lips vibrating softly against my ear.

I had to admit, this was certainly a step up from target shooting with the John Deere man-child, and we had yet to chat about the intricacies of crushing rocks, so he had cleared the rather low bar that I had set for the night with room to spare.

If he kept this up, I might have to readjust my expectations in the not too distant future.

"This whole night has all been a pretty steep price to pay for such a little dent in your bumper," I replied impertinently, "but, despite having to put up with you, it is a pretty nice view," I continued as I put my hand over his and turned to look him in the eye.

"Well, perhaps you'll give me a chance to make amends for the imposition in the future," he responded quietly, as he leaned in and kissed me softly, drawing me in to him.

With our heads still inches apart and an ear to ear smile crossing my face, I leaned in and whispered to him, "Anything's possible I guess. I mean, at least this beats a night at home doing laundry," I replied, kissing him on the cheek and letting my lips linger for a second.

He stood there, grinning back at me for a second, before responding, "You know, I knew you were trouble from the first moment I spotted you hurtling towards me in my rear-view mirror. But maybe I need a bit more trouble in my life."

Wow, there is nothing better than smiling at someone from the inside out. I had almost forgotten what that feels like. My cheeks were going to hurt tomorrow but this has got to be the best sort of pain in the world.

As we stood there with our eyes locked on each other, Jonathan took me in his arms and, as he swayed gently with me, he started to sing a nameless tune to me, his voice deep, yet soft:

"You took me by surprise,

And at first it seemed unwise,

But from the first time that I stared into your eyes,

I knew that I was never going to want to say good bye,

And though I've been taught to sue,

I just can't seem to get enough of you."

Laughing out loud at the last couple of lines, I pulled him in to me and shut his lips with mine before he could come up with another verse.

Later that night, after Jonathan had dropped me off and we had parted ways for the evening, I headed up the elevator in a state of blissful contentment. put my hands in my pockets to warm them up.

Still chilled from the night air, I stuck my hands in my pockets to warm them. Feeling a slight poke, I fished around and pulled out a folded note:

"I was pretty sure I was going to have a great time tonight so I thought I should thank you for a wonderful night and for letting me enjoy your company again. Bonne nuit, ma belle. Jonathan"

Hmm, this sort of treatment might take a little getting used to, but that's probably not a bad thing...
Whenever I feel the need to exercise, I lie down until it goes away – Robert Maynard Hutchins

15. Early the next morning, I was thoroughly enjoying my first erotic dream to ever include legal counsel as a co-star when I was harshly awakened by the grating vibrations of my phone rattling around on my nightstand.

Why is it that every time I forget to switch that frickin' thing to silent, someone decides that it's a good idea to call at 8 am on a Saturday?

Without even needing to glance at my caller ID, I reached over and groggily moaned into the phone, "Hey mum, how're you today? You know that it is 8 am on a Saturday morning, right?"

My mum is a lovely, well-intentioned, retiree who likes to keep close tabs on the goings-on in my life. A slightly problematic habit which had only escalated in both intensity and frequency since my older brother, Rob, had fled to Dubai with his wife, Haley, a couple of years ago.

Rob, a petroleum engineer, had claimed that the move that the money was too good to pass up. Given the lifestyle that he was living over there, there was probably some truth to that.

However, I had a sneaking suspicion that the chance to relocate to a time zone 11 hours ahead of the rest of the family might have added to the allure of the destination.

Should Haley ever become pregnant, I've considered getting my revenge by subtly suggesting to my mum that she and my dad should take a sabbatical for a year and go over there to help them out.

"Good morning sunshine. It's such a beautiful day out here. I thought that you would want to be up and out doing something?"

I love my mum but she and my dad are rarely awake past 10:00 p.m. and she was up faithfully every morning at 6 a.m. to walk their dog, Elvis.

The concept of a late night followed by the exquisite bliss that comes from sleeping in the next morning appeared to be one that was completely foreign to her.

"No mum, I was out last night so I was just catching up on some sleep. I don't have any plans for today that can't wait for a few more hours," I replied, doing my best to stay conscious and to sound at least mildly coherent.

"Oh, were you doing anything fun last night?" my mum queried, innocently.

My mum and dad had been together for 35 years and, even though I know she has a secret stash of harlequin novels squirrelled away, I had always felt compelled to avoid sharing any of the more vibrant details of my nocturnal activities with her. One question would inevitably lead to another and I'm pretty sure that dating was a bit different for my parents back in the 70's. Also, while I'm close to my mum, there are some things I would rather leave to her imagination.

However, in this case I was happy to make an exception to my rule.

"Well, you know how I told you I was in a bit of a fender bender earlier this week when we had that huge dump of snow? The guy I ran into ended up being really nice about the whole situation. He offered to pay for his repairs himself so I didn't have to chat with ICBC again and he ended up taking me out for dinner last night."

"Wow, you're a lucky girl. He sounds like quite a catch. Did the two of you hit it off?" my mum inquired, inquisitively.

Interesting question, as it certainly had felt like we had.

While dating conventions might suggest that I wouldn't hear from Jonathan for a few days, he hadn't exactly been a slave to protocol thus far and I was mildly disappointed that there hadn't been a text or anything waiting on my phone this morning.

"Dinner was really nice," I responded, noncommittally. "The only issue is that he's a few years younger than me."

"Take it from me Anna, a little youthful exuberance is not necessarily a bad thing. Get them too old and it's too much work to train them. Just make sure that he's not so young that you're constantly having to swat him away," my mum replied, chuckling.

"Mum!" I retorted, groaning into the phone. "It's a bit early in the morning for the visual. What are you up to today?" I asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

"Since everyone keeps telling me that yoga is an excellent way to stay in shape, I was thinking about trying a class at the rec centre this afternoon. I can walk down the hill on the way there but your dad is playing golf and my car is in the shop so I'm not sure how I would get home?"

My mum is in relatively good health for someone her age but she's been trying to drop 10 pounds for about as long as I can remember. She's never found a fad diet that she wasn't ready to whole heartedly embrace for a day or two, but unfortunately, cutting back on the chocolate that she hides in her nightstand and getting regular exercise have never really entered the picture as options for her.

"Couldn't you just walk back afterwards?" I replied, stating the obvious and already dreading her response.

"Anna, it's straight up-hill!" my mum moaned plaintively. "It would be so much work!"

Trying desperately not to laugh out loud over the phone, I gently replied "Well, yoga is supposed to give you energy. Maybe the walk won't be so bad?"

The rec centre is barely three blocks from my parents' house but I've learnt from experience that pointing out this sort of thing to her was never looked upon favourably.

"I didn't know that trying to be a bit healthier was going to require so much effort!" she exclaimed, clearly too bothered by the thought of having to trek back up the hill to notice the irony in her comment.

"I'll let you know how things go. Have a great day dear."

"Ok mum. You too; I hope you have fun." I replied, needing to get off the line as tears had started to run down my cheeks and I was already shaking with barely contained laughter.

Always nice when your parents can put a smile on your face to start the day.
My grandmother started walking five miles a day when she was sixty. She's ninety-seven now and we don't know where the hell she is – Ellen DeGeneres

16. Later that day, after having gone back to sleep for several more blissful hours, I reluctantly rejoined the land of the living.

I had previously promised Elyse that I would join her and some of her friends for a girls' nigh at a new club that had just opened a few weeks earlier, and I was pretty sure that I was going to need those couple extra hours of sleep.

When I finally ventured forth from my room, it quickly became obvious that Sam had dropped by at some point last night with flowers.

I unsuccessfully attempted to pry details out of Elyse but, judging by the pile of white petals I'd found by the door, it looked like the gesture had only exacerbated Elyse's foul mood.

I couldn't help thinking that Sam was lucky that he had brought something that wasn't going to hurt when it had inevitably been chucked back at him.

Although I hadn't gotten any details on what exactly had been said, I had a feeling that it wouldn't take too many drinks tonight before it all came out, so I reigned in my curiosity for the time being.

Elyse departed from the condo to get her nails done and I decided to relax in the friendly confines of my bed a bit longer, knowing it would likely be a late night.

No sooner did my head hit the pillow when my phone went off yet again.

"Hey pumpkin, how're you?" my dad's voice roaring through my phone, sounding almost obnoxiously chipper.

"Hey dad, I'm great, I'm just getting ready for a girls' night out with Elyse and some of our friends. Did mum manage to get home okay after yoga?" I replied, wondering if my mum had either dislocated something during her class or attempted to hitch a ride back up the hill and disappeared.

"Well, funny you should ask. She made it home just fine, but there was a little incident during the class," my dad replied, cautiously.

"Oh no! Do I even want to ask what she did?" I replied, relieved that she had at least made it home in one piece.

"Well, apparently the class she took was for restorative yoga, which I understand is supposed to promote relaxation. I guess your mum took that to heart because I was told by Mrs. Bradshaw that she fell asleep about half way through the class and starting snoring like a buzzsaw which, I suspect, was most likely disrupting the ability of everyone else in the class to achieve a more relaxed state," my dad said, tongue firmly in cheek.

"Oh no! She must have been mortified!" I exclaimed, pitying everyone who had gotten a dose of what my brother and I had been exposed to all too regularly on our family vacations while growing up.

"She was a bit sheepish about the whole incident when she got home, but on the bright side, she decided to give the hill a try on the way home. I didn't have the heart to ask her if it was because her class had been so relaxing," my dad replied, chuckling.

"Anyway, I know she's a bit embarrassed about what happened, and you know as well as anyone that she's never been the best about sticking with these sorts of activities, so I wanted to give you a heads-up so that you can maybe give her a bit of encouragement the next time you talk to her," he continued.

"Of course, dad," I replied, "it would be so god for her if she kept going and got a bit more active. I appreciate the heads-up though. I'm not sure I could have heard that story from her and not cracked up on the phone."

"Your mum is something else sometimes, no question about it, but I wouldn't change a thing about her," my dad replied.

And that statement right there, in addition to being one of the best things about my parents, was what kept me dating through the good, the bad, and the balding.

My parents were two of the quirkiest people I know but, at the end of the day, I knew that they would each do anything for the other.

It was nice knowing that that sort of relationship was out there, even if my search so far had taken more effort than snagging a Tory Burch bag at a Boxing Day sale, and had caused me more misery than Ben and Jerry could have possibly contemplated when they came up with Chocolate Therapy.

Speaking of which, am I the only one that thinks that that name is just a bit too on-the-nose for an ice cream flavour? Then again, it was probably more upbeat than the thought of taking a spoonful of Saccharine Psychoanalysis.

"But I should let you go pumpkin. I promised your mum that I would take her out for Indian food after her ordeal today and it sounds like she's ready to go. Hope you have a great night and chat soon."

"Okay dad, you too, have fun," I replied.

As I hung up, I spotted a new text from Elyse. "Nails are done. Need to find a man to carve up. Get moving!"

Well, duty calls. Let the night begin!
The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there – L.P. Hartley

17. I eventually arrived at the club around 10 p.m. to find myself at the end of a line that was encircling the block. As I cursed Elyse and reminded myself that I was far too old to being freezing my butt off in a line, I miraculously spotted a familiar figure near the door. Tony, the mammoth hulk of a man currently playing the role of God to everyone seeking entrance, had previously taken an interest in my well-being when Elyse had introduced us at a previous establishment years ago.

After attempting and failing to discreetly make my presence known, I quickly decided that whatever I abuse I might incur from the rest of the people stuck in line was worth it to avoid losing feeling in my extremities.

Shouting out, "Hey Tony, can you help a girl out? I was gratified to see a smile cross his face as he spotted me and waved me forward. Choosing to ignore the admittedly understandable chorus of boos and other unpleasantries, I gave Tony a quick peck on the cheek as the velvet rope disappeared from my path.

It was always nice to see a familiar face, particularly when said face also had the power to magically part a frozen sea of humanity.

After I had made my way inside, I did a quick loop around the club. Elyse may be tiny but she invariably found a way to stick out in any crowd.

As expected, she had already drawn an audience. I spotted her along with a couple of our friends, Sonya and May Ann, surrounded by a pack of well-built guys; their table already littered with empty shot glasses.

Elyse is a pixie and Sonya and May Ann, of Filipino and Thai heritage respectively, were no bigger.

Surrounded by a wall of well-muscled men, they could almost have been mistaken for a stunning collection of porcelain dolls on display under the lights.

"Anna!" Elyse shrieked upon seeing me approaching her entourage.

"Get your ass over here, sexy. These guys are all visiting from Australia. They're on a rugby tour or something. Did you know that each position has its own name? This guy was telling me that he's the hooker," she said, grinning at the stocky fella sitting next to her as she playfully tousled his hair, "but he's already promised not to charge me for anything that happens tonight. Such a gentleman, isn't he?"

"He sounds like quite a bloke," I replied, playing along as I attempted to gracefully wiggle my way through the scrum which, by curious coincidence, seemed to only leave enough room for me to squeeze through by brushing up against a number of them.

"Spoken like a true Aussie," the blond tree trunk in front of me noted, greeting me with a warm smile. "I'm Andrew," he continued, reaching out his hand cordially.

"Anna," I said, offering up my hand in return. "So tell me Andrew, are you a hooker as well?" I queried, spiritedly.

"No, there's only one of those per team. Actually, my mate here and I are both locks," he replied, clasping his equally well chiselled neighbour on the shoulder.

While I couldn't help but appreciate Andrew's wavy tresses and boy next door good looks, a quick glance at his buddy sent my attention right back to where I had started. Call me superficial if you want, but cauliflowered ears and a broken nose sent a whole different short of shiver running down my spine.

"Well, that's a bit presumptions of you don't you think? Neither of you have even offered to go fetch me a drink and you're already assuming that you're locks?" I retorted, putting on a playful pout.

"Besides, I've also been more partial to one on one games," I continued as I coyly winked at my new friend.

Andrew looked startled and began to blush a deep red as he finally caught on to my double entendre and stammered, "Oh, no, no, that's not what I meant at all! That's just the name of our position," he replied, stumbling over his words. "Maybe I should go grab us a few drinks, yeah?"

"That sounds like a delightful idea. I don't know about you but I'm feeling like a dirty girl scout." I respond with a straight face, not wanting to let him off the hook just yet.

Andrew's jaw dropped and he stared incredulously at me for a moment. I could practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he attempted to come up with a suitable retort, but he must have determined that discretion was the better part of valour as he acquiesced with a grin and a nod before heading off to fetch our drinks.

I turned back to the rest of the table just as Elyse was just getting up, saying "Excuse me boys, but nature calls. Don't let my glass still be empty when I get back, yeah?" clinking the cubes in her empty glass for emphasis.

Not wanting to miss my opportunity to find out what had gone on with Sam the night before, I immediately departed to join her for a little girl talk.

"Hey stranger, it looks like you're having a good night so far," I mentioned, catching up to her as she entered the ladies room.

"With a whole team to choose from, it's hard to complain. Plus, this is just what I needed after all the BS last night," she replied quietly, averting my gaze and raising my suspicions as to what had happened the night before with Sam.

"So what exactly happened last night? I saw the flowers by the door when I came in last night," I continued, doing my best not to push too hard.

"Well, he texted me yesterday afternoon and asked if he could drop by to talk. I was hoping that he had thought about things and that he would understand that I want things to go back to the way they were and that I'm just not ready for anything serious," she replied, momentarily going silent as she composed herself.

Taking a deep breath, Elyse continued, "But instead, he brought those flowers and he told me that he was okay with me doing whatever I wanted to do and he wasn't try to tie me down, but he said that he isn't going be with anyone else. I was so pissed at him because he was giving me exactly what I asked for really, but hearing him say it made me feel like such a tramp!" she concluded, sighing indignantly, her gaze still avoiding mine.

When she finally looked up at me, I fully expected to see her eyes blazing with anger, but what I saw in her eyes looked more like fear. Blinking back tears, she quickly turned away.

Sam was the only guy that I had ever seen Elyse with that seemed to make her genuinely happy and I couldn't help wondering to myself whether she was more scared of getting hurt and losing someone that actually mattered to her than she was of being tied down in a relationship with just one person.

"So, how did you guys leave things?" I inquired as gingerly as possible.

"I kinda lost it on him and I told him that he wasn't getting it. I'm sure he was getting pissed at me and he said he didn't know what else I wanted from him. Then he said that maybe I should figure it out and get back to him. As he was leaving, I lost it and tossed the flowers at him," she concluded before looking away and staring off into space.

I weighed the question of whether or not I should respond for a moment before softly saying, "You know, the one thing I really want to find in a guy is the belief that I'm adored just for who I am, no matter what. I've found that it's pretty hard to try to change how someone looks at you or treats you. Sam seems to truly love you just the way you are..." I left my thought hanging, letting my voice trail off.

Elyse turned towards me again, looking a bit more composed as she continued, "Look, I know he was saying all the right things, but I'm not sure what I want to say to him just yet and I definitely know that I don't want to think about it anymore tonight. So let's just enjoy tonight, okay? Your Aussie looks pretty studly. How's that shaping up?" she inquired, the look in her eyes begging me to go along with the none-too-subtle change in the subject.

Being a good friend, I took the hint, saying "I just shamed him into going to get us some drinks and he took it like a champ, so I can't complain. I don't know that I'm really looking in the market right now though. It felt pretty natural spending time with Jonathan last night and I don't just want a fling with someone passing through," I replied, feeling a brief pang of irritation that I hadn't heard a peep from Jonathan all day.

"But it's not like you two are exclusive yet, right? Elyse responded, trying to bait me into a reply without success.

"Well, I think you're probably still free to play around if you decide you want to, but I'm glad you had fun last night. What did you two do after dinner? I think I must have passed out before you got home," Elyse continued as she inspected herself in the mirror.

After shoving her cleavage skyward, she went through an arsenal of poses, all which were apparently deemed to be unsatisfactory because, after gazing at herself one last time in the mirror, she sighed and popped another button on her top.

Doing my best not to laugh as I took in the spectacle, I replied, "He took me up to the lookout point on top of Burnaby Mountain. It was a perfect night to go up there. You could see the whole city and he was pretty good company. Decent kisser too," I added nonchalantly, feeling a bit tingly from the memory.

"Nice!" Elyse exclaimed giddily, "I'm happy to hear that this guy's not a total stiff like the last one. Alright, time to get back out there. My guy keeps bragging about how the balls are bigger in his sport and I want to find out if he's right!"
There is nothing more Australian than spending time in somebody else's country - anonymous

18. By the time we had made our way back to the table, to the shock of absolutely no one, both of our newfound friends had drinks ready and waiting for us.

Andrew, with a glass looking quite similar to my own, raised his towards me, saying with a straight face, "As it turns out, I'm was in the mood to taste a dirty girl scout as well. Cheers."

"Isn't that naughty of you? And here I thought Aussies only drank Fosters? Cheers," I replied as I took a sip of my drink.

"Crikey Moses, no! Only when we're throwing a couple'a of shrimps on the barbie or chasing off the dingos, dontcha know?" he retorted with a wry smile.

Well, what do you know? Not only does he look like he's ready for his Baywatch casting call but apparently he can keep up his end of a conversation too.

"Alright, fair enough, I'll try to keep the stereotypes to a minimum," I responded with a laugh, appreciating the creative banter.

"So, what do you think of Canada so far?" I asked, curious to hear a bit more from him now I knew he wasn't just a pretty face (with a decent set of pecs and arms to go along with it).

"Actually, this is our first stop in Canada. We started off the trip in California and then we came up the coast. It's a beautiful city that you've got here, even if it does feels like someone forgot to turn on the heat," he said, keeping his eyes locked on mine.

That's odd; it was certainly starting to feel a bit warmer in here the way that he was looking at me.

"Don't tell me that a big fella like yourself finds this chilly? Vancouver has the mildest weather that Canada has to offer. You might not survive the rest of your trip if you think this is too cold for you," I retorted, playfully.

"Maybe I just need to do something to get my body temperature up a bit before I venture out into the cold," he replied, gently covering my hand with his.

Yup, the temperature was definitely starting to rise a bit. Humidity levels as well.

"Well, didn't I hear that one of your teammates is called the hooker? Wouldn't those sorts of warm-up activities be a part of his duties?" I inquired, saucily, as I nodded in the direction of Elyse's companion.

Andrew followed my gaze towards the other end of the table where Elyse and the other girls had clearly captivated the rest of the team's attention with a line of body shots.

"See, it looks like he's already doing all that he can to keep Elyse warm tonight," I continued, my voice dripping with sarcasm as we watched him vigorously thrust his face between Elyse's breasts.

"Lachlan's not the most discriminating bloke I've ever met. Give him enough sauce and he's up for pretty much anything, I reckon," Andrew replied with a deadpan expression as he took in the spectacle.

"But, given a choice, I think I might prefer someone that isn't as hairy as an unshorn sheep and doesn't reek of Axe body spray when I'm doing a bit of cuddling. Just a personal preference and all, you understand," he continued, grinning at me now, laying his accent on thick.

"Funny you mention that. I had heard that you boys were fond of sheep. I don't have one handy, but our cat is almost the same size and very friendly to boot," I countered, doing my best to keep a straight face and to prevent myself from showing any signs of interest in his proposition.

Both tasks were becoming exceedingly more difficult the longer we talked.

"That's a very sweet offer, truly, but sadly I'm allergic to fur. It's awful, but all of these limitations really restrict me to women in this sort of situation. If only I could find myself a noble spirit that might be willing to aide me in my hour of need before I go forth shivering into the Canadian winter..." he replied, leaving the obvious invitation hanging.

As I was thinking of a witty response, and perhaps giving just the slightest amount of consideration to Andrew's offer, I felt my phone vibrating in my purse next to me. A bit startled by the unexpected sensation, I inhaled sharply.

Thinking that I was about to reply, Andrew interjected, saying, "Hold on to whatever you were going to say for just one minute," as he stood up.

"That dirty girl scout did a number on me, but I'll be right back to hear the verdict. Don't let anyone steal you away while I'm gone, yeah?"

Phew! Damn good thing for that drink because I wasn't entirely sure what was going to come out of my mouth if he had sat there grinning at me for another few seconds.

However, given a brief reprieve from having to make any sort of decision, I knew exactly whose name I wanted to see when I grabbed my phone out of my purse.

As I glanced down, I was a bit startled by the level of excitement I felt when I saw that my wish had been granted.

Jonathan had indeed been the one responsible for sending those good vibrations my way and I found the following text waiting for me:

I know I'm probably breaking all sorts of unwritten rules of etiquette by texting you so late, but you gave me shivers last night and I wanted to see if you're up for giving me a chance to return the favour (even if it's less conventional). How do you feel about going skating with me in Robson Square sometime? Potential answers:

(a) you had your shot last night and the only shivers I felt didn't resemble the type that you're talking about;

(b) I grew up figure skating and I'll go but I'm disowning you every time you end up sliding down the ice on your butt; or

(c) The only ice I want to see is in my drink, but I'll let you buy me one.

Trying not to laugh, I quickly wrote back:

Fair warning, I can't skate to save my life, so I'm counting on you to hold me up. If we fall, I'm landing on you! I might let you buy me a drink after to warm up afterwards if we're still both in one piece.

Glancing up, I spotted Andrew striding quickly back to the table so I abruptly chucked my phone back in my purse and I turned my mind back to my present state of affairs.

While I've generally been pretty good (although admittedly not perfect) at avoiding early morning walks of shame, I'll admit, Andrew's smile and charm had been having a bit of an effect on me.

I was grateful that Jonathan had texted me when he did as it had certainly made my forthcoming decision a bit easier.

"Did you miss me?" Andrew inquired with a hopeful gaze as he slid back into his chair.

Perhaps not as much as you would have liked given the events that had transpired in the last couple of minutes, but you sure are easy on the eyes.

If he wasn't just passing through, I would have been on the horns of a major dilemma. But, seeing as how this show would have to be a very limited time engagement, will-power was going to have to win out tonight.

Steeling myself, I replied, "I'll be honest, you're not awful company. However, I gave this some thought while you were gone and, even though I'm very tempted, I think I'm going to have to decline your offer. It's not that I don't think it would be fun (and the more I look at you, the more I'm pretty sure it would be), but I'm really looking for more than just a one nighter. I hope you understand?"

"Of course, I understand, yeah," he replied, a bit of hurt showing in his eyes. "It would have been a mad night but I probably have woken up wanting to see more of you anyway so I guess it's for the best that we don't let things go there," he replied, keeping his eyes locked on mine.

"Okay, thanks for understanding. I'm sure you won't have any problems finding some lucky lady to warm you up before you go," I replied, leaning out and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"Fair play, but before I go, could I get your digits? You never know what could happen down the road?"

Truer words were never spoken. I suppose there was no harm in that, right?
There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it – Oscar Wilde

19. The next morning, I woke up alone, in my own bed, and without a discernable hangover; thus fulfilling all of the aspirations that I had had for the previous night.

Regardless of the degree of difficulty one may or may not ascribe to them, I suppose that it's healthy to have goals in life, right?

Speaking of goals, it was immediately obvious to me as I headed to the kitchen in search of some yogurt that Elyse had accomplished her objective for the night as well, as I spotted a pair of scruffy Timberland boots scattered near the door.

While both of our shoe collections were vast, I was reasonably certain that those boots were a part of neither.

Then, out of nowhere, I heard a tiny, hollow voice say, "I think I may have made a big mistake."

Startled, I spun around in the direction of the living room, yogurt flying in all directions.

When I turned around, I found Elyse tucked into a corner of the couch in the fetal position, starring off into space.

"Elyse, you scared the bejeezus out of me! Are you okay? You look awful," I replied, as I noted the dark circles under her eyes and tufts of hair sticking out in all directions like one of those ubiquitous troll dolls from the 90's.

"I couldn't sleep. I brought that little guy home at the end of the night and everything was going fine but I just couldn't get into it. Then, after, we were lying there and I started missing Sam like crazy. I couldn't stop thinking about him and I was freaking out that I might have lost him. Buddy passed out right away and I came out here to think. I haven't slept at all. You know, it's not like I want to actually spend time with anyone but him, but what if we start to just see each other and it doesn't work out for some reason? I don't know if I could take that. He's the only guy that's ever really mattered to me and he's the only person other than you that's always been there for me."

Elyse was shaking like a leaf and tears were streaming down her face as I gave her a hug and brushed the hair out of her face.

Once she had calmed down a bit, I said gently, "You know that there are never going to be any guarantees, and you're right, you could get hurt. But, you already know that Sam only wants to be with you so, if you are going to take a chance on someone, at least you know where he stands, right?"

I tried to keep any hints of jealousy out of my voice as I spoke.

Sadly, this was not the sort of dilemma that I had a lot of personal experience with.

On the rare occasion when someone had engendered some real interest from me, there had never been more than a few vague conversations and non-committal grunts when it came to discussions of a meaningful future and things were still way too new with Jonathan to get my hopes up just yet.

However, I was 99.99% sure that if I ever found myself in Elyse's 'predicament', my own tears would be slightly more joyful than the ones still silently streaming down her cheeks.

"Look at it this way," I continued, "you're happy when you're with him, right?"

Elyse silently bobbed her chin in response.

"Okay, and you've met more than your fair share of guys and had you've had plenty of interesting experiences. Are you at all worried that amongst all the toads out there and in here," nodding towards the bedroom and her acquaintance from the night before, "that there's going to be a prince who is going to make you happier than Sam?"

Letting out a short giggle, Elyse shook her head and said, "No, I know what's out there and Sam's the only guy I've been with who makes me feel truly happy. That's what scares me," she responded hesitantly, before gazing up at me, the fear clearly evident on her face.

"Look, lets say that for some unexpected reason, things don't work out between you. I'm sure you would be mainlining Ben and Jerry's for a while and your Dad's VISA would be begging for mercy before you felt human again, but he's already said that he only wants to be with you. Plus, if you don't give it a chance, you might lose him anyway and every time you wake up next to someone else, you're going to be comparing him to Sam," I replied, silently praying that I would be able to console Elyse and be out the door before her conquest from the night before awoke from his rather noisy slumber and brought my point to life.

As if on cue, Elyse's fury companion chose that exact moment to emerge from her bedroom, yawning deeply while he vigorously scratched his outrageously hairy chest.

From the neck down, he appeared to be more Sasquatch than modern man.

As he strolled past us, naked as the day he was born, I whispered to Elyse, "Yeah, it would keep you warm in the winter, but I bet the groomer would charge you a fortune to keep his coat nice and shiny."
It's a strange world of language in which skating on thin ice can get you into hot water – Franklin P. Jones

20. Later that day, I found myself on the horns of a dilemma. Having begrudgingly acquiesced to Jonathan's cute, yet mildly terrifying, request to go skating, the countdown was now into its final hours.

I hadn't been on skates since middle school and my only survival plan at that time had been to latch onto my hockey playing high school crush for a tow around the rink. It seemed unlikely that the intervening decade and a half was going to have done much to organically improve my skills.

As I rummaged through my closet, it immediately became apparent to me that nothing I owned was going to provide the sort of cushioning required for my inevitable close encounters with the ice whilst still imbuing me with the sort of 'I'm sexy even sliding across the ice on my butt' look that I was desperately hoping to exude.

Praying that Jonathan was either going to be able to keep me upright or at least be enough of a gentleman to let me land on him, I eventually headed out the door in my favourite Silver's, a mid-thigh length wool coat, a cute scarf I'd picked up on Boxing Day and my Olympic mittens.

Feeling somewhat winterized, I arrived virtually on time and, spotting Jonathan by the rental booth, I quickly scooted over, ready to snuggle into his warm embrace.

As I was a bit distracted while en route, I took absolutely no notice of a wayward patch of ice in my path, thus enabling me to complete a spectacular pirouette, arms flailing wildly, before sliding right into Jonathan's waiting arms.

"Phew, nice catch!" I noted breathlessly as I righted myself and gave him a kiss. "That was just a test to make sure that you've got the necessary skills to for us to head out there," I continued, motioning towards the rink as I laughed at my own clumsiness.

"I can safely say that holding on to you is not going to be a problem but, since I can't skate to save my life, how we end up stopping is going to be another story," Jonathan replied with a grin. "By the way, you look cute all bundled up like that."

Bundled up!? This was supposed to be my dressed to impress skating outfit!

Would it have killed him to mention how brave it was of me not to borrow some padded hockey shorts for this little adventure?

"Well, that's just what I was aiming for," I replied, doing my best to keep any bitterness out of my tone as I pushed him towards the rental booth before he unknowingly lodged his foot in his mouth again.

Once we had gotten ourselves laced up, we stumbled towards the ice, arm in arm. Stopping at the edge of the rink, I let Jonathan step out onto the ice first, giggling as he flailed his arms wildly while he attempted to regain his balance.

Once he had managed to come to a complete stop, he gallantly held out his arms, giving me an inviting target to aim for.

As I stepped out onto the ice, I immediately teetered backwards. Jonathan reached out to steady me, but I lurched forward into him, sending us both crashing to the ice in a heap.

As I lay there in his arms, trying to recover my senses, he remarked with a wince, "Well, I wasn't lying about catching you, but we should have put a bit more thought into who was going to catch me."

As I lifted my head to retort, he gently brushed the hair out of my face and kissed me softly, saying "You know, I think that this has been the hardest that I've ever fallen for someone."

As Jonathan gingerly rubbed the back of his head, I took one look at the pained expression on his face and I burst out laughing, tears rolling down my cheeks.

"I bet it's pretty rare that a girl can make you feel lightheaded on a second date," I replied, giggling mischievously.

Having regained our senses, we both very carefully got to our feet and slid over to the rail, holding on for dear life as we caught our breath.

Once we both had had a chance to recover, Jonathan eventually said, "Okay, we've got to give this a better effort," firmly clasping my hand in his before he led us away from the rail.

Several minutes later, we had managed to successfully navigate the rink a couple of times without ending up back on the ice.

However, our obvious lack of skills had led to some incessant mockery from a pre-school aged band of miscreants who were skating backwards in front of us, sticking their tongues out and snickering to each other every time Jonathan or I teetered awkwardly.

Sadly, we were giving them plenty of material to work with.

Who would have thought that a pair of Canadians could be so awkward on skates?

As we slid back to the rail near the door to the rink, Jonathan said, "I think we've earned a hot chocolate, what do you think?"

"Hmm, yeah, I don't think we have anything left to prove to anyone out there. Let's do it," I huffed as I struggled to regain both my breath and my dignity.

How Kate Beckinsale and John Cusack made this look so easy I'll never know, but lying in his arms hadn't felt too shabby and at least he was a man of his word, having let me land on him, as promised.
Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter – Mark Twain

21. Having shed our skates at the rink, Jonathan and I headed off in search of refreshments. We soon found a cozy looking coffee house and, spotting a couple of seats together, we collapsed exhaustedly into them.

As we sipped our hot chocolates, we snuggled up against each other (truly a well-deserved reward for our efforts on the ice), physically drained from our attempt at skating. As we sipped in contented silence, Frank Sinatra's 'The way you look tonight' began to play softly in the background.

"I think his version of 'My funny Valentine' has got to be my all-time favourite song," I remarked to Jonathan as I leaned back into him, enjoying the companionship.

"So you're into the classics, eh? I don't know if that bodes well for me," he retorted playfully as he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me closer.

"You know, I played the sax in my youth," he continued. "I used to love some of the jazz classics."

"Have you ever serenaded a date?" I inquired, optimistically.

Hope springs eternal but, to date, the closest I had ever come to being serenaded was by a very drunk admirer who had approached me at a bar one night, gotten down on one knee, and starting belting out "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'" in a horribly slurred, off key voice.

I'll give the guy credit for stepping up, but sadly for him, it didn't resonate with me quite as much as Tom Cruise's version in Top Gun.

Either way, I was ready for someone to step it up a notch.

"To be honest, I stopped playing before I hit my dating prime, but that probably would be a good skill to have kept up. It's not quite the same as having a guitar around the campfire but I did get a kiss after I did a solo for 'The Rose' at a Valentine's Day assembly," he replied, the memory bringing a grin to his face.

"Maybe it's time to dust it off and see if your lips are still in shape," I replied, batting my eyelashes coyly.

"I don't know if I need a saxophone to prove that, but I'll bear it in mind," he replied as he leaned towards me and adroitly proved his point.

"Hmm, well counsellor, you present a pretty strong case." I replied, our faces still just inches apart. "But before I render my verdict, I don't think you've ever told me how you ended up going to law school?" I inquired, curious to find out a bit more about what made him tick.

"Good question. I figured that it would be a great fall-back in case my looks fail me. Based on all the stereotypes about us, you would think that no one in their right minds would ever want to date one of us, yet all the partners I know always seem to have gorgeous ex-wives" he replied, with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Okay, I'll tell you the truth, but I've got to warn you, this probably isn't the best reason a person's ever had for making a career decision and it probably goes against everything you assume about lawyers," he continued.

"So, I was completely smitten with this girl that I was seeing in undergrad. I thought I was going to be an archaeologist or teach history at the time but, right before winter break in our sophomore year, she tells me that she's decided to go to law school. I thought about it for all of maybe five seconds or so and I somehow blurted out that was my plan as well. A few minutes later I found myself a computer, signing up for the LSAT and I never looked back," he concluded, looking at me rather sheepishly.

Turns out the boy was not lying. That most definitely was not the answer I was expecting. But, I guess it worked out okay for Reese Witherspoon and at least he wasn't commitment-shy.

"That's so romantic!" I exclaimed, thinking to myself that a story like that almost had to be true, unless he had spent an awfully long time crafting it as a pickup line.

"It seems like as good a reason as any, really," I continued. "So what happened between you and the girl?"

"You know, she was a great person, but I realized by the time we were picking law schools that she probably wasn't the one for me. She ended up going to a school out east and I got an offer from my first choice of schools out here and we just kind of went our separate ways. We kept in touch for a bit but I don't have any regrets. I'm pretty happy with my job and I seem to bump into a lot of interesting people in this line of work," he concluded lightheartedly, kissing the top of my head.

It was so unfortunate that, if this happened to work out, I was going to have to hear about that incident for the rest of my life.

Then again, I suppose life is all about making sacrifices.

Hmm, I wonder what it would take to persuade him to tell people that he slammed on his brakes first and it was really his fault as much as mine?

"That's the spirit. Admitting to being at the root of that incident is the first step towards moving past it and never mentioning it again," I replied impertinently, reaching back to mockingly slap his cheek a couple of times.

"So exactly how do you remember things happening that morning? I just realized that I never thought to ask if you were checked for a concussion. I'm a bit worried that you might be having some short term memory issues," Jonathan replied, with a playful grin.

"Well, I assumed that you slammed on your brakes after glancing in your rear view mirror and being so dazzled by the sight of me that you were rendered incapable of scooting on through that yellow light," I retorted, glancing up at him and doing my best to look utterly adorable.

"Maybe the snow flakes or the massive cup of coffee that you were holding up in front of you blocked out my view at the time, so I'm not sure that your argument holds water. However, I would be willing to stipulate that a certain amount of dazzling has occurred since then," he replied, as he leaned in and proceeded to return the favour in a most thoughtful fashion.
There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face – Bernard Williams

22. The next day was a painful plunge back into the dreary doldrums of reality. The typical Vancouver forecast of mostly overcast skies, with the possibility of rain, which could turn to snow later in the day, was doing nothing to make my Monday any less gloomy.

On that note, boy do the weather forecasters around here ever have an easy job. Just slapping up every symbol in their arsenal is not a helpful means of prognostication when one is trying to plan what to wear for the day. When your forecast includes the symbols for sun, clouds, rain and snow on the same day, I'm pretty sure that's just another way of saying that there will be weather today and we have no idea what sort it will be.

As per usual, I braced for Maggie's steely gaze as I entered the office. However, instead of being safely stored in her office, today I found her standing behind my desk, both hands firmly grasping a leash which was attached to a tiny ball of black and yellow fur, doing her best to keep the puppy as far away from her as humanly possible.

"I believe that we have previously discussed the requirement that you be behind the desk promptly at 8, if not earlier," Maggie noted coldly as she shot me a disapproving glare.

And hello to you too. My weekend was lovely, thank you.

It was all of 8:02. I thought I deserved a medal for my promptness in light of the weather and it being a Monday.

"Anyway, the Cheadles are in a session this morning and they brought their dog along. It cannot be in the room with them, so you'll have to deal with it until they are done. Just keep it out of sight and don't let it make a mess on the floor," she concluded as she handed me the leash and disappeared down the hall before I could protest.

What did I look like? A glorified pet sitter? On second thought, 'glorified' might be a bit of a stretch. On the other hand, it beat fetching coffee and he was a cute little fellow...

"Ouch!" I yelped involuntarily, looking down at the now slightly less cute little ball of fur that was currently gnawing away at what had once been a lovely pair of Nine West pumps which had required me to gently nudge a spoiled teen out of the way to obtain on Boxing Day.

"You have got to be a little boy. No lady would ever treat a pair of pumps that way," I noted to the puppy as I attempted to pry him away off my foot before picking him up and perching him on the desk in front of me.

"I think we need to get you some water and some newspapers just in case, because like most boys, you appear to need some additional training," I said to him as I scratched the top of his head.

"Who is this little cutie?" Veronica asked as she stepped through the door, glancing around to make sure Maggie hadn't noticed her own tardy entrance, before dashing over to the reception desk.

"Well, we haven't been properly introduced, but I do know that he belongs to the Cheadles and that he has excellent taste in shoes," I replied as I lifted my foot to show Veronica the results of our fury little buddy's handiwork.

"Oh no! Maggie should really let you expense replacements for those but I don't know if I would have the stones to march in there and ask if I was in your shoes, no pun intended," Veronica responded, unhelpfully.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that there was nothing in my job description about pet sitting, so maybe I'll mention it to her. But I'm thinking that maybe I'll surprise her and come in early tomorrow before I bring up that idea," I replied, doing a little strategic thinking as I scratched my new buddy's fury little belly as he wriggled with pleasure.

If only all men were this easy to please.

"How was your weekend?" I inquired, quietly hoping that she would reciprocate so that I could tell her about my date with Jonathan.

"I had Derek over for dinner last night, thinking that it would be a nice romantic night. Instead, I found out that he's literally allergic to red wine and he's a country music fan. Can you believe it? It had been going so well! I can tell that our little buddy here is not the only man in my life that's going to take some training before he's housebroken," Veronica responded, sounding slightly exasperated.

"Well, I keep hearing that the best things in life are supposed to be worth the effort. I've put in a whole lot of effort for some pretty mediocre results so far, but there's no way that Dr. Phil could have been wrong about something like this, right?" I said with a giggle as I clamped my hand around my fury friend's mouth to keep him from eating the buttons off my blouse and then kissed him on top of his fury little head.
The best way to get a puppy is to beg for a baby brother – and they'll settle for a puppy every time – Winston Pendelton

23. Later that day, having decided that it would be best if I had a receipt in hand before I mentioned the idea of reimbursement for my mortally wounded shoes to Maggie, I headed out along Robson Street to see if I could spot any intriguing options.

I suspected that Maggie might find a way to poke a hole or two in my argument, but I wasn't going to let that nagging voice (and/or boss) ruin a perfectly good session of retail therapy.

As I was contemplating the relative benefits of being able to pay my rent versus treating my underprivileged feet to a gorgeous pair of buttery soft leather knee high boots (at least my feet would have a nice place to stay, even if the rest of me was homeless), I heard the familiar theme song to Sex and the City wafting towards me from my pursue.

I had decided to go with a somewhat cheesy homage to Mr. Big for my brother's ring tone as my brother had laughably fancied himself as a bit of a player prior to meeting Haley.

"Hey bro, how's winter in the desert? Has Haley knitted your camel a toque yet?" I asked, only slightly embittered as a result of not having seen the sun for the last 5 days and having to wade through the slush that was still clogging up the sidewalks.

"I can't lie, it's been pretty frigid the last couple of days. We barely hit 20°C for our daytime high the other day. It's the first time that we have ever had to heat the pool. Brrrr!" he replied, mockingly.

"So, speaking of feeling the heat," he continued, "did you, or did you not, send our mother to a hot yoga class in which she keeled over? I got an email from dad but he was a bit sketchy on the details."

"I did no such thing!" I exclaimed, with a healthy dose of righteous indignation. "I simply suggested that it might be good for her if she became a bit more active instead of just trying out another post-Christmas diet this year. I did mention that a restorative yoga class might be a good starting place, just as a trial," I continued, feeling quite defensive about my role in the saga.

Knowing how Rob felt about yoga, I went on the offensive, adding, "Actually, it might do you some good too. I know you're about as supple and flexible as an 80 year old man in a back brace, but restorative yoga is nice and gentle and it's not done in a heated room. Anyway, based on what dad told me, mum just got a bit too relaxed in one of the poses and you know what happens when she falls asleep on her back."

"I was there for our family camping trips. She sounds like a rhino getting ready to charge. Did they really ask her to leave the class?" he inquired incredulously.

"No, no, no" I replied. "She made it to the end of class after the instruction woke her up, but you know that she always refuses to walk up that hill to get home? Well, dad told me that he was waiting for her call when she appeared all on her own. She told him that she had heard all our comments and wanted to prove that it was all nonsense. Personally, I don't think she wanted to have dad drive down there and hear the story from someone else."

"I always wondered what it would take to finally get her up that hill," my brother replied with a laugh.

"Hey, speaking of stories, I almost forget to tell you why I called.... Haley is pregnant!" he announced triumphantly after a brief pause to let the anticipation build.

"Really?! I'm going to be an auntie? That's fantastic! Congrats bro, that's so exciting! Is Haley there too? Can I talk to her?"

There had been a long period of my childhood when I was certain that my brother would never find a woman that would let him touch her, let alone reproduce with him. Additionally, the idea of him spawning offspring had seemed like it would most likely be counterproductive for the gene pool.

Thankfully, he had matured a bit with age and Haley had managed to round off some of the remaining rough edges. Regardless, I was genuinely thrilled at the prospect of becoming an aunt!

As I let the news sink in, it quickly dawned on me that this news might also lead to a reduction in the number of blatantly obvious comments from my mum about how much fun her friends were having spending time with their grandkids.

Subtlety was not one of her strengths.

As I was pondering my potential reprieve from the guilt trips over my barren, childless existence, Haley's voice burst onto the line, "Anna, can you believe it? We're both still giddy!"

Just wait until you see my brother's reaction when he is faced with his first smelly diaper to change or you try to get him to wake up at three in the morning and he just rolls over on you. I'm willing to bet that the giddiness will subside.

"That's so exciting for the two of you. I can't wait to babysit for you guys when you're in town and I get to meet the new addition," I responded, elatedly.

The best part of a relative having a baby has got to be the knowledge that, even if the new babe kicks up a fuss or doesn't take a shine to me, I can spoil it rotten, hopefully appreciate a few cute movements, and then hand him or her back at the end of the day.

"So, when are you due? Are you guys thinking of moving back to Vancouver?" I inquired, secretly hoping that my parents might take a little sabbatical abroad when the time came.

"We're still talking about that but I'm not due till the end of September. We think it might have been a Christmas present," Haley replied.

"What a perfect story!" I exclaimed.

Truly a gift for everyone involved!
Love is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired – Robert Frost

24. I opened the door to the office the next day feeling a bit blue. My birthday, coming up that Saturday, was rapidly approaching and Valentine's Day was looming only a week after that.

In addition to facing the big 3 – 0 head on, I hadn't heard from Jonathan since we had gone skating and we had yet to make any definitive plans for either of the upcoming occasions.

To make matters worse, my hair had thrown a hissy fit this morning and I was a bit less punctual than usual. I was in no mood for another tongue-lashing from Maggie but, thankfully, she was nowhere in sight when I slipped inside the door.

Spending the next several hours as coffee wench for multiple moody, morose, separated couples had done nothing to improve my mood when a courier walked through the door and handed me a package.

As I was about to toss the package into the mail basket, I idly glanced at the name on the card. Surprise, surprise; it was addressed to me.

Tearing the package open, I found a gorgeous formal birthday invitation inside.

For the portrait, Jonathan appeared to have snagged a picture off of Facebook from a past year's birthday festivities showing myself surrounded by my friends and the remains of a large amount of wrapping paper.

The invite itself read as follows:

Please join me this Saturday for a day of pampering and indulgence. At 10 a.m., I will chauffeur yourself and Elyse to the spa for your choice of treatments. At 2 p.m., we will be heading to a speciality shoe maker who will work hand-in-hand with you to create your own one-of-a-kind footwear of your choice and design. Later that evening, our culinary experience will include the city's finest selection of oysters accompanied by spectacular vistas.

Disclaimer – the above offer has been pre-approved by your significant other and is guaranteed not to interfere with any other birthday related events which may or may not occur.

Please RSVP at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

Jonathan

Wow, that certainly brightened my day. This guy was definitely a keeper!

My birthday celebrations in previous relationships had typically involved tickets to a sporting event and, if I was lucky, dinner at the guy's favourite restaurant.

While I cheer for the Canucks every winter, and I think I look pretty cute in my fitted, pink jersey, I'm pretty sure that I've never dropped hints about tickets to a game while I've been wistfully gazing into Chanel's store windows.

One thing's for certain, never once has the creation of shoes been involved in my birthday festivities. And how did I not know that such a fabulous option even existed?

Still riding a blissful high of excitement, and already mulling over potential designs in my head, I texted Jonathan to whole-heartedly confirm my attendance.

I would like to confirm my availability for all of the proposed events. Kudos for checking with my significant other first. Any information you can provide with respect to other birthday activities will bank you significant brownie points which may be redeemed, as needed, at a later date.

On the odd occasion where I had been pursued by guys like Clayton, I knew that there was nothing I couldn't ask for. But as nice as it is to find a designer purse inside a gift bag, it took remarkably little thought to come up with, and presents like that have always made me feel like he was trying to buy me rather than wanting to get to know me.

Jonathan's invite had given me shivers because I knew he was trying his best to find a place in my heart by coming up with ideas that were meaningful to me and he was doing a pretty good job of it so far.

Now if only I could weasel some information out of him about what Elyse had in store for me. Elyse had yet to mention anything to me about birthday plans and I wasn't a huge fan of surprises.

If I could use my feminine wiles to extract a few clues, well, I wasn't above playing that card.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with an incoming text:

I have been sworn to secrecy regarding any and all other potential birthday-related events. Graphic and explicit details were provided regarding what would happen to me if I divulged any information to you. Your roommate may be tiny but she's a bit scary and pretty imaginative. So, nice try, but no dice 

Foiled! Oh well, whatever Elyse had planned was guaranteed to be entertaining, plus I still got to design my own shoes! Not much more a girl could ask for.

Well, perhaps a little alone time with Jonathan might be fun too...
Be nice to people on your way because you meet them on your way down – Jimmy Durante

25. Just before lunch, Heather Mews, our most proficient and sought after mediator, wandered up to my desk.

At 5'10, with an athletic build, an impeccably tailored suit and her naturally blonde hair tied up in a tight bun, she was an intimidating presence and not one to be trifled with.

Heather was in her late 30's, with a couple of adorable little kids, and an equally ambitious husband who was a partner at a large tax firm.

While Heather had always been pleasant enough to Veronica and I, the manner in which she carried herself and her somewhat brusque attitude had a way of discouraging idle chit-chat. As a result, I was a bit surprised when I looked up and found her at our desk, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Anna, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked, looking slightly haggard.

"Of course Heather, what can I do for you?" I responded, slightly nervous about where this was heading.

"I have a function with my husband tonight that I can't seem to get out of. My nanny has contracted pink eye, so she can't be around my kids for the next 48 hours and I'm in a bit of a bind. You've met my children a few times before, right?"

I had spent half of last year's office Christmas party at Maggie's place playing Rock Band with Heather's kids and drinking copious quantities of eggnog with Veronica in what had turned out to be a futile effort to avoid our co-workers.

I was reasonably sure that her kids now knew a bit too much about some of the intimate details of my previous relationships, but this was probably not the time to mention that sort of thing to Heather.

"Yes, a few times at the Christmas parties and such. Very cute," I replied, benignly.

I was always a bit on edge around Heather anyway and the idea of being solely responsible for her munchkins was doing nothing to improve the situation.

"Thanks, and from what they told me, they seemed to think highly of you as well. Would you have any interest in watching them for a couple of hours tonight? I'll make sure I leave the event and get home as soon as possible."

Hmm, well, I did have a big night of reality TV planned with Elyse and Kahlua. I would hate to miss the first episode of this season's Bachelorette and my chance to check out the full line-up of eye candy, but there was a reasonably good chance that I could get the kids in bed before it started and a few extra bucks never hurt to pay off the post-Christmas bills.

"Okay, sure, I would be happy to help," I replied meekly, thinking that, if nothing else, it would be a great chance to check out Heather's not so humble abode.

"Thanks so much Anna, I really appreciate it," Heather responded as she promptly handed me a sticky note with her address.

"Please be there by six. Oh, and Anna," she said, turning to look back at me, "I got some interesting questions from Krista after the last Christmas party about a neck injury you sustained in 1969. You've evidently aged extremely gracefully since then but try to be a bit more discrete tonight, please."

Those little brats! Apparently the sanctity of the pinky swear wasn't quite what it used to be.
Raising kids is part joy and part guerilla warfare – Ed Asner

26. Shortly after having been discharged from my post for the evening, I found myself standing in front of Heather's massive, mildly intimidating, oak doors, mentally rebuking myself for not having come up with a quick excuse that would have let me avoid the potential minefields that were no doubt lying in wait for me inside.

I probably should have explained to Heather that the only reason her kids seemed to like me so much is because we shared a similar level of maturity.

Don't get me wrong. I can't wait to having my own progeny someday and imbue them with a healthy dose of the wit and charm that makes me so endearing and lovable.

That being said, I had absolutely no desire to spend the rest of my administrative career hearing from Heather how I had imprinted a bit too much of that unique something that made me me on her scions and somehow undoing years of her proficient parenting in the process.

As Heather ushered me inside, I was utterly unsurprised to find that her home was both gorgeous and spotlessly clean. Standing in the foyer, taking in the soaring ceiling, the gleaming hardwood floors and the spotless granite counters, I felt like I should bubble wrap myself before I ventured any further.

While my own childhood home was probably not destined to make an appearance on a future episode of 'Cribs', I couldn't help thinking that there was something to be said for growing up in a place where it was okay for a kid to be a kid.

As I glanced around, I was pretty sure that "Welcome home Daddy" had never been scrawled in crayon across these floors in a well-meaning, if not completely appreciated, gesture of affection.

As Heather hurriedly provided me with her contact details and detailed instructions on who was to be in bed by when, her kids, Emma, a three year old with braided strawberry blonde hair and an impish grin, and Erica, a five year old with strong blonde hair like her mom that she had let grow halfway to her waist, were taking turns giggling at me and making faces from the couch whenever Heather turned her back on them.

As Heather rushed out the door, her kids politely said their goodbyes and stood by the door looking and acting practically angelic.

However, based on my experience at the Christmas party, I had a feeling that I was about to get the substitute teacher treatment as soon as that door shut.

Thirty minutes later, after being assured by both Emma and Erica that "mommy lets us do this all the time," I had somehow been persuaded to assist each of them with performing mini makeovers.

I figured a little nail polish and mascara, judiciously applied, couldn't do any lasting damage and, on the bright side, it seemed to be keeping them occupied and out of trouble.

Unfortunately, no sooner had that ridiculously naïve thought had entered my head when I heard Emma giggling like mad from across the hall. I immediately grabbed Erica by the hand and quickly scooted over to Emma's room.

"Oh Emma, what did you do?" I wailed plaintively as I noticed that her previously snow white gerbil had somehow acquired a red lipstick racing stripe across its back which it was furiously, and unsuccessfully, trying to lick off.

"I gave Polly a makeover!" Emma squealed, proudly pointing out her handiwork, as if I couldn't see my nightmare unfolding before my eyes without her assistance.

Wait, Polly the Gerbil? Really?

Giving that thought the nanosecond it deserved, I quickly scooped up Polly as I said to Emma, "I have a strict no animal testing policy when it comes to makeup. PETA is going to be all over us if they find out about this," I replied as lightheartedly as I could muster given the circumstances before rushing out of the room to grab a paper towel and wetting it under the tap.

As Polly convulsed in my arms in an attempt to flee from the damp towel that I gently dabbed her with, I couldn't help thinking that, if I had been just a little less eager to please, I would currently be at home watching Chris Harrison and ABC exploiting another 30 hot, successful men, eager to do pretty much anything for their 15 seconds of fame (and of course a shot at a doomed relationship as well).

Instead, I was left contemplating whether it was safe to use a hair dryer on a large, now very musky smelling, rodent.

Does life get any better than this?

After images of Polly passing out due to heat stroke or catching on fire both passed fleetingly through my head, I decided that low tech was the way to go.

Grabbing a hand towel, I did my best to dry the little critter off before returning her to her cage and firmly shutting the latch.

Grabbing each of the girls firmly by the hand, I asked, "So, who wants to show me where your mommy keeps the wine before I tuck the two of you into bed?"

Several hours later when Heather returned home, I was happily able to report that everyone (and every creature) was alive and well (or at least as well as could be expected).

Having thought better about leaving behind an empty bottle of wine for Heather to discover and comment on tomorrow, I instead made a quick escape and headed home to ease my shattered nerves with a bottle of red.

Call me a traditionalist but I firmly believe that drinking alone in the dark should be reserved for the friendly confines of one's own home.
Facts are the enemy of truth – Don Quixote

27. As I groggily stumbled out of bed the next morning, painfully aware of the impending departure of my twenties, I was hit by yet another horrifying thought. Today, as a extraordinary early birthday present just for me, was the date of my annual performance review.

There are few things I like less in life than having my performance critiqued. It was even more grating when said review was based solely on the opinion of one cantankerous old woman who interacted with me for all of maybe two minutes a day, and who also happened to have full control over both my bonus and my status as a continuing employee.

All of these factors tended to significantly limit my willingness to provide any honest feedback as I was reasonably certain that, at best, my opinions would clash with her own and, at worst, would severely limit my ability to pay my rent going forward.

As I stared in horror at the consequences of the previous night's libations now clearly reflected in the bathroom mirror, I decided that being late today was not an option, no matter how scary I looked and, as such, some sacrifices to my morning routine were going to be necessitated.

As I flew out of the condo with my damp hair wrapped around my neck and my makeup necessities stuffed into the pockets of my coat, it occurred to me that perhaps it would make sense to set a calendar alert for these sorts of events in the future.

I managed to somehow survive my drive to the office while multitasking to my utmost. In light of recent happenings, I was well aware of the potential perils of such actions, but desperate times called for desperate measures!

I rushed through the doors to the office a full two minutes early and placed Maggie's cup of coffee on her desk promptly at 8, faking the most sincere smile that I could muster as I felt a drop of water from my still damp hair slide down the back of my neck.

"Anna, you're looking a bit out of sorts today. Is something the matter?" Maggie inquired, glancing up at me from her desk with a frown etched across her face.

Really? I'm here early and delivering you fresh coffee without prompting and I don't get as much as a thank you?

"I must just be getting older," I muttered sullenly, biting my tongue as it crossed my mind that today was not the best day to tell her that she had been looking a bit haggard since the first time I had met her.

Heading back to my desk, I was already on edge from my interaction with Maggie when Heather came flying through the door.

"Anna, do you have a moment?" she asked me, concern written clearly across her face.

"Sure thing, Heather," I replied timidly, my hands trembling under the desk as an image of Heather walking in on Polly this morning, only to find her feet up and stiff as a board, popped into my head.

"Thanks again for watching the kids last night. The girls seem to really enjoy having you as a sitter, but didn't they tell you that I don't let them put makeup on?"

"No, they didn't mention that to me," I responded, doing my best to choose my words carefully.

Those brats! Lying to me and then throwing me under the bus yet again!

"Really? They told me that they had but that you said it would be okay?"

What is the world coming to when a five year old can look you in the eye and lie to your face?

"I'm sorry Heather, but I didn't know that they weren't allowed to," I replied, cautious not to overtly call out the little liars as I silently seethed.

I should have burst her bubble about her little angels but, just in case Maggie asked her opinion about me before the review, I decided to hold off on that breaking news. She could find out for herself when one of them turned 15 and brought a drummer home with her for family dinner.

"Hmm, perhaps there was a miscommunication," she retorted, casting a look of suspicion my way before turning on her heel and abruptly walking away.

"Always a pleasure to help a friend in need," I muttered under my breath once I was sure that she was well out of earshot.

After that fantastic start to my day, I then had to endure an agonizing countdown in anticipation of my review which was set for 2:30 that afternoon.

Veronica was set to face the firing squad on right before me and we were equally pessimistic about our chances of getting a decent bonus this year.

On the plus side, I was hoping that I would at least get to hear what to expect from Veronica before I had to go and face the music myself.

As I was mentally preparing myself, Veronica emerged from Maggie's office with a stunned expression on her face. However, before I could get a chance to inquire as to how it went, Maggie followed her down the hall and asked me to join her in her office.

As I closed the door and found a seat, I could feel my heart pounding furiously. I wasn't particularly worried about the review itself. The occasional bout of tardiness aside, I was certain that I did an adequate job of fetching coffee and making appointments.

On the other hand, due to some larger than expected Christmas shopping bills, I was anxious to hear about my bonus. When your credit card statement is about the same length as a short story, a little extra cash could go a long ways towards composing a happy ending. Maybe I could entitle my short story "What shoes to wear when living in a cardboard box"?

"So, before we get to my comments, why don't you tell how you think things are going from your perspective," Maggie began, no hint of emotion emanating from behind her steely gaze.

"Well, I know I've been a minute or two late here and there, but outside of that, I think I have a great rapport with the rest of the staff and the clients. Also, I think that I'm a positive ambassador for company when I'm interacting with the public and that people respond well to me," I responded, thinking that my positive traits far outshone some occasional tardiness.

"Anna, you should know that I do keep track of your arrival times and, in the last year alone, you have been tardy on 37 different occasions," Maggie retorted as she scowled fiercely at me.

Yikes, well wasn't the best way to start things off, was it? But really, did a minute or two here or there really matter when that time was being spent making sure I looked presentable, if not resplendent, for her clients?

"I haven't really kept a running tally, but I'm sure that I've never been more than a minute or two late," I replied as I flashed her the most angelic smile I could muster given the circumstances.

Sighing with exasperation, Maggie retorted, "Anna, I agree that you seem to get along well with the clients and you're reasonably professional in your dealings with the public, but you're not a child. You know when we open and when you're expected to be here. I shouldn't have to constantly remind you of the basic requirements of your job."

"Okay, I understand and I will make sure that you don't have to remind me again," I pledged in an effort to cut my critique as short as possible.

I suppose I could always bump up my alarm by five minutes. On the other hand, I wonder if Maggie has read any of the studies that note the importance of sleep and its relationship to productivity?

After discretely taking a quick peek upwards and running smack into Maggie's harsh and unrelenting stare, I decided that perhaps it would be best to wait to enlighten her on this topic until after the bonus cheques had been distributed.

"Alright, putting that issue aside for the moment, I would like to address one other matter with you," she continued as she pulled a sheet of paper out of her desk drawer and slid it across to me.

"I found this in the copy room several months ago when I arrived at work. You wouldn't happen to know anything about where this came from, would you?"

I emitted an audible gulp as I turned the sheet over and unexpectedly came face to face with a black and white copy of my, mostly naked, rear end.

Months earlier, during a flirtatious moment with Paul one evening after everyone else had already departed for the night, I had hopped up on the photocopier while we were chatting in the copy room and, as he leaned in during a feisty bit of bantering between us, he had hit surreptitiously hit the copy button.

I was positive that I had grabbed the copy from him and I had made sure that it had gone straight into the shredder but the machine must have been set to make duplicate copies.

Thank God I had at least been wearing a thong!

With my face quickly turning crimson and my hands shaking noticeably, I took a deep breath, composed myself the best I could, and stammered, "Was that made around Thanksgiving? It looks like someone made a black and white copy of two hams sitting next to each other."

Okay, I know that was pretty weak, but unless Maggie had some way of proving that it was my butt on that page, there was no way in hell that I was going to be admitting to being part of that little indiscretion, regardless of how clearly my culpability was written across my face.

All of a sudden, I noticed that my vision was starting to go in and out of focus.

That can't be good. Was it possible to have a heart attack before one turns 30?

After staring intently at me in silence for what felt like an eternity, Maggie responded, "I've already spoken to Mr. D'Antoni about this matter and I know exactly what that sheet is a copy of. I had been hoping that you would have been truthful about this matter, as he was. If you had been, it would have been much easier for me to attempt to look past this."

As she stared at me with a look of utter disappointment, my mind was spinning. Was she really going to fire me over something as silly as this? And was I really going to sit here and let her blame me for something that was far more Paul's fault than my own?

As I sat there stewing, I finally decided it was time to speak my mind.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Maggie, yes I was sitting on the photocopier, but Paul hit the copy button without warning me and I thought I shredded the only copy. It's admirable that he decided to own up to it, but I wasn't going to tattle on him behind his back. I would never do that to a friend or a co-worker."

Speaking of friends, where had my warning been? Would it have killed that little midget to give me a heads-up on the ticking time bomb that he set in motion?

As my anger towards Paul, Maggie and my career as a whole coalesced in my mind and quickly proceeded to boiled over, I continued, "Maggie, whether you can look past this incident or not, I think maybe it's time for me to move on. I am grateful to you for my time here, but I'm not sure that my skills are really being utilized in this role or that I'm fulfilling my potential."

Fulfilling my potential? When had I started channeling my mother's voice and what about the potential of not having a roof over my head?

At that point, my whole body began to tremble uncontrollably as the reality of my pending unemployment hit me.

Still glaring intently at me, now with her arms crossed tightly in front of her, Maggie confirmed, "So, to be clear, you are resigning from your position then?"

Worst case, Elyse will find me a job at her bar. I can survive this.

"Yes, I am. I think it's time for me to move on," I replied quietly, doing my best to hold her gaze and not erupt into a sobbing mess.

Wait! If she was going to fire me anyways, I could have gotten severance! Dammit! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Alright then, if that's your decision, when will your last day be?" Maggie inquired, giving me a temporary reprieve from my predicament.

"I was thinking that February 21st would work for me," I replied, sullenly.

That would give me almost a month to create and circulate my resume. A month should be plenty of time to find the job of my dreams, right? After all, who doesn't want to hire an English major with significant experience as an administrative assistant?

Now all I had to do was figure out what I was actually interested in doing for the rest of my life. Given how well things had been going so far, how hard could that be?

"Alright then, perhaps you could prepare a short letter to that effect and drop it off with me at your convenience so that I have it for my records. I'll let you announce your decision to the rest of the staff if you prefer. Also, I do still have your bonus cheque for last year. Hopefully it adequately reflects your contribution to the office for that period," Maggie noted self-righteously as she brusquely handed me an envelope.

I certainly was hoping so, particularly in light of the recent drastic downturn in my short-term financial outlook. However, the miniscule amounts I had received in previous years left me with serious doubts.

Knowing that I would probably be stuck using her as a reference, I did my best to keep any bitterness out of my voice as I replied, "Yes, I think my previous bonuses have always accurately reflected how my contributions to the office have been valued."

With that, I picked myself up and hustled out of the office as quickly as I could before I completely lost my composure. The moment I was free of Maggie's little house of horrors, I tore open the envelope and I quickly figured out why Veronica had looked so stunned as she had walked back to her desk.

For once, Maggie had loosened her vice like grip on her purse strings.

I had tears in my eyes as I headed off down the hall to tell Veronica the news of my imminent departure, but the ability to loosen VISA's vise-like grip on my bank account certainly helped to soften the blow.
How wrong it is for a woman to expect the man to build the world she wants, rather than to create it herself – Anais Nin

28. I texted Jonathan shortly after I departed from Maggie's office, hoping that he might be available to console me over drinks as I found myself in desperate need of alcohol to numb myself from some upcoming economic realities that I was in no way ready to contemplate.

Part of me was also hoping that he might be able to lend a hand with a different issue that I had been having lately. Thumper had been getting a workout as of late and I was craving the intimacy of another person.

Unfortunately, I was doomed to be disappointed on every level as Jonathan replied back that he was working on a deal which could go late into the night, but that he would call me as soon as he could.

So, instead of talking out my problems with Jonathan, I instead found myself seated at the counter of the bar that Elyse was currently working at where I managed to keep up a very animated, yet strangely one-sided, conversation with my wine glass.

Apparently listening to my tale of woe was thirsty work as my audience developed an unfortunate habit of running dry on several occasions during the course of my rambling monologue.

During an interlude in my one-woman show, Elyse popped to check on me. Having noticed the perpetually parched state of my drinking companion throughout the course of the night, she shot me a concerned glance before whispering confidentially, "So, I was just chatting with Terry, and he mentioned that he could find room in the schedule for you to serve here if you're interested. You'll just give him a couple of weeks' notice so that he can work you into the schedule."

Terry was Elyse's manager and I had probably met him on more than a dozen occasions since Elyse had starting working at the bar.

Every time we had chatted in the past, he had eyed me up and down like he was sizing up a cut of choice steak. Then again, as a bar manager, his discerning eye probably helped to keep the tips rolling in and I wasn't exactly in a position to be picky about my employment opportunities.

"That's so fantastic! Thanks Elyse, I owe you babe," I said, reaching over to give her a hug across the bar.

Elyse continued on, saying, "No worries, it's the least I could do considering how many times you've helped me out. But that's not even the best news I have for you. Do you see the blond guy with the pink socks sitting directly behind you?"

Glancing behind me was more of a challenge than I had expected as the room had unexpectedly started to wobble, but I eventually managed to follow her gaze to a slim, metro looking fella that clearly knew how to dress.

"I know I mentioned that Thumper needs new batteries, but I'm really not in the market right now. Besides, he's a bit petit for my tastes. I might break him," I giggled to Elyse.

"No, silly, I'm not even sure which way he goes to be honest, but that's not the point. He's friends with one of my ex's and he's in publishing. I told him about you and I mentioned that you were an English major and that you might be looking for a career change. What do you think? Can I introduce you?"

What I thought was that attempting to chat with a potential employer with this amount of liquor in me was a recipe for disaster. It probably wouldn't make the best impression to have Elyse reschedule because I was too drunk to stand up though.

"I think that's really sweet of you to look out for me, but I look like a wreck and I've been downing pinot like my plane's going down. I feel like a publisher might look down on me if I'm slurring whatever inappropriate words come shooting out of my mouth," I replied, vaguely foreseeing a potential tragedy in the making.

"Don't worry about it. You look great and the liquor will keep you from getting nervous. Come on, I'll take his drink over and introduce you," she retorted, grabbing me under the arm and towing me behind her.

"Nigel," Elyse said, touching his shoulder lightly as we arrived at his table. "This is Anna, my eloquent, hardworking, and eager to learn room-mate."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said, missing his hand entirely on my first attempt before firmly clasping his hand in mine on my second attempt.

"The pleasure's all mine. I will have to chastise Elyse when she comes back for neglecting to mention that you are also quite stunning. Would you like to join me for a drink?" he asked, as he politely pulled out a chair for me.

"Okay, maybe just for one drink," I replied, as I attempted to sit down whilst feverishly wishing that the chair would stop swaying quite so much.

I was silently praying that Nigel was just being a gentleman as he slid my chair in for me, catching me gracefully and just in the nick of time.

"So Elyse tells me that you're pondering a career change?" Nigel inquired casually as he signalled for another glass of wine.

For a little guy, he was pretty cute. Well defined jaw line with a little bit of well manicured scruff on his chin. I couldn't help wondering if he had grown it to make himself look less baby faced or to prove that he could, but either way, it worked pretty well for him.

He also had a set of vivid, piercing blue eyes that appeared to be quite attentive to every curve that I had showing. However, his beautifully cut charcoal suit, the handkerchief in his pocket in the perfect complimentary shade of pink, and the slight lisp in his voice, all left me with the same sense of curiosity that Elyse had alluded to earlier.

"Yes, I think I've gone as far as I can in my current role and I'm definitely open to trying new positions, err, a new position," I stammered, blushing so violently that I probably matched the color of my pinot noir.

I do not know how I let Elyse convince me that this was a good idea.

"So, what sort of position are you looking to get yourself into?" Nigel inquired, unable to completely contain a grin that had appeared after my verbal faux pas.

Interesting question and if Jonathan didn't put out soon, or if I had any more of that wine, I was going to be pretty open to suggestions.

"Well, I have my B.A. and I majored in English, so I would love to find a role where I can put my degree to use. I've really been feeling like I'm lacking stimulation lately," I responded, doing my best not to slur my words (which was rather difficult as my tongue felt like it had recently undergone a growth spurt).

Actually I was pretty open to any form of stimulation that didn't require batteries since, given the recent revisions to my budget, even those might soon be beyond my reach.

"So, you're looking to find something that can inject a sense of fulfillment into your life?" he asked, gazing at me with an amused expression which may or may not have also contained a hint of interest that went beyond the purely professional.

I was reasonably certain by that point that anything that got inserted in the near future was going feel awfully fulfilling.

"I guess I'm hoping to find a career that I can really immerse myself in and a role that allows me to grow as a person. I want to feel like I'm making a meaningful contribution. I don't want to feel like I can just be tossed aside," I replied, flailing an arm for emphasis.

"I can certainly relate to that," Nigel sympathized as he discretely pushed the wine glasses out of my arm's swing path.

"I started off in the mail room of a major publishing house in New York and I worked my way up doing any job that I could get my hands on before I came out here and started my own company," he continued.

A hint of a lisp had crept up again during his story, causing a unfortunate image to pop into my head as I pondered just what kind of jobs he might have got his hands on in order to get ahead.

I still hadn't figured out if his attentiveness towards me was platonic or perhaps something more but both my curiosity, and my confusion, were growing.

"That's fantastic! It must be so nice not having to answer to anyone else. I would love to have the opportunity to learn from someone like you. Do you currently have any openings that I might be appropriate for?" I inquired as I glanced at him, jutting my chest out ever so slightly, just in case...

"I do appreciate your enthusiasm and I always enjoy having someone under me that's open to learning new skills," he responded with a twinkle in his eye.

After mulling over my inquiry for a moment, he continued, "I'll have to check with our human resources manager but I think we still have an opening in our publicity department for a junior publicity specialist. Why don't you send me a copy of your resume tomorrow and I'll give some thought as to whether your skills match with what I'm looking for," he concluded with a trace of a grin.

I really needed to have to chat with Elyse later to get some more dirt on this guy because, for the life of me, I could not figure out where his interest in me lay.

That being said, a job in a publicity department of a publishing company sounded amazing regardless of whether he was interested in my abilities or my assets.

I just hoped that I wasn't going to regret my performance tonight when I sobered up tomorrow morning...
The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds, and the pessimist fears this is true – James Cabell

29. The next morning, I awoke to find my eyes plastered shut from dehydration and my arms unable or unwilling either to turn off the alarm or to hurl it far, far away.

As I lay there motionless, with my head throbbing violently, I tried to recall minor details from the day before such as whether I had quit or been fired from my job, whether I was once again employed as a waitress, and just how badly I had embarrassed myself with the head of a publishing company who was likely my only hope for a real career, I wondered to myself; does life get any better than this?

Twenty minutes later, as I gently swayed to and fro in front of my bathroom mirror, my eyes barely open wide enough to allow me to gaze in horror at the tangles of hair shooting in every direction, it slowly dawned on me that things could indeed be worse. Some of the details from the previous night suddenly hit me like a tsunami of memories that I needed to represses forever such my unsuccessful attempts at shaking Nigel's hand, my tenuous ability to sit down without assistance and some of my stellar verbal miscues.

I may have blacked out briefly whilst in the midst of my preparations but, ever the glutton for punishment, at some indeterminate point later that day; I arrived back at the reception desk.

Let's face it, checking a clock at that point was not going to improve my mood and I was pretty sure that Maggie wasn't going to help me out and fire someone who had been dumb enough to resign when a severance package had likely only been seconds away.

Veronica looked up at me with a startled expression on her face as I sat down with a thud, "Wow, what happened to you last night? You look like you didn't sleep a wink. Were you up worrying about finding a new job?"

My hair was still sopping wet and my makeup was nowhere in sight so Veronica's concern at my appearance was understandable.

I had told her about what had transpired in my review with Maggie before I had departed the office yesterday and we had both been crushed by the thought of not getting to spend out days together.

This job may not have been particularly challenging or fulfilling but how many people get to work next to one of their best friends every day?

"I'm not sure if sleep is the right verb, but I'm pretty sure that I eventually passed out at some point," I murmured softly, as I reached for a bottle of extra strength Tylenol.

"Elyse invited me out to her bar last night to cheer me up but she didn't tell me that she had arranged for a friend of hers who's in publishing to come out and meet me. She introduced us and we chatted about what he does and what sort of job I'm looking for. He even mentioned that he might have a role in his publicity department that sounded perfect for me."

"Unfortunately, I ran into a few issues with things like shaking his hand, sitting down and talking, so it's possible that I might not have made the best first impression on him," I concluded morosely while praying that both my memories of last night, and the pounding in my head, might soon fade into oblivion. A location where they would undoubtedly be warmly greeted by my current employment prospects.

"You're looking at this all wrong," Veronica replied, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

"Without even sending out a resume, you already managed to get a face to face interview for a job you actually want! Besides, if Elyse had told him about your situation and that you had just quit earlier that day, I'm sure that he must have understood why you might not have been at your best," she added, doing her best to perk me up.

"You were out drinking last night? Where was my invite?" Paul inquired innocently as he strolled over to our desks.

"It must have gotten left on the copy room floor," I retorted, acerbically.

While I was well aware of my own culpability in the copy room transgression, the reality of having to go back to bartending until I found a real job was hitting home hard today.

I was also more than a bit perturbed that while Paul had been the one to actually make the copy, he apparently had made it through the incident relatively unscathed.

Paul looked down sheepishly as he replied, "Yeah, I heard about that incident in my review too. Honestly, I tried to fall on my sword and own up to it, but I guess it didn't do too much good. I feel awful about the whole situation. I am really going to miss having you around. I did get you a little something by way of an apology though," he concluded as he produced a large, beautifully wrapped package.

My anger briefly subsided at the sight of the parcel. Unemployed or not, what girl doesn't like presents?

I struggled with the wrapping paper for a moment; my curiosity piqued. As I began to tear at the paper in a slightly undignified display, I was soon able to glimpse what lay inside. Looking up, I couldn't help cracking a bit of a smile as I said, "Wow Paul, I can honestly say that you really shouldn't have," as I held up a framed copy of what appeared to be a very hairy man's buttocks with the caption 'Every life has its hairy moments. Just be glad that yours are only temporary.'

"In case you're thinking that it's not always the thought that counts, I also got you a gift card for Pacific Centre. I thought about giving you a coupon valid for a massage from me, but I figured maybe some other time, eh?" he replied, looking at me optimistically, kind of like a puppy that's made a mess of your nicest rug but then desperately wants to lick your face and get back in your good backs afterwards.

"Never say never," I replied, managing a genuine grin.

I suppose I couldn't fault the guy for trying.
Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

30. That night, as I was sitting morosely on the couch, tucked into a little ball, contemplating the meaning of life, I unexpectedly heard the buzzer for the apartment go off.

As I hadn't been expecting company, I was most definitely not dressed to receive (although flannel Minnie Mouse pj's do make a certain fashion statement), and I reached for the intercom hesitantly.

I immediately recognized Jonathan's voice as he said, "Hey, I was in the neighbourhood and I took a chance that you might be home. I brought wine if you're up for some company."

Yikes! It was sweet of him to check up on me, but how had the previous women in his life not taught him to give a girl some notice first? That sort of basic training should really be set out somewhere on the first page of the dating manual.

Now that I had some time on my hands, perhaps I should do the female population a favour and try my hand at a dating manual for men? I certainly had first-hand experience with a variety of horrifying topics such as the importance of showering regularly and proper man-scaping techniques. That or a resume, but creating one of the two in the near future was a must!

Then again, as this had been Jonathan's only slip up so far, I could probably cut the guy some slack. Plus, he did mention something about wine...

"Okay, come on up," I replied meekly.

A couple glasses of wine and some good company didn't sound so bad assuming that Jonathan was willing to disregard my current state of sartorial splendour.

I pondered a quick wardrobe change but I didn't like my odds of completing that somewhat taxing task before Jonathan arrived at my door.

As I stood in front of the hallway mirror, looking myself over in my winter sleep-wear with my hair tied back and no makeup anywhere in sight, I couldn't help but wonder what I had done to piss off the universe lately.

Right then, as if on cue, I heard Jonathan knock at the door.

I opened it timidly, half hiding behind the door until he wrapped his arms around me and the intoxicating scent of his cologne immediately causing me to relax as he enveloped me in his arms and kissed my forehead.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't get out of the office in time to see you last night. A file was going off the rails and I didn't get out of the office until early this morning. So, how're you doing? You're looking pretty cute in those pj's," he noted with a cheerful smile as he admired my nightwear.

"Thanks, poverty and depression must agree with me," I responded with a deadpan expression.

"Well, why don't we open this up and you can fill me in on everything that's been going on," he replied, as he presented a bottle of liquid stress relief.

Okay, I realize that that description might have made me sound a bit too partial to my vino, but every study I come across always seems to conclude that a glass or two a day is beneficial to my health and who I am to go against established medical science (or whoever writes those articles), right?

"Sounds good to me," I replied, as I settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket around me as I cocooned myself while I waited for Jonathan to return with the wine.

"Did I mention that I sort of had a job interview while I was out with Elyse last night?" I inquired, warily.

Unfortunately, my memory was still a little fuzzy with respect to some of the finer details of the previous night's events and I wasn't entire sure what details I might have shared in our previous correspondence.

"You're kidding? No, I'm pretty sure that didn't come up but that's fantastic news. What was the job? And how did you manage to get that set up so quickly?" he responded, as he turned to me with a look of incredulity spread across his face.

"I can't really claim any credit for that to be honest. Actually I don't even have a resume put together quite yet," I mumbled under my breath.

Mental note – probably need to get started on one of those.

"Anyway, Elyse knows a guy who started his own publishing company and it turns out he might have an opening for a junior publicity specialist. I'm not exactly sure what a junior publicity specialist does but it's in the field I want to work in and it relates to my degree so it could be a fit," I replied, blushing as I realized that my complete lack of knowledge about my dream job could seem a bit comical to anyone not currently residing inside my head.

"That sounds really promising. How do you think the interview went?" Jonathan asked as he handed me a glass of wine.

That was a question probably best left to someone that could actually remember the interview.

"So, the thing is...Elyse had given me a few drinks to calm me down before she mentioned that she had set up this meeting," I began, as I tried to figure out how to tell the rest of the story while maintaining some semblance of my dignity and not coming off like a raging alcoholic.

"Nigel seemed like a really good guy but, I was a bit tipsy and I'm not really sure if he genuinely thought I might be a good fit for the job or if he was just humouring me and trying to keep me from knocking a drink into his lap...which I didn't!" I concluded, flinging my arm out for emphasis and, in a horribly ironic twist, sending Jonathan's wine flying in a graceful arc that seemed to momentarily hang in mid-air before ultimately ending up all over his rather expensive looking suit and white shirt.

"Frick! I'm so sorry! That story had an awfully quick karmic circle attached to it, didn't it?" I exclaimed, as I ran to grab some soda water.

"No worries, accidents happen," Jonathan replied, stripping off his suit jacket as I started liberally rubbing him down and finding a surprisingly taunt and muscular chest beneath his shirt.

Hmm, perhaps this accident might lead a happy ending after all, I thought to myself as I explored a bit further.

"You're quite a thorough cleaner, aren't you?" Jonathan noted, as I continued rubbing.

"Any job worth doing is a job worth doing well," I replied, with a twinkle in my eye.

"But maybe this would be easier if you just took your shirt off?" I continued, lying blatantly about my motivations.

"I can't argue with that logic," Jonathan replied with a wink as he peeled off his shirt, much to my delight.

Well now, who knew lawyers had time to work out? If only I had aimed that wine with a bit more foresight...

"Is that better?" he asked, grinning at me now.

"No complaints here," I responded as I coyly ran a finger down his chest before he lifted me onto his lap and drew me slowly towards him, his hands in my hair as his lips hungrily reached mine.

Minnie Mouse was quickly discarded in an attempt to bring a little balance to the situation and, as Jonathan explored the curves of my body, caressing me with his hands, I responded by playfully biting his lower lip and trailing a hand lightly along the inside of his thigh.

His scent, fresh and sharp, was intoxicating and causing all of the rational parts of my mind to quickly shut off. I kissed his neck and pushed him back on the couch, my fingers wrapping around the soft strands of his hair, pulling him fervently towards me when, as if I was being snapped back to reality out of a dream, I heard a jingling in the lock.

"You've got to be kidding me," I groaned to Jonathan as I wrapped myself around him to cover up a bit as Elyse strode through the entrance hall and into the living room.

I was quickly starting to understand why none of the characters in Sex and the City had a roommate scripted into their lives. Those steamy scenes that once made for must see TV don't play out quite the same way when there was a shared wall.

"It's okay, the best things in life are worth waiting for, and the preview was fantastic," Jonathan whispered softly to me as he wrapped his arms around me and I could feel him laughing quietly as Elyse saw us, smiled and apologized profusely before beating a hasty retreat back to her bedroom.

Sighing softly to myself as I walked Jonathan to door, I couldn't help thinking that whoever said patience is a virtue clearly had not seen Jonathan without his shirt on.
If you call failures experiments, you can put them in your resume and claim them as achievements – Mason Cooley

31. I arrived at work the next morning feeling restless and on edge. It was the last day I would ever spend in my twenties and, as we had already had a very satisfying ten year relationship, I was reluctant to let the decade go without a fight.

It hadn't helped that Thumper had died a sudden and untimely death shortly after Jonathan's departure. As a result, I was left without any form of respite from my frustrations. Frustrations that were building to a level which were becoming increasingly distracting.

Let's face it, when you start longing for some quality time with your parents' massage chair, you know something's seriously wrong!

With my weekend filled with birthday plans, and my impending date with unemployment looming ever closer, I had vowed to myself that I would do something productive and get a resume put together and sent out to Nigel before the end of the day.

With a little assistance from Google and Veronica, I managed to locate a template that looked appropriate and I got to work.

Sadly, 30 minutes later, as I looked down forlornly at my screen, it was blatantly obvious that my descriptions of 'administrative assistant' and 'bartender' neither took up a whole lot of space on a page nor screamed 'upcoming junior publicity specialist'.

I wonder if going out with a string of socially awkward men and driving Elyse home from the bar on countless occasions counted as volunteer work?

As she reviewed my work while peering over my shoulder, Veronica delicately pointed out, "You know, you've probably got the inside track for the job anyway. I mean, you've already met your boss and had an interview. Your resume might not even matter to him at this point."

Hmm, let's see. It had taken me multiple attempts to successfully shake his hand, he had had to help me into my seat to keep me from falling over and I almost knocked a drink into his lap.

I think I'm going to pop in my grade 12 English award, just to be safe.

"Anything's possible, but I don't want to come across as being overconfident," I replied, trying to stifle a nervous laugh.

Overconfidence was the least of my worries. As I gazed down upon my half page resume, it seemed to scream out 'NOT QUALIFIED'.

Thirty minutes and a couple of font size increases later, I had almost filled up an entire page. After I decided that adding any more filler would, at best, only increase the comedic value of my submission, I took a deep breath and hit the send button on my email.

Not wanting to wait around for Nigel's reply, and freed from any worries about being canned from my current role, I talked Veronica into a quick coffee break.

Having grabbed a table and a couple of lattes, I caught up on the latest happenings with Derek as we idly gazed at the constant parade of men in finely tailored suits wandering past.

Working downtown certainly had its benefits.

"Did I tell you that, after I suggested to Derek that we go someplace we can dance this weekend, he offered to take me to some country bar out in Langley?" Veronica moaned, with an expression on her face which resembled that of a child who just found out Santa isn't real.

"It was sweet of him to come up with the idea, but two stepping definitely wasn't exactly what I had in mind. On the other hand, I bet his butt will look cute in some tight jeans and it's a good excuse to pick up some new boots," she continued with a giggle.

"Way to make lemonade out of that lemon of an idea," I replied.

I wasn't a huge fan of the country bar scene either, but give me a country singer that resembles Keith Urban and, well, that's a whole different story...

"I once picked up a full winter wardrobe for a ski trip and, in that whole weekend, the only time I ended up leaving the chalet was for dinner. But we still managed to stay warm somehow," I continued, grinning as I fondly recalled some of the more heated moments from that weekend.

That had definitely been a win – win situation...

Once we had made our way back to the office, I sat down and peeked at my inbox furtively. Based on my performance during our initial meeting, I wasn't sure if I wanted to see a response from Nigel waiting there for me or not.

As I glanced at the screen, sure enough, I saw a new email sitting there, bold as day.

Nigel had responded.

Taking a deep breath, I opened his message:

Dear Miss Anagram (as an aside, kudos to your parents on the inspired piece of wordplay),

I was elated to see that you decided to apply for a position with me. Please let me know if you would be able to attend an interview next Monday at 5 p.m. at our offices. Wine will not be served but I would still be happy to assist with seating you upon request.

Sincerely,

Nigel Kane

That cheeky British monkey! I suppose that erased any doubts about whether he could tell that I was a tiny bit tipsy the other night. Still, I need to defend my dignity...

Dear Kind Sir,

I am amendable to meeting with you on Monday at 5 p.m. to discuss a position which you feel my sophisticated and diverse suite of skills might be suited to. However, while I appreciate your thoughtfulness and concern with respect to having me safely seated, I have fully recovered from my brief bout of vertigo and your assistance, well intentioned though it may be, will not be required at this juncture.

Sincerely,

Miss Anagram
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come – William Shakespeare

32. Having left work that night finally feeling like I might have a shot at finding meaningful employment, I was in the perfect mood for whatever surprises Elyse had in store for my birthday celebration that night.

I was relatively confident that two days would be enough time for me to regain my sobriety prior to my interview Monday afternoon as showing up hung over for my interview and providing Nigel with the opportunity to send me another sassy email was not an option.

Elyse had kept me completely in the dark about our plans for the night and she had sworn all my friends to secrecy; telling me only to be ready to go at 7 p.m. that night.

While I was a little hesitant to leave things completely in her hands, I figured that this was unquestionably her area of expertise. One way or another, I was certain it would be a memorable night.

After slipping (struggling mightily for the better part of 10 minutes to squeeze myself) into a dress that had required me to eat sensibly (starve myself) since Boxing Day, I made it downstairs just as a limo was pulling up.

As the driver held open the door for me, I could see Elyse, Veronica and the rest of my ladies were already inside and they had Fun's 'We are young' cranked up in my honour as I climbed inside.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

The reminder of my imminent demographic shift may have led to a brief panic attack, but I managed to squelch it without any tears being shed.

Far too much effort had gone into doing my makeup to ruin it now.

As I was greeted by everyone, I unexpectedly spotted my best friend from back home in Victoria, Paige, squeezed in next to Elyse.

Paige's last name was Turner and, as our parents were also good friends, we both had suspicions that our names were the outcome of some horrible contest gone wrong between our parents.

"I can't believe you made it out for this!" I exclaimed with an elated squeal. "I thought you said that you had to work this weekend?"

After working for a couple of years as an elementary school teacher, Paige had decided that kids must be cuter at an earlier age than the ones she was dealing with and she had gone back to school to become an obstetrician.

I was immensely proud of her for having the guts to start over and go back to school, but she had barely had time to return my calls since she had started her residency this year.

"Well, you only turn 30 once and I told my supervisor that, for every 100 births I celebrate, at least one of them has to involve adults and alcohol. I left it up to him whether he wanted that to take place at the hospital or not," she replied with a mischievous grin.

"Hey, no predictions on where any of us are going to end up tonight, it's bad voodoo," Elyse interjected, saucily, as she passed out shots of tequila.

"To Anna's last night in her twenties. Let's make it memorable!" Elyse bellowed as we all raised our glasses.

If my previous birthday celebrations with Elyse were anything to go by, the chances of tonight being memorable, and/or not remembered at all were both highly probable outcomes. I hadn't decided which was preferable just yet.

Sigh, goodbye twenties; we had a good run. I'm definitely going to miss ya. Bring on middle age and my minivan.

Hmm, I wonder if I still qualify for a guest pass as long as Jonathan has a paid up membership?

Oh wait! Frick, does this mean I'm about to become a cougar?!
The secret to eternal youth is arrested development – Alice Roosevelt Longworth

33. Having survived a couple of near melt downs in the limo, we miraculously arrived at dinner with my makeup still fully intact.

Elyse had scoped out a new restaurant in Gastown that had opened to rave reviews for its eclectic fondue offerings called La Fon Dont.

I wasn't convinced that cheese covered rattlesnake was going to be all that tasty, but Elyse had reasoned, and likely sensibly so, that having some bread and cheese in us might be helpful as the night progressed.

Plus, I had yet to discover anything in life that didn't taste better after being dipped in hot, melted chocolate.

After ordering up drinks and checking out the menu, we collectively decided that fondued shrimp and lobster sounded pretty delicious but shark and frog logs; decidedly less so.

While we were waiting to put our order in, birthday gifts started to magically appear in front of me. I had been dreading this moment for days, as I knew all too well how creative my friends could be, and I was sure that such a monumental event would bring out their best.

A few minutes later, sitting amidst a pile of wrapping paper carnage, I had uncovered a myriad of presents which included the following: a CD of the top thirty songs from 1982; a t-shirt that was emblazoned with 'older than dirt, but the soil is still fertile'; a 'dirty thirty' hat; and a cougar patterned bra and underwear set that had 'rawr' stitched on the back of the panties.

As I was modelling the hat for a picture which I suspected was going to be uploaded straight onto Facebook, Elyse stared at me with a horrified expression on her face.

"Babe, you're on fire!" she cried.

"Well, I guess this color does sort of work for me," I replied, as I tilted my head jauntily, playing it up a bit.

"No, you're literally on fire!" Elyse exclaimed, pointing at the wrapping paper next to my hand that I appeared to have nudged into the path of one of the candles on the table.

Paige, seated next to me, quickly grabbed a glass of water of the table and doused the flames in one smooth motion.

"I had to practically beg to escape being stuck in a hospital this weekend. There's no way I'm letting you drag me back to visit another one," she noted with a grin as she gave me a quick hug.

Our waitress, having seen the incident from across the room, rushed over and, after checking to make sure that everyone was okay and that no damage had been done, exclaimed, "Fon Dont rule number 1; the only thing that goes over a flame here is the food," she exclaimed with a relieved smile.

"Never let it be said that Anna can't light up a room," Veronica added, drawing laughs from the rest of the table which only grew louder as Paige none too discretely pushed the candles on our side of the table out of my reach.

"I've heard that women get fierier in their thirties. It's not my fault, it's my hormones. It'll eventually happen to all of you too," I countered, sarcastically.

First, I light a menu on fire with Jonathan, and now this. I guess I can cross firefighter off my list of potential careers.

It was bad enough that I was turning thrity. Showing up on the front page of the Vancouver Sun with a picture of me in my 'dirty thirty' hat having burned down one of the city's newest eateries would have really been the icing on the proverbial birthday cake.

Here's hoping that there was a purse-sized fire extinguisher somewhere in this pile of presents, because apparently I couldn't be trusted around a flame.

"Speaking of raging hormones, Elyse tells me that you have a new man in your life?" Paige asked, clearly eager to hear more.

Yeah, and if he didn't put out soon, these raging hormones were going to become absolutely unbearable! In this age of equality, guys are not the only ones that should be able to demand a little b-day lovin'.

"That's true; we've been attached to each other since the first moment we met. Not that I gave him much choice about it," I replied with a chuckle.

"I heard about the car accident. How hard did you hit this guy?" Paige asked with a wink as I rolled my eyes at her in lieu of a response.

"So, do you know what he has planned for your birthday?" Paige continued.

"Yes, it's actually a pretty incredible idea. I don't know how he came up with it, but Jonathan found this place where I'll be able design my own custom made shoes. I'm so excited! This has got to be the best present that I could imagine," I replied enthusiastically, as my mind briefly wandered to images of various shoes that I had printed off in preparation for tomorrow.

"You're kidding? I don't think I've heard of anything like that before. That's a fabulous idea though. If I ever find time to fit a guy into my life, I'm definitely going to find a way to slide that idea into a conversation," Paige replied, wistfully.

"As a single doctor, aren't you pretty much in the best position possible to meet someone, you know, like other single doctors?" I responded, thinking that if things ever went sideways with Jonathan, I should really go visit Paige and take a more active interest in her career.

"I don't know, I think one of the upsides of being a doctor is that it lets you really broaden your horizons when it comes to dating. I know doctors are supposed to be every girl's dream, but I can't picture it being all sunshine and roses with any of the ones I know. As long as I connect with someone and it's easy and real, I'm a happy camper no matter what he does for a living," she replied, putting a damper on that dream.

"Of course, it doesn't hurt if he has a rockin' bod too," she continued with a giggle.

A statement which led to heads bobbing in unanimous agreement as our fondue pots and assorted accompaniments arrived with a flourish.

"Shouldn't there be some sort of fire safety training before we attempt this?" Veronica joked, as our waitress lit the flame under the pot nearest to me.

Marissa, a statuesque blonde whom I had met while bartending, and who had since moved on to become a flight attendant, took the cue and jumped up, saying "Everyone, please note your nearest emergency exits are located here and here," as she exaggeratedly gestured with her arms towards the doors while maintaining a profoundly serious expression on her face until we all started to crack up.

"If we should have to evacuate for any reason, you can follow me to the door where I will be putting the adage of 'women and children first' into practice," she continued.

"What's the emergency protocol for getting cheese off of silk?" Veronica inquired sheepishly, as she tried to peel a wayward snippet of Emmenthaler off her dress.

"I'm not really sure how you get it off, but I'm pretty sure you just committed a major fashion fon-don't," I retorted, giggling as I gave her arm a quick squeeze and then motioned our waitress over for advice.

I polished off another glass of wine as I watched Elyse and Paige fencing with their fondue works and I thought to myself, even though this wasn't precisely the version of wine and cheese that I thought we might be starting off the night with, it was turning out to be a pretty good choice.

That being said, I was still a bit nervous that nobody had been willing to divulge our plans for the rest of the night. I had been doing my best to weasel a hint out of Elyse all week, but unfortunately that girl was an impregnable fortress when it came to keeping secrets.

Ah well, nothing I could do about it now. Bring on another bottle of vino!
There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness – Friedrich Nietzsche

34. A few hours (and bottles of wine) later, everyone at the table had each consumed at least a week's worth of carbs and we were all itching to head out to the next spot on the night's programme.

I was still completely in the dark as to what the next destination was, but the excitement emanating from my friends was contagious as we all piled back into the limo.

"So... is anyone going to spill the beans?" I asked, as I gazed about at a row of grinning faces.

"Well, I guess we're close enough now that it won't be spoiling the surprise," Elyse responded. "We're heading to Mystique but that's all I'm telling you for now," she continued, raising my curiosity as to what she had in store for me.

Mystique had opened up a few months ago to enthusiastic reviews and I had heard that it was still drawing huge crowds every weekend. I knew that Elyse had already been there a few times, but I had yet to check it out in person.

I had been to more than my share of clubs in the past and I was feeling pretty confident that there wasn't much that could surprise me as we pulled up to the door.

As I had grown accustomed to on a night out with Elyse, she waived at the doormen as we hopped out and the line magically parted in front of us. We quickly hustled inside as jeers rained down on us from the fairly large crowd of people still trapped in the line.

Looking around inside, I could see why the place had been generating a positive buzz.

Attention had obviously been paid to the décor, and the massive, elevated, two story dance floor was reminiscent of some of the more flamboyant clubs that Elyse had introduced me to on our girls' trip to Spain a couple of years ago.

Now if only she could round us up a few guys that moved like the men in Ibiza...

I was about to make a beeline for the bar when Elyse grabbed me by the arm and led our whole group over to a side room which had been cordoned off behind a velvet rope.

"No need to worry about getting drinks tonight. We've got V.I.P. treatment for the rest of the evening," Elyse said to me as I glanced around the room.

As I took in the large, half-moon shaped table facing its own small dance floor, I couldn't help thinking that the room was a bit large just for our group...

A few minutes later, after the arrival of our drinks, I noticed Elyse surreptitiously leaving the room. However, my martini quickly captured my full attention and I didn't think anything further of it.

I also got a bit distracted by a story Marissa was telling about a couple that had snuck into a washroom to join the mile high club on a red-eye flight, but had somehow popped open the lock somewhere in the course of their amorous activities and subsequently spilled out into the aisle whilst in a very compromising state.

While I was all for making the most of interesting locales when traveling, I've always desperately tried to avoid in-flight washroom use, solo or otherwise.

Enjoying a little one-on-one time with the right person underneath a roaring waterfall on a beautiful Hawaiian island... definitely a turn on.

Being bent over a sink while plugging one's nose and hoping and praying that nobody was standing outside listening... not so much.

My thoughts briefly wandered as Jonathan made an appearance in my musings about Hawaii, which made for some pretty pleasurable musings until Veronica broke my reverie and I was drawn into a conversation with herself and Paige about what she should wear for her date with Derek to the country bar the following night.

As a result, I found myself momentarily oblivious to anything that was going on elsewhere in the room, and I was a bit startled when the beat from "I'm Too Sexy" started up over the room's sound system.

I quickly glanced around, having a pretty good idea what was about to take place and, sure enough, a tall, chiselled guy with an absolutely striking face that look like it had been carved from a chunk of granite had entered the room wearing a mock tux outfit.

This was easily going to be one of my best presents of the night.

Amidst a barrage of catcalls and whistling from my seriously intoxicated entourage, our entertainment slowly started moving his pelvis to the beat, much to the delight of his entire audience.

I leaned over towards Elyse to thank her for her thoughtful present, but I stopped short when I noticed that she was ignoring the performance and instead had her eyes glued to the door.

Following her gaze, I spotted Sam standing just inside the door, motioning intently to Elyse.

Giving my arm a quick squeeze, she whispered, "I'm so sorry, I have no idea what he's doing here, but I'll be right back," as she quickly got up and made her way towards Sam.

I sat back, trying to enjoy the performance, but my eyes kept darting back to the door where Elyse and Sam seemed to be engaged in a heated discussion, but their hushed whispers weren't carrying far enough to make out what the issue was over the deafening beat.

While I didn't have a clue what they were discussing, it was clear from the way Elyse was punctuating her sentences with her hands that she wasn't happy and their conversation came to an abrupt end just as our entertainment was starting to heat up.

Elyse gave Sam a firm shove on the shoulder before he turned on his heel and left the room and Elyse discretely returned to her seat.

"Are you alright?" I whispered to her as discretely as possibly given the booming bass line of the soundtrack.

I was worried for her as I could see that Elyse's face had flushed to a scarlet red and her whole body was trembling.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I'm so sorry that he couldn't let that wait for another time. But don't worry, tonight's your night," she replied, as she flashed me a fake smile in an attempt to mollify my concern.

As we both turned back to the show, the performer came up to the table and lifted me out of my seat and placed me on the front edge of the table to the raucous cheers of my girls.

As the music changed over to "You Sexy Thing," the performance was starting to heat up; my dancer's glistening, rock hard chest was inches from my face as he grinded against the table from between my legs.

Due to the increasingly personal nature of the performance, I had become a tiny bit pre-occupied and I didn't even notice as Sam re-entered the room, ripping off his shirt as he strode up to our table, taking his place right next to my dancer, directly in front of Elyse.

Then, much to the delight of the rest of the girls, who were now deliriously encouraging both men, he joined in the performance; his gaze never leaving Elyse's eyes as he hoisted her up onto the edge of the table next to me.

My dancer, taking note of the unusual development, appeared to take Sam's entrance as a personal affront to his talents and he quickly took his performance up a notch; his slacks disappearing with a flourish as the cheers and whistling around me grew louder.

Sam was apparently unperturbed by that development as he quickly responded to match my dancer's state of attire and, in doing so, revealed that incredible butt that I had heard so much about from Elyse in the past.

I glanced over at Elyse, curious as to how she was handling the unexpected turn of events.

Her eyes were locked on Sam but her face was an inscrutable mask.

As I turned my attention back to the performance, Sam and my performer swivelled to face each other as they started playing off the other's performances, neither willing to be outdone by the other as the moves and thrusts became increasingly outlandish with each passing second.

I'll admit, it wasn't exactly a duel to the death that I was witnessing but, judging by the squeals of delight all around me, it was definitely causing the estrogen levels in the room to spike to a dangerous level.

After the performance reached its climax with two synchronized pelvic thrusts that left my girls and I roaring, my dancer stepped back to bow to his appreciative audience; catching a pair of panties that appeared to come from the direction of Paige's seat before using them to mop the sweat from his glistening chest.

Sam, on the other hand, had walked straight up to Elyse, picked her up in his arms and, the last we saw of them, Elyse had her legs wrapped around Sam's torso; their lips locked as they disappeared out the door to a standing ovation for Sam's efforts.

Performing a strip tease in front of a crowd of wildly intoxicated women to win back the love of your life might not have been straight out of any classic love stories, but you certainly couldn't question where the guy's heart was at.
I've had a wonderful time, but this wasn't it – Groucho Marx

35. Mmm, I don't know how Jonathan managed to end up next to me in my bed, but whatever he was doing under the sheets felt absolutely amazing! It was like he was making my whole body vibrate.

Wow, there it goes again. That sensation was so intense! I could practically feel the whole bed shaking. What on earth was he doing down there?

Wait a second, what is that buzzing sound and why is it getting louder?

Oh no, no, no, don't stop, it can't be...

"Hey Mom," I moaned, trying my best to contain my disappointment at being woken from what had been a very satisfying dream.

The lower half of my body was still pulsating as I gingerly rubbed the sleep out of my eyes in an attempt to keep my hands busy.

For some unfathomable reason, they desperately seemed to want to disappear below the sheets to continue things where my dream had left off.

The next time I go out for the night, I definitely need to remember to turn my phone off.

As I slowly made my way back towards consciousness, I became acutely aware of an intense burning sensation in my eyes.

As if this conversation wasn't going to be painful enough as it was, I eventually emerged far enough out of my stupor to realize that my contacts and I had not parted company last night and they were now caked to my corneas.

"Happy birthday sweetie!" my mum's impossibly enthusiastic voice reaching my ears at a decibel level that made every fibre of my dreadfully dehydrated body wince in agony.

"Did you get up to anything fun with your friends last night?" she inquired innocently, clearly unable to hear the ringing that was echoing through my head with every word she uttered.

Hmm, what parts of my night would be best to tell my mum about?

Maybe I could start with the fact that I nearly burnt down another restaurant and that I was beginning to question at what point a person was officially considered an arsonist.

Or perhaps I could instead go into detail about how I spent the latter part of my evening inches away from the grinding pelvis of a nearly naked man who just so happened to be joined by the equally clothing impaired boyfriend of my best friend.

It's possible that my night had gotten a bit more PG from there, but if it had, my memory had apparently decided to sweep it aside in the tidal wave of shots and martinis I had ingested because I really couldn't recall a thing after Sam had carried Elyse out of the room.

"Well, Elyse, Veronica and a few other friends took me out for dinner and drinks. Paige even managed to get a couple of days off so that she could be there," I replied, choosing my words carefully as I gazed around at the heap of clothes on my floor before taking a quick peek under the sheets in an attempt to confirm that, whatever had happened last night, I wasn't going to have any more unpleasant surprises this morning.

Not noticing any unwanted additions to my life, I breathed an audible sigh of relief and pulled the blankets up over my head in an effort to block out the sunlight that was streaming into my room and searing my dry, blurry retinas.

"That's so sweet of Paige to make it out there for you. Make sure you say hi for me. Have you been out for a birthday breakfast yet?" my mum continued, obviously oblivious to the requisite recovery period required after a girl's night out.

Flipping my phone around for a second, I checked the time and groaned "Mum, it's barely 9 o'clock. I haven't quite made it outside yet," I replied as civilly as possible, biting back the urge to mention to her that I would have been perfectly content to sleep well into the afternoon and that the only reason I was getting out of bed today at all today was my upcoming attempt to become the next Jimmy Choo.

"Well, don't let the day get away from you. You only get one birthday a year, you know," my mum responded, completely unaware of the irony of her comment.

"Hold on a second, your dad wants to say hi too."

As I collapsed back onto my pillow, struggling to stay awake, I couldn't help thinking that if I had to go through this more than once a year, I wasn't sure that I'd be sufficiently recovered in time to survive the next one.

"Hey honey, how's it feel to be thirty?" my dad's chipper voice popped onto the line and jolted me back to semi-consciousness.

Like I got hit by a truck, but thanks for reminding me.

"Well, it really doesn't feel that different from twenty-nine just yet, so I guess so far so good," I responded with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.

That was probably at least half-true. My splitting headache and queasy stomach felt no different from anything that I had experienced after my previous nights out with Elyse.

"Your mum and I are heading down to the fish market today, but I just wanted to remind you, you're not getting older, you're just getting wiser," my dad said before letting me go.

As I hung up, I felt an ominous sensation insidiously churning my stomach, sending the older and wiser version of me running for the washroom as quick as my wobbly legs would let me. Perhaps the wiser part takes a few days to kick in?

As it turns out, the experience of turning 30 really was not all that different than turning 19. Who knew?
To be brave is to love someone unconditionally, without expecting anything in return. To just give. That takes courage because we don't want to fall on our faces or leave ourselves open to hurt – Madonna

36. After a few more blissful hours of unconsciousness, I finally managed to summon the willpower required to crawl out of bed and stumble to the shower where I quickly cranked up the heat and attempted to unglue my contacts from my corneas.

I'm guessing extreme, alcohol induced, dehydration wasn't something that they warn you about on the package of daily use contacts, but they really should!

Then again, even if such a warning was sitting there in big, bold letters, I was currently in no shape to read it.

An hour and a half later, I emerged from the bathroom feeling far closer to human than I had upon entering and I was hoping that my hours long ordeal had left me with a fresh, easy, I just rolled out of bed and naturally look this good, sort of look.

I could add something trite about how if guys only knew the lengths women go to in order to look good for them, but every guy that I have been in a relationship with has given me grief about the process as he sat in front of the TV, beer in hand, wondering how much longer I was going to take.

If they know that we're putting in all this work to look good for them, shouldn't they either show a little appreciation or, at a minimum, keep their mouths shut while the transformation is occurring?

I mean, how is it we let them get away with body hair sprouting from every orifice, eyebrows so bushy that they almost look like they need a good combing or fingernails so unkempt that they look like they belong to a caveman?

I'm betting that if women the world over went on strike and took a few weeks off from shaving, waxing, scrubbing and plucking, there would be a major attitude shift in the male population once the situation started to get hairy.

As I made my way into the kitchen to grab a bite to eat, determined not to let my energy level wane during my shoe design experience, I unexpectedly came across Sam and Elyse passed out together on the couch.

Letting my gaze momentarily wander to the spectacular view of Sam's naked derrière on the couch for just a second, I had to admit to myself that some men probably required less maintenance work than others.

As I was rummaging through the refrigerator shelves, searching for anything that might help to balance out last night's cheese extravaganza, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Startled, I whirled around and caught Elyse grinning at me like a Cheshire cat.

"You're looking awfully chipper today," I whispered, doing my best not to wake Sam.

"So things went well last night? I don't remember much of anything after he carried you out of the room," I admitted to her, somewhat shamefully.

"Seriously? Wow, that's so unlike you. I guess that must mean that I put together a decent birthday celebration then, huh?" Elyse responded with a huge smile, seemingly quite pleased with herself.

When her comment failed to draw a response beyond my gaze being cast downward in embarrassment, she continued, saying "It was pretty hard not to be swayed by Sam's performance. I've never had a guy do anything close to something like that for me before. We didn't exactly get around to talking much last night though," she said with a giggle.

"I'm shocked," I replied, doing my best to feign a look of surprise.

"Yeah, okay, point taken. But I think it was good just to remind myself that the spark's still there and I guess we'll see what happens when he wakes up," Elyse responded, gazing longingly at Sam's lifeless form on the couch.

"You can't ever tell Sam I told you this, but I was fooling around with a random a few nights ago and, when he tried to get all cuddly with me, it was literally making my skin crawl! I made up some excuse and got the hell out of there ASAP but, when I got home, I couldn't sleep. I kept remembering how good it felt lying in Sam's arms. It has always just felt right being around him, no matter what the situation was, you know?" Elyse continued, still whispering quietly.

Based on personal experience, I was having a tough time relating, but I think I got the gist of what she meant based on how I felt every time Jonathan wrapped his arms around me.

"So, do you think you might give him a chance at something exclusive?" I inquired delicately, not wanting her to feel like I was putting her on the spot.

As long as I had known her, Elyse has always treated the idea of commitment with much the same trepidation as a puppy that has soiled the fancy rug and now had to face the music.

She was skittish in the extreme and anytime someone had applied any sort of pressure on her for a commitment, it had always lead to one of those cartoon-like puffs of smoke appearing where Elyse had been a second ago while she high tailed it for the horizon.

"I don't know. I'm thinking that giving him that chance is probably better than any alternative I can think of. Besides, let's face it, if there was something better out there, you would think I would have found it by now, right?" Elyse responded with a shrug of her shoulders.

I certainly couldn't argue with that point. I had never met anyone that had explored her dating options as thoroughly or as vigorously as Elyse had.

Speaking of dates with potential, my phone had started vibrating on the counter as Elyse was finishing her thought.

Jonathan had been skating through our relationship with virtually no visible faults thus far, but he might need a little training when it came to timeliness.

No man needs to be right on time, every time. His penchant for punctuality was a bit disconcerting. Also, timeliness, as every boss I had previously worked for could attest, was not my best quality.

However, since he was about to whisk me away to a place that that had the potential to make one of my dreams come true, I could probably forgive him just this once.

I hurriedly grabbed a banana from the fridge, wished Elyse luck with Sam, and hopped out the door feeling very much like a little kid at Christmas whilst visions of stilettos danced in my head.
Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world – Marilyn Monroe

37. My feet felt like they were barely skimming the ground as I hustled out to Jonathan's car. Not a bad thing when you were on your way to design your own shoes!

Jonathan was waiting for me next to his car, holding my door open, and, as we sank into an unexpectedly ardent kiss, shoes quickly moved down a notch on my priority list.

It had been a few days since I had seen him, and the feel of his arms around me again had set the butterflies in my stomach in motion.

Having wasted way too much time hoping for some sort of spark to develop with Ricky and some of the other boys that I had crossed paths with, I had made a conscious decision to appreciate this sensation to its fullest whenever I was lucky enough to come across it.

"I meant to wish you a happy birthday, but I guess I got a little distracted there," Jonathan said to me with a sheepish grin, our faces still inches apart as we caught our breath.

"It's okay, you've still got half a day to make it up to me," I replied playfully as I reached my hand behind his neck and gently pulled his head down to my lips so that we could continue to tease each other in a more direct fashion.

When we finally separated, Jonathan replied, "Well then, how about I start with this," as he pulled a small, beautifully wrapped package out of his coat pocket and handed it to me.

"I thought the shoe design experience was my present?" I responded, staring at him incredulously as my fingers worked the wrapping paper.

Even before I had finished unwrapping the package, I was pretty confident that this was going to be a huge step up from last year's trip to a Canucks game, complete with my ex's name on the back of the jersey he gave me.

While I love watching jacked guys in tight hockey shorts as much as the next girl, it was a nice change to have a guy think about what I might actually want for once.

As the wrapping paper fell away, I found myself face-to-face with every girl's favourite little blue box for the first time in my deprived, under-indulged, life.

Glancing up at Jonathan with a look of astonishment on my face, I opened up the box and slowly pulled out a gorgeous white gold necklace with a sterling silver pendant that looked similar to a hollowed out yin and yang symbol. On closer inspection, I noticed that it even had a small diamond imbedded in the middle of one of the swirls.

"You know, you were already way ahead of the curve with the shoe design idea. You really didn't need to get me anything else but, thank you, this is beautiful," I responded softly, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed as Jonathan slipped it around my neck and kissed me tenderly.

"Well, if I mess up somewhere down the road, it's best if I've accumulated some relationship capital along the way, right?" he replied cheerfully, his arms wrapped around me as I buried my head against him while I tried my best to regain my composure.

At some point I was going to have to find out who trained this guy and send her a thank you card. Better yet, I needed to find out what her teaching methodology was because all of the pupils that had graduated from my classroom had received failing grades.

"Don't get too comfortable just yet. We've still got to chat about your constant need to be right on time every time I see you. That might not fly with me long term mister," I countered, doing my best to keep the conversation light and playful.

I imagine that any water works I produced right after getting such an exquisite present could be severely misinterpreted and I was still way too excited about designing my shoes to delay things by having to re-apply my mascara.

"Hmm, well, we are almost going to be late for your shoe design session if that makes you feel better?"

"Okay, in the car, now!" I retorted cheekily, pointing animatedly towards the driver's seat before getting my own butt in gear.

Well played Mr. Hunter. Andiamo! World, get ready for Anagram shoes!
A woman can carry a bag, but it is the shoe that carries the woman – Christian Louboutin

38. After an agonizing ten-minute drive, during which the level of anticipation had me practically bouncing off the roof of Jonathan's car, we finally pulled to a halt in front of a funky, modern, two storey on West Fourth Avenue.

Upon entering, we were greeted at the door by a dapper Italian gentleman, likely somewhere north of 50, but with a visible spring in his step as he ushered us inside whilst amiably chatting with us.

"You must be Anna," he noted with a smile as he warmly shook hands with each of us.

"My name is Ermanno and I'll be assisting you with the design process today. I've been told by Jonathan that you have been doing some research in preparation?"

Are you kidding me? I've been preparing for this moment since the first time I tried on a pair of my mum's pumps, teetered precariously towards a mirror, and looked down in awe at the transformation that my feet had undergone.

"Well, I might have jotted down a couple of ideas that I thought could be fun," I replied modestly as I clutched my sketch book and print outs.

"Excellent! It's always helpful if a client has a few ideas about what he or she might want ahead of time. Otherwise, the number of choices can be a bit overwhelming. Why don't we sit down and take a look at what you brought with you," Ermanno continued encouragingly as he guided us into a cozy sitting room with what appeared to be samples of every possible shoe type imaginable stored neatly on an array of shelves built into the walls of the room.

Beyonce's 'New Shoes' was playing in my head as I slowly twirled around the room in wonderment, letting my gaze wander as I took in the magnificent sight.

As I finally sat down at a circular table covered with binder upon binder of shoe designs, I couldn't help wondering to myself if this is what the closets in heaven might look like.

After several blissful hours of wading through designs, samples and fabrics, all of which seemed to flash by in an instant, Ermanno and I were convinced that we had captured the essence of what I was looking for.

We had decided on a black suede heel with purple accents based on a gorgeous Ralph Lauren design, but I had designed the straps and the lower cage myself, based on my own sketches and samples that Ermanno had provided.

The shoe itself would be based on an exact mould of my foot and ankle for a perfect, painless fit.

By the time we had completed the process and I was staring at a sketch of our finished product on Ermanno's iPad, I was convinced that it would really be in Ralph's best interest to drop me a line about having me help him craft his 2017 line.

As we moved on to the next step of the process which was creating a mould of my foot by essentially dipping my foot in a vat of thick goo, I couldn't help thinking that Cinderella got off awfully easy with her fairy Godmother just waiving her wand around.

This process was more akin to bibbidi bobbidi goo.

Once Ermanno had finally completed the mould, he disappeared into another room to let it set and he left Jonathan and I with a bucket of warm water and soap to wash off my leg.

Thankfully, Jonathan took the lead; gently soaping my legs as his strong hands massaged my aching calves. After a few passes down my legs, the warm, moist cloth somewhat unexpectedly started to glide a bit further north and I quickly realized that perhaps this goo had its advantages after all.

"Feels like quite a sticky situation down there," I mumbled as I silently commended myself for having had the foresight to wear a skirt for our excursion.

"It's certainly starting to feel that way," Jonathan countered, grinning up at me as his hand continued its steady climb north.

"I might have to get you pretty moist to properly remedy this issue," he continued playfully, as his fingers reached their destination.

"Whatever it takes to get the job done, I'm in your hands. But it feels like you're doing a pretty good job of handling things so far," I replied huskily, my breath coming a bit quicker as I arched my back.

Then, out of nowhere, Ermanno rapped on the door. "How are things coming along?" he inquired, politely.

"It's going quite well. I'm almost done!" I replied, with far more enthusiasm than I had originally intended.

"Please let me know if I can be of assistance," he responded, oblivious to the irony of his offer coming at that particular moment.

"Thanks, but Jonathan's doing an excellent job for now. Should just be another minute or so," I replied, desperately attempting to modulate my voice as Jonathan's fingers continued to masterfully massage me.

"Or sooner," I moaned softly under my breath, clenching my hands into fists involuntarily as my muscles started to contract and spasm; a warm wave of endorphins enveloping my body as I grabbed Jonathan's hand and held it firmly against me.

"All things considered, you're not too shabby at the whole gift giving thing," I noted a few moments later, after I had had a chance to catch my breath.

"I do aim to please," Jonathan replied with a grin as he lifted me skyward for a long kiss that left me lightheaded.

After I had properly cleaned myself up, we made our way back to the reception area where Ermanno walked us through the timeline for completing the shoes and booked me in for a final fitting and delivery.

As he walked as to the door, he asked innocently, "Was the experience everything you had hoped for?"

"I think I can honestly say that it was everything that I was hoping for and then some," I replied ecstatically, as I gave Jonathan's hand a squeeze.

Definitely my best birthday present ever!
He was a bold man that first ate an oyster – Jonathan Swift

39. After we left Ermanno's shop, I parked myself in Jonathan's car with a contented sigh, basking in the warm afterglow of my shoe design experience and other related activities as Jonathan whisked us off to dinner.

"I hope that with all the excitement you managed to work up an appetite for dinner," Jonathan inquired, as he grasped my hand and gave it a squeeze.

There was no question that I had worked up a hunger, but it was only tangentially related to anything I might want to eat.

"I can't deny that there is a certain hunger that's been building up inside me," I replied, shooting him a coy smile and letting him interpret it as he wished.

"You don't say? Hopefully I can take care of that for you pretty soon. I would hate to leave you wanting for anything on your birthday," Jonathan replied, feigning innocence.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at a cute little restaurant overlooking the harbour at Horseshoe Bay.

Not that I'm a big believer in serendipity (okay, maybe just a little bit) but, as we strolled inside, arm in arm, I discovered that we just so happened to be dining at an oyster bar that night.

How very appropriate...

As we were being seated, I made sure that I discretely placed myself as far away from the candle as possible.

Two incidents and maybe you can write it off as just being unlucky and/or a little klutzy. Three times and restaurants might start putting posters of me up in their windows.

After our wine had arrived, Jonathan raised his glass to me, saying, "Here's to your parents for raising an incredible woman. I'm totally indebted to them for their work. And to you Anna; not only do I go home with pain in my cheeks from laughing so hard every time that I'm with you, but you're also living proof that age is just a number," he concluded, his eyes shimmering vibrantly in the candlelight as he spoke.

I was sure that he was blatantly lying about that last part, but he had managed to make it all sound sincere and it was a pretty nice to hear on one's b-day, white lie or not.

Thank goodness we were just on our first glass of wine when he said it though, because I had been having a bit of trouble holding it together while he had been speaking.

Why is it that celebrating my birth only seems to remind me that I'm yet another year closer to the grand finale? I really think that the only time a girl should be reminded of her age is when something amazing happens in her life.

For instance: "Wow, you just married the man of your dreams and you're only 31!"

Totally acceptable.

Or: "What adorable twins; such a perfect thirty-third birthday present!"

You've got twins; your age, and pretty much everything else in the world, is now irrelevant.

However: "Hey, you're a decade older with absolutely nothing to show for it. Let's go celebrate!"

Far less pleasant.

That being said, Jonathan had done pretty much everything one could ask to make today bearable and then some, so I decided to focus my attention on that instead.

"I hope you're a fan of oysters. I haven't been here before but I've heard great things about the food," Jonathan mentioned, as we perused the menu.

"I've only had them a couple of times before to be honest, but I'm in the perfect mood to given them another try," I responded, as I overtly ran my toes up the inside of his leg.

"That Buck-a-Shuck mystery oyster special sounds dangerous," Jonathan replied, as he responded in kind; his foot meandering discretely up the back of my calf under the cover of the table cloth.

"Yes, I don't think I want to be putting anything raw in my mouth unless I know where it's coming from. But are you interested in tasting the Fanny Bottom Bay? The menu says it has a smooth texture and a sweet finish. The description alone is whetting my appetite," I retorted as my foot climbed higher, causing Jonathan to inhale sharply and briefly close his eyes.

"That might go well with a serving of Ram Island. Its size plays a role in its appeal as it's supposedly an enormous muscle," he countered, lowering his menu to grin mischievously at me as he drew two of his toes down the back of my thigh, sending shivers down my spine.

"Well, it's really all about whether or not it can satisfy my hunger and hit the right spot...on my palate but, assuming it can, then I suppose the bigger the better, right?"

My well timed pause had come just as my toes had reached their mark, causing Jonathan to noticeably squirm in his chair as our waiter approached.

"So, have the two of you had a chance to decide what you're in the mood for tonight?" he inquired, benignly.

"I think we know what direction we're heading in at least," Jonathan replied, keeping his expression stoic.

"Yes, I'm in the mood for a serving of Ram Island and I believe he'll be trying out the Fanny Bottom Bay," I replied, as I attempted, with less success that I would have liked, to keep a straight face.

After our waiter had left with our orders, I excused myself to freshen up a bit as the ordeal of ordering had left me a feeling a bit hot under the collar.

And perhaps a few other places as well...

Our oysters had already arrived by the time I made my way back to the table and, between all of our banter and the rest of the day's events; we had each apparently worked up quite a healthy appetite as we both enthusiastically dove into our meals.

"Wow, the description in the menu wasn't wrong. These definitely are a mouthful," I noted after gulping down what was indeed a very large oyster.

Hmm, it was tasty enough but was it normal for oysters to smell like this? Well, I suppose it is seafood after all...

"It doesn't look like the size is causing you any issues though," Jonathan replied with a wry grin spread across his face.

"Aren't you a saucy boy today, Mr. Hunter? Speaking of sauce, how is the Fanny Bottom Bay treating you? Is the finish everything you were hoping for?"

"The finish is very satisfying thanks, and it's gratifying to know that you take such a keen interest in that sort of thing," Jonathan countered, pausing momentarily before he continued, "So, I haven't had a lot of experience with oysters, but do you notice a bit of an odd smell coming emanating from yours?" he inquired, as we each took a whiff of our plates.

"I'm not really a seafood connoisseur either, but mine do smell a bit funky," I responded as I struggled to fight off a nervous twinge in my nether regions. "But, I guess a lot of seafood does normally have a bit of an aroma to it, right?" I asked with an optimistic smile as I gazed at him, hoping for a bit of reassurance but only getting a nervous eyebrow raise in return.

We both hesitantly continued with the meal but we managed to make it through desert without feeling any ill effects and, by that point, I had assumed that oysters must just generally smell a bit fishy.

Things were progressing nicely on the drive home as we were flirting non-stop and stealing quick kisses at every red light while Jonathan's hand did a slow climb up my thigh.

Having almost arrived back at my apartment, I was about to invite Jonathan upstairs for a drink when I felt an urgent rumbling in my lower intestines that almost immediately had my skin glistening with sweat.

Looking up at Jonathan with a pained expression on my face, I inquired, "Do you remember how we thought those oysters might have been a little bit off?

"Oh no, are they starting to fight back?" he replied, a look of genuine concern on his face as he reached a hand to my forehead.

"Either that or I'm going into labour," I huffed, "but given my lack of recent nocturnal activities, it would have to have been an immaculate conception," I retorted, as my insides churned violently.

"You're definitely feeling a bit warm," Jonathan replied. "Okay, hold on for a couple more minutes, we're almost there," he continued, flooring the gas pedal.

As we screeched to a halt in front of my building a few minutes later, Jonathan turned to me and said, "So, I'm pretty sure that it wasn't just your oysters that were a bit off," the unsettled look on his face leaving no doubt that he was in the same agony that I was.

Making a quick executive decision, I replied, "Okay, I told Elyse to make herself scarce for the night. You use her washroom. I'm heading to mine, and let's promise to never speak of this again, okay?"

"It's a deal," he responded with a grimace as we raced inside the building.

A few minutes later, after I had discretely disposed of my dinner, taking a break only to call down the hall to tell Jonathan that he was awfully lucky that he had earned some brownie points with the shoes, I thought to myself, had I pissed off some higher power?

Was a little birthday luvin' really too much to ask when one's starting a new decade?
And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make – Paul McCartney

40. The next morning started off far better than the previous night had ended as I groggily emerged from an amazing sleep to discover Jonathan's arms still wrapped tightly around me.

Last night, after we had each parted ways with our oysters (and by the way, whoever thinks that those vile things are an aphrodisiac clearly has never experienced the effects of oysters gone bad), Jonathan was in no condition to drive home, so we had both crawled into my bed and promptly passed out.

Jonathan was still sleeping soundly, so I quietly slipped out of the bed and enjoyed a long, hot shower to wash away any unpleasant memories left by the oysters.

Returning to bed feeling fresh and relaxed, I snuggled myself deep into his arms, closed my eyes and let myself enjoy the intimacy of the moment and the feel of his body against my own.

A few minutes later, I felt a new sensation pressing up against me and I quickly realized that I wasn't the only one enjoying the experience.

I teasingly shifted my hips in response and I soon felt Jonathan's hands slowly running down my body, caressing me and exploring every curve of my body as they gradually continued on their journey south.

As his hand's journey proceeded to an increasingly humid sub-equatorial region, Jonathan slid one of his legs between my thighs, gently spreading them apart.

Not wanting to be an idle companion on this expedition, I reached behind myself to do a little exploring of my own and I was ecstatic to almost immediately find my hands full.

As the pace of our movements picked up, Jonathan moved out from behind me, lowering me gently onto my back before slowly working his way up my legs, caressing me with his hands as he explored with his tongue, every flicker sending shock waves across my body and I could feel my muscles tightening under his touch as he gradually worked his way upward.

When he finally reached his destination, my back arched involuntarily at the first brush of his tongue against my moist, swollen lips and I tugged at his hair playfully, pulling him closer to me.

As his pace quickened, my breath coming in short gulps, I mumbled, "I had no idea I was getting another present" before firmly grasping his head with both hands as he found the perfect spot, swiftly getting me right to the edge...

"Come here," I whispered excitedly, guiding him on top of me as he kissed my neck. I hadn't realized how much I had been craving the feel of his body against mine but the anticipation I felt in that brief moment was mesmerizing.

As our bodies came together, I gasped briefly from the exquisite sensation that tore across my body as he slowly slid himself inside me for the first time.

As Jonathan ran his hands down my body, I couldn't help thinking to myself that they really need to shorten law school.

Good lawyers really are so hard to find!

As it turned out, Jonathan was as generous in the bedroom as he had been on my birthday and my whole body felt like it was on fire by the time I finally felt myself reach the point of no return.

As Jonathan swelled and then finally released inside me, I tightened around him, my body shuddering as I came, crying out in ecstasy as a warm glow enveloped me.

Afterwards, as I lay back in his arms while we both caught our breath, my body still tingling as he gently brushed his hand across my cheek, I giggled a bit as I quietly whispered, "And here I thought nothing could top the shoes?"

Maybe my thirties weren't going to be so bad after all?
Besides getting several paper cuts in the same day or receiving the news that someone in your family has betrayed you to your enemies, one of the most unpleasant experiences in life is a job interview – Lemony Snicket

41. By the time Monday finally rolled around, I was feeling much better about my thirties, due in no small part to my birthday activities with Jonathan

On the other hand, my pending unemployment was weighing heavily on my mind and, accordingly, my interview that afternoon with Nigel was looking very much like the last lifeboat on board the Titanic.

I was determined to go into our meeting having at least some idea what a junior publicity specialist actually does. It also probably wouldn't hurt my cause if I could come up with a couple of reasons why I might be a fit for the role.

Unfortunately, even after spending a healthy chunk of my morning Googling 'publicity specialists', I still wasn't entirely sure what I was getting myself into.

As far as I could tell, the job likely would involve setting up social events, chatting with the press and spending some time on Facebook and Twitter, most of which didn't sound too different from how I currently spent my spare time, anyway.

Who would have thought that I could have been getting paid for my efforts all this time?

As 5 p.m. drew nearer, I was still fretting over how I could properly convey to Nigel that I had a vast array of social networking expertise without making it seem like I had been less than attentive to my current duties (even if there possibly was a tiny kernel of truth to that).

Additionally, the knowledge that my resume barely hinted at any sort of pertinent background or skills beyond my somewhat generic Bachelor of Arts degree with an English major was doing nothing to calm my frayed nerves.

Deciding that I might have to rely on my natural charm and charisma to win Nigel over, I quietly left the office promptly at 4:30. Veronica had promised to cover for me and lock up and I hustled over to Nigel's office, determined not to be late.

No sense in complimenting my non-existent qualifications by demonstrating my aversion to timeliness just yet.

Despite a quick pit stop to freshen up my makeup along the way, I still managed to arrive at Nigel's office with a full two minutes to spare.

Prompt without looking over-eager.

"Anna, it's so nice to see you again," Nigel noted, as he strode into the room, shaking my hand before directing me towards an adjacent meeting room.

Once again, he was impeccably dressed; this time in a three-piece grey suit, a baby blue shirt and I caught a glimpse of pink socks peeking out from his gleaming brown shoes.

"Thanks for taking the time to see me. Your offices are beautiful," I replied as I glanced around, taking in the tastefully appointed décor.

"Thank you, some of us keep pretty long hours so I wanted to make sure that it was a comfortable environment to spend time in. I'm sure it pales in comparison to a law office though," he replied.

"Well, it's not that our offices are unattractive per se, but after a client threw a hissy fit during a session and started tossing anything he could get his hands, our managing partner decided to do away with anything that a person could lift with one hand, so it's pretty barren in there now," I replied, grimacing slightly as Nigel held out a chair for me and then braced it with a bit more enthusiasm than I was comfortable with.

Apparently, my performance from the other night hadn't escaped his memory.

"Thanks, that's very thoughtful of you but I can assure you that my equilibrium issues from the other night were temporary and extremely unlikely to re-occur. I think I was just overly excited to hear about the possibility of a position that would stimulate me," I replied vivaciously, trying my best to move the conversation along as I sat down as gracefully as possible.

"Those have always been the positions that I've endeavoured to find myself in as well," Nigel responded as a hint of a smile played across his face, leaving me to wonder just how he had interpreted my response.

He certainly wasn't the easiest man to get a read on.

Pulling a chair over so that he could sit directly across from me, Nigel continued on, saying, "Let me tell you a bit about the role before we get into your background. As you might have surmised, you would be working under a senior publicity specialist and you would be assisting her in setting up interviews, book signings and author meet and greets. You would also be expected to assist with writing up press releases and creating a variety of online content such as setting up Facebook pages and Tweeting about various events. Does that sound like something that might capture your interest?" he inquired, his leg momentarily brushing up against mine as he shifted in his seat.

Figuring out this Nigel's intentions certainly had captured my interest. I could not for the life of me figure out if he was flirting with me or not.

"I think that it absolutely could stimulate my creative juices and it seems like it would mesh perfectly with my skills and with the direction I want to take my career in the future," I replied cautiously, giving him enough material to work with should he choose to take it that direction.

"Excellent, I take pride in trying to keep my employees satisfied. So what was it that led to you deciding to leave your current position?" he queried, looking at me attentively.

Just as I was about to bite my tongue and respond that I had simply decided that it was time to move on to something more challenging, I had second thoughts and decided that perhaps a little honesty might help me stand out from the pack.

"Well, a co-worker and I were chatting in the copy room a few months ago and I had hopped up on the photocopier to rest my feet while we were talking. I fully admit that, in retrospect, it was not the best decision. Boys being boys; he decided to hit the copy button while I was up there. I thought that all the evidence had gone in the shredder, but apparently not as my boss somehow came across a copy. I wasn't willing to throw my co-worker under the bus and name names when she asked about it and I hadn't been happy with my role there anyway, so I decided it was a good time for us to part ways," I replied, holding his gaze and doing my best to look innocent and cute as I waited for him to respond.

Nigel had been listening to my story in silence, a bemused look on his face. It felt like eons before he responded, saying "Loyalty's an admirable quality; I can't fault you for that. Also, we do our best to encourage artistic expression around here, but be careful. If I came across something like that it's liable to get framed and hung up in my office," he replied with a wink.

Half an hour later, after we had said our goodbyes and I had departed, I felt a wave of relief wash over me.

I couldn't say for sure, but it had felt like Nigel was partial to me on some level and I knew without any doubt that this was the job I was meant to have.
When you come to a fork in the road... Take it – Yogi Berra

42. The next day, I arrived at work to find the following email waiting for me in my inbox:

Miss Anagram,

After giving considerable consideration to your vast experience in this field, your unique assortment of interpersonal skills and your history with respect to exercising sound professional judgement, I have come to the conclusion that you are the ideal candidate to fill a position under me. As such, I have decided to proposition you forthwith.

The terms of my offer are attached. If you find them to be acceptable, please reply at your earliest convenience and report for duty promptly at, or at least somewhere in the neighbourhood of, 9:00 a.m., Monday, March 3.

Warmest regards,

Nigel Kane

A wave of relief hit me as I realized that I might not have to give up on the dream of being able to afford both food and shelter just yet.

Fighting back the urge to let out a squeal of delight, I quickly fired back a response:

Kindest Sir,

While I fear that my skills and experience may be such that I am overqualified for this role, I cannot ignore such a heartfelt and sincere request for assistance from one so clearly in need of my aide.

I have reviewed the terms of your offer and, while the offer appears to be meager in light of my exemplary qualifications, I will deign to accept said terms provided that I receive full copyright ownership of any items of personal artistic creation that may fall into your lap during the provision of said services. I will see you at some point on the morning of March 3.

Sincerely,

Miss Anagram

My response might have been a bit bold, but Nigel clearly seemed to be the playful type. Besides, with the sort of career trajectory that I was on, I was sure that I would have my own publishing house in no time at all, so it was really for the best if he just got used to viewing me as an equal.

Later that morning, as I was basking in the glow of my new career, a congratulatory text arrived from Jonathan.

Sadly, ever since I had finally got a little quality one-on-one time with him, he had been swamped at work and I had yet to be able to pry him free from his shackles.

I had been trying my best not to take it personally, but I was starting to wonder whether he had enjoyed recent events as much as I had. Let's face it, when a guy vanishes after your first time together, it's pretty hard not to find yourself pondering whether a few more yoga classes might have been called for.

Thankfully, his text included a promise to make up for his recent disappearing act the coming weekend, one which just so happened to coincide with Valentine's Day.

Despite Jonathan's text and my best efforts to reassure myself that everything was still relatively tight and that gravity had not taken a sudden toll on me as a result of hitting 30, I still felt compelled to spend the rest of the day finding excuses to get up and walk past the full length mirror currently decorating our waiting room.

Drawn inexorably to its mocking gaze, I continued to cast not so subtle glances at myself in a variety of increasingly provocative poses as I wondered what could possibly have run amok.

"I wouldn't turn that down if I were Jonathan," Veronica said with a giggle, giving my derriere a slap after catching me lingering a moment too long in front of the mirror, glancing over my shoulder in an ill-fated attempt to discern whether my butt might have lost some of its bounce.

"What's got you looking so worried? I can tell you from experience, guys generally don't make Valentine's Day plans if they aren't interested, and no man has ever gone as all out for my birthday the way he did for yours," she continued, clearly puzzled by my obsession with the mirror.

"Well, you know that my birthday was the first time that we spent the night together, (a topic that we had covered in depth earlier that morning) and sure, it seemed like we totally clicked, but now out of nowhere he's busy every night with work? What's up with that? Usually guys magically become way more available once things get to this stage. I'm a little worried that maybe something didn't live up to expectations," I replied, as I gave up any pretense of modesty while examining myself in front of the mirror.

"Dammit, why did I have to find myself a younger man right before I suddenly aged a decade? He's probably used to dating 21 year old hard bodies, not 30 year old sagging bodies that have been inhaling molten cheese for dinner," I moaned, my confidence utterly shot by the image.

"Whoa, pump the brakes for a just a second there. He's a lawyer right? I'll admit, I've never dabbled in that profession, but from what I've seen on TV, it seems like they can be pretty busy people. Like you said, he's young, so he's probably just trying to make a name for himself at work by putting in some extra hours," Veronica responded as she guided me away from the mirror.

"Yeah, you're probably right," I mumbled, casting one last forlorn look at myself in the mirror as I backtracked toward my desk.

"You know, if you're looking for a good workout and a way to spice things up a bit, you should take a pole dancing lesson with me. I've heard that the classes are really intense workouts and I was thinking of giving one a try tonight," Veronica mentioned out of the blue, catching me completely off guard.

As I shot her a questioning glance, she continued, saying, "Derek's got a birthday coming up soon and I thought maybe I could surprise him and show off my skills if the class goes well," as she pulled up a website that she had been checking out.

"Wow, I'm impressed that you came up with that idea. It's possibly the only present I can think of that any and every guy would be excited to unwrap," I replied, doing my best to sound supportive.

"Things must be going pretty well with him if he's convinced you to go to a country bar and now you're considering doing something like this for him," I noted while I pondered whether Veronica's idea could also be used to help me refocus Jonathan's attention until an image of me in a full body cast suddenly popped into my head.

"Well, outside of volleyball, our interests don't overlap quite as much as I had hoped, but I actually have sort of enjoyed letting him bring me into his life a bit. Besides, we had drank so much before we started dancing the other night that I got pretty into it. I would never have guessed to look at him, but he moves pretty well for a country boy," she concluded with a wink.

"So, speaking of moves, how do you feel about keeping me company tonight and maybe picking a few moves of your own? It might give Jonathan something to mull over the next time someone asks him to pull an all-nighter," Veronica noted with a sly smile as she expertly played on my pressure point.

While I wasn't really the type to suggested a trip to a strip club as a way to end a night out, I had found myself inside of enough of them on birthdays and stagettes that I had gained a healthy respect for the coordination and strength it must take to slide down a pole upside down and to do so in a way that still managed to look seductive.

On the other hand, as I pondered my own previous prodigious athletic exploits, I couldn't quite manage to get the image of Bridget Jones' aborted trip down the fireman's pole, with her skirt billowing around her head, out of my mind.

Taking a deep breath, I cautiously replied, "I've had enough trouble with just sitting down lately, so I'm pretty sure that spinning around a pole is not going to end well for me. Then again, I guess it's got to be better for me than sitting at home moping and drinking. Let me mull it over and I'll get back to you before the class."

Well, everyone always says that dating requires sacrifices.

Sigh.

All I can say is that Jonathan better have one hell of a Valentine's Day planned for me this weekend.
I'm not a woman. I'm a force of nature – Courtney Love

43. Later that night, having downed a couple of martinis to go along with my sparse, calorically challenged dinner, I decided to put ego before common sense and meet up with Veronica at the dance studio.

Even if most of my prodigious upper body strength was based solely on years of carrying shopping bags from the mall to my car, given all of my yoga experience, how difficult could it be to add a pole to the mix?

Besides, if Britney Spears routinely managed to pull off a stage routine with one of those things whilst (possibly) being medicated with god knows what, one would think that I should be able to survive one night with a couple of martinis in me.

Stepping inside the studio, I quickly spotted Veronica at the far end of the room and I hustled over to join her.

I was wearing my favourite yoga pants on which, for some unfathomable reason, were feeling surprisingly snug as I made my way through the crowd. However, I was confident that tonight's workout was going to help loosen them up again.

"This place is packed! I knew these classes were popular but I wasn't expecting it to be anything like this," I exclaimed in shock as I gazed around the room, taking in the scene.

"I was talking to the girl at reception and apparently it's like this every year before Valentine's Day," Veronica replied as our tiny, incredibly sculpted, instructor walked up to the front of the room.

Hmm, was I the only girl that hadn't been out there broadening her skills on a regular basis? And here I thought Hallmark had created Valentine's Day so that men would shower us with attention and/or presents at least once a year? Who knew there was an expectation of reciprocity?

As I scanned the room, which appeared to be practically overflowing with lithe young women, my mind wandered back to my shrinking yoga wear (or possibly my expanding hindquarters) and I suddenly found myself very motivated to make the most of this experience.

After going through some stretches and warm-up exercises, our instructor split us off into pairs so that everyone had a spotter as we learned the basics of sliding down a pole.

Glancing around the room, it was evident that the vast majority of the women in attendance, Veronica and myself very much included, were a study in function over form.

After exerting far more effort than I had expected, the two of us had each managed to successfully execute a controlled slide down the pole, but slow and sexy it most definitely was not.

"Hi ladies, how are the two of you doing?" Heidi, our instructor, asked, coming up behind us as Veronica and I were catching our breath.

Seeing Heidi up close, I realized why the two of us had been struggling so much. Not only was she tiny, but every curve of her body appeared to be toned and sculpted.

After glancing at my name tag, she addressed me, asking, "Anna, do you mind if I use you to demonstrate the next movement?" her tone coming far closer to an order than a request.

Without bothering to wait for a reply, Heidi turned on her mike and announced, "Ladies, if I can have your attention over here for a moment, Anna is going to help me demonstrate the next movement."

I gulped audibly as all of the eyes in the room immediately swivelled towards me.

I so did not sign up for this.

"So, Anna is going to grip the pole with both hands and then, while holding her body tight against the pole, she will swing both legs forward towards her head while her body rotates backward and then she'll slowly slide down the pole while I support her," Heidi continued, indicating for me to grab the pole.

So I'm supposed to swing my legs over my head and then slide down upside down? Hmm, I'm probably not going to take any wagers on how well this is going to turn out.

Taking a deep breath, I did my best to comply with Heidi's demand; grasping the pole firmly and holding on for dear life as I felt Heidi's hands supporting me and guiding me into the proper position.

"Now, Anna is going to lean back and let her legs slowly rotate with her body up and over her head and then she is going to hold that position while I slowly lower her down the pole," Heidi's voice booming in my ear as she guided my body backwards.

Surprisingly, everything was going fairly smoothly until my legs started to rotate over my head and I heard a faint but unmistakeable ripping sound emanating from the seam of my pants as they began to lose their battle with the laws of physics, slowly succumbing to the building pressure as my legs dangled helplessly over my head.

If there was ever a moment in my life when I did not need a roomful of people staring at me, this was most definitely it.

Heidi, who had become aware of my delicate condition, sped up my descent and discretely spun me around so that I eventually ended my journey sitting upright and facing the rest of the class. My face had gone crimson and sweat was pouring out of every pore of my body as Heidi said, "Let's hear it for Anna, excellent form," before moving back to the centre of the room in order to give me a little privacy to deal with my situation.

Veronica leaned over to me, struggling in vain to contain her laughter as she whispered to me, "Did I just hear your pants..."

"Yes, yes you did. I think now might be a good time for us to depart," I replied, cutting her off in mid-sentence as I spotted an exit right next to us.

As I did my best to make a graceful exit without mooning the entire room, I decided then and there that I was hiring a personal trainer first thing the next morning.

The thought of someday running into my favorite salesperson at the mall again and potentially having to ask for a size 10 was simply more than I could stomach.
In the name of God, stop a moment, cease your work, look around you – Leo Tolstoy

44. After my very public humiliation, I decided that it was time to cut back on my social activities for a while and to go into hiding for the rest of the week.

Besides, with Jonathan apparently having gone AWOL until Valentine's Day, I figured now was the perfect time to start getting my bulbous butt to the gym on a more regular basis and to have a little 'me time' before my new job began to take up any of my nights.

I'll admit, coming home after the gym and indulging in a few glasses (or bottles on the nights that Elyse had kept me company) of red wine might not have been the ideal path to healthy living, but I've always believed that it is important to lead a balanced life.

However, by the time Thursday night rolled around, my lack of recent quality time with Jonathan was beginning to wear on me and, as I kicked back in a bubble bath, I apparently felt compelled to demonstrate why alcohol and cell phones so often make for a less than desirable partnership.

As I sipped my wine, I haphazardly typed out the following missive:

Mr. Hunter, I understand that you are a busy young man, but your services are urgently required. A sticky situation has developed with respect to my plumbing and I seem to have gotten myself all wet while trying to resolve it. Having previously conducted an extensive search for skilled workers in this field, I have determined that you are the only man that has the ability to satisfactorily resolve this issue.

Throwing caution to the wind, I decided that my description may not have properly illustrated the urgency of emergency so I snapped a quick photo of myself with some strategically placed bubbles to clarify the situation and sent it on its way.

After briefly succumbing to a combination of wine and exquisite, steaming hot, water, I was eventually summoned back to consciousness when my phone vibrated violently on the edge of the tub.

After gingerly reaching for my phone to prevent yet another iPhone from ending up in a watery grave, I eagerly cast my gaze downwards, anxious to see how my message had been received.

I found the following waiting for me:

Ms. Graham, thank you for capturing the urgency of your situation in such a compelling manner. I'm very aware of how hard things can be when these conditions arise and are not handled in a timely fashion. I'm actually dealing with a related issue at the moment which could use some hands on attention. I'm flattered that you wish to avail yourself of my services in this time of need and, if it were at all possible for me to insert myself into this matter in order to bring things to a blissful resolution, I would do so forthwith. Unfortunately, circumstances completely beyond my control dictate that the earliest I can assist will be Saturday. However, at that time, I will promptly render assistance in respect of any and all needs that you might have.

Really? The guy can't even pull himself away from work for a quickie?

Not that I would ever admit to having made such a sordid suggestion.

Not feeling particularly satisfied by his response, I tried valiantly (though perhaps unsuccessfully) to sound saucy rather than miffed as I immediately responded with the following:

Mr. Hunter, while I do realize that you are a busy young man with many demands on your time, this is not the type of hands on customer service that I've become accustomed to when dealing with your organization. Does your organization not offer a customer satisfaction guarantee?

That might have been a bit harsh, but there was nothing wrong with wanting to come first.

Or regularly...

It didn't take too long to find out if my last message had gotten through. A couple of minutes later, I got the reassurance I had none too subtly been searching for when I read:

Please accept my sincerest apologies for the delay in your service schedule. If you'll allow me to make it up to you on Saturday, I promise not only to leave you completely satisfied but, to make up for the delay, I intend to delight you in every way possible.

Hmm, well that sounded intriguing. I suppose waiting a couple more days won't kill me...
Where words fail, music speaks – Hans Christian Andersen

45. Friday came and went more slowly than a snail destined for the skillet and, by the time I finally arrived home that night after sweating off some calories at the gym, I was very ready for my self-imposed social exile to come to a conclusion.

Unfortunately for me, my girls were otherwise occupied for the weekend. Sam had whisked Elyse away to Turks and Caicos for a romp in the surf and sand, while Derek had taken Veronica up to Whistler for a couple of nights.

As such, I once again found myself lounging in a nice hot bath, wine glass firmly in hand, lamenting my long lost boyfriend's career choice.

I know people get busy, but when a guy can't tear himself away from his job five nights in a row, it's a bit of a slap in the face.

All the more so when those five nights just happen to come right after the two of you have just been together for the first time.

Having downed a healthy amount of wine (okay, 'healthy' was a judgement call, but I was certainly feeling pretty good), I had reached a fairly relaxed state and I may have momentarily gotten in tune with my subconscious self (not to be confused with passing out).

The next thing I knew, I was being roused from my slumber by the not so sweet sensations of my phone on vibrate.

I tried my best to ignore it for a moment as reaching my arm out of the water seemed like both an unpleasant proposition and an awful lot of work.

But, after a moment's reflection, I realized that most of my friends were out of town or otherwise occupied and I picked it up hoping that perhaps my wayward beau might finally have found a minute of spare time to entertain me.

As I glanced at the caller ID, I noticed that it was midnight on the dot.

"Don't they ever let you go home?" I purred into the phone, resolute in my determination not to say anything that was going to make me seem insecure about his recent disappearing act.

"I know this week has kind of sucked, and I'm not happy about it either, but I'm all yours tomorrow and I'm going to make it up to you, starting right now," he responded, sounding reasonably sincere about his statement.

Starting now eh?

I wasn't sure if the tub was big enough for two, but I was definitely open to finding out.

Before I the chance to ask him what he meant, I heard the first few lines of 'My funny Valentine' warbling softly through the phone.

I had goose bumps running down the length of my body as I sank back into the tub. I had never had a guy serenade me before and I was shocked that he had remembered my favourite song after I had mentioned to him in passing at the coffee shop weeks ago when we were warming up after skating.

As it turned out, Jonathan was a man of many talents and I put my phone on speaker, closed my eyes and got lost in the music for a moment.

I'm not sure if it was the wine, the music or the thoughtfulness of the gesture, but by the time the last note faded away, all was definitely forgiven and I was feeling pretty choked up.

"That was beautiful. I can't believe you did that for me," I told him after taking a moment to compose myself.

"I didn't want you to think that I had forgotten about you or that I wasn't paying attention," he responded, straining to catch his breath after his performance.

"Anyway, I know it's late so I won't keep you long, but I wanted to wish you a happy Valentine's Day and to tell you that I am so glad that I've found you and I can't wait to see you tomorrow," he concluded.

I had never had a midnight Valentine's Day call before (well, not at the start of it at least) but it certainly wasn't a bad way to start the day.

"That's so sweet of you. It's really nice to hear your voice again. I can't lie, it feels like it's been a long time since I've seen you," I replied, suddenly feeling much less tense about the insecurities that had been plaguing me all week.

"Well, I know it's late, so why don't you close your eyes and you'll see me soon. Sweet dreams belle," Jonathan said, guiding me gently towards what was unquestionably the best sleep I had had in days.
Hope is our four letter word – One Republic

46. The next morning, I woke up feeling completely stress free for the first time in a week. It was utterly astonishing how much drama a person could create in one's own mind over absolutely nothing at all.

I spent the morning leisurely getting ready and spending some quality time with Kahlua as Jonathan wasn't picking me up until noon for a late brunch. I took some solace in rubbing that big fury belly, knowing that, regardless of her curves, she appeared to be pretty content with her lot in life.

By the time I heard Jonathan buzz my phone to come up, I was looking my adorable best and I had put all of the past week's insecurities firmly behind me.

As I opened the door, I was greeted by a stunning bouquet of red roses intermingled with calla and Casablanca lilies; the intoxicating aroma only widening my smile as I took a peek at the card which read as follows:

I know that it's a bit of a crime,

That I haven't seen you since our first time,

And to apologize I wrote this rhyme,

To say that without you I've been blue,

And I want to thank you for not bidding me adieu,

Because I am so glad that I have found you.

Happy Valentine's Day, and here's hoping it's the first of many.

Jonathan

xoxo

While he may not have had a future as a writer, I was willing to go along with the adage that it's the thought that counts and he was the first and only man in my life to have written me something that approximated poetry.

Plus, it was nice to know that I wasn't the only one who had noticed that it had been an awfully long time since we had seen each other.

"Hey stranger, it's nice to see you again," I greeted him as I slipped inside his arms and thoroughly re-acquainted myself with his lips.

"You're certainly a sight for sore eyes. I had almost forgotten how beautiful you are," Jonathan responded, and I noticed his eyes were shimmering when I looked up at him after we finally broke apart from each other.

He wasn't looking too shabby either; his shirt clinging tightly to his chest, highlighting his sculpted pecs and he had left his hair looking a little more tousled than the rather non-descript way he typically wore it to work.

Hmm, I wonder if I can talk him into breakfast in bed. I'm sure we can find some way to work up a healthy appetite by the time dinner rolls around...

"Well then, if you're having trouble recalling me already, I guess I'll have to do something to make myself a bit more memorable for you," I replied coyly as I stepped in close to him, my chest pressed firmly against him as I looked up at him while I playfully ran my nails down the small of his back.

An odd expression momentarily flashed across his face before he smiled at me again and replied, "That's a pretty hard deal to say no to. I might have to hold you to that later."

Later? Did I really have to point out that my offer was redeemable now?

"You had better mister," I responded, tapping him lightly on the crotch with the back of my fist while beaming a smile at him with everything I had.

What happened to the man of action that I had unearthed at the shoe design store? Was it possible that stories of my pole dancing disaster had leaked out to the wider world and I was now considered damaged goods?

Not the ideal thought to be pondering on Valentine's Day but, as it turned out, Jonathan had another surprise in store for me that quickly got my mind off my worries.

Despite my best efforts, I hadn't yet had any luck in getting him to disclose where we were going for brunch but, after a short drive which culminated in our arrival at the Teahouse in Stanley Park, it was obvious that he was still putting in a concerted effort to impress.

Better yet, it turned out he had reserved a table right next to a window with a majestic view of English Bay spread out in front of us.

"I've always wanted to eat here. It's such a perfect location for a special occasion and this view is incredible!" I announced breathlessly, the enthusiasm evident in my voice as I took in the spectacular vista; grateful that the sun had momentarily pushed its way out from between the clouds.

"I know that I've been missing in action this week so I figured that I should make the time that we have together special," Jonathan responded, holding out my chair for me as I sat down.

After ensuring that my butt made its way safely to the centre of the seat, I took another look at the view and I had to admit, it was not a bad way to start the day.

"Speaking of special experiences, I wonder if they have any oysters on the menu?" Jonathan continued, the allusion to our dinner and its disastrous repercussions causing me to choke violently on my water.

Anyone that thinks that those slimy creatures are an aphrodisiac clearly hasn't experienced the havoc those little things are capable of wreaking.

I couldn't argue that it wasn't a "special" experience but hopefully it was of the once in a lifetime variety.

A few moments later, after I had managed to catch my breath but with my eyes still watery, I gingerly replied, "I think the eggs benedict might be calling to me today but don't let me stop you."

"I suppose oysters are more of a dinner dish anyway. So how has your week been? Are you excited about your new job?" he inquired, as we sipped on mimosas and took in the breathtaking vista.

Hmm, let's see. What's the best way to describe this past week? Well, my pants couldn't contain my bulbous butt and I spent the rest of the week in seclusion with nothing but several bottles of vino to keep me company because, after one night with me, work was calling out to you five nights in a row.

After quickly coming to the conclusion that I didn't want to discuss any of those topics in greater detail, I decided to instead focus on my new job.

"I'm so excited about the job! Just one more week to go! It'll be a chance to finally put my degree to use and challenged myself a bit. Plus, I heard that I might be eligible for an expense account," I replied wistfully, my mind briefly wandering to thoughts of decadent lunches and scintillating conversations with famous literary giants.

"It sounds like it covers off everything you were looking for then," Jonathan responded, a knowing smile on his face as I snapped myself back to reality, blushing as I realized he had caught me daydreaming.

"So, why don't you tell me a bit about this project that's been keeping you so busy that you haven't been able to pry yourself free for one night all week to keep me company?" I inquired as I grazed his calf with my toes, eager to shift the focus of the conversation.

"I know I owe you an explanation, although I was sort of hoping to leave this until later," he replied, looking inexplicably anguished by my question.

Yikes, that didn't sound promising. Thank god I didn't order oysters today. My stomach was starting to do loops all on its own.

I looked at him questioningly, silently urging him to continue.

"The project that I've been working on is highly confidential and I can't name the company that we're working for, but our client is a large international oil and gas producer and they are currently in negotiations to take over another producer that's located in Kazakhstan. My firm has been retained by the buyer to assist in negotiating and papering the deal," Jonathan continued, still looking strangely pained by what appeared to be a fairly benign topic thus far.

Okay, so far, so good...

"It sucks that this project is keeping you so busy and that I haven't got to see you all week, but it sounds like it's probably good experience for you to be involved in a deal like that?" I asked, hesitatingly.

"No question, I'm really lucky to have been asked to be involved in the project and it's getting me some great exposure at the firm, but here's the thing...," he replied, pausing for a moment.

Uh oh, I've never had a 'thing' work out well for me before. That lead-in wasn't helping the knot in my stomach, whatsoever.

"My firm needs someone to go over to Kazakhstan to do all of the due diligence and to work directly with our client over there. The partner that's the lead contact on the file will fly out for meetings but, as I'm the junior on the file, I've been asked to go and I could be there for a while. Unfortunately, there's really no way to know exactly when I would be back at this point," he blurted out anxiously, looking utterly dejected.

I suddenly found myself short of breath and the eggs benedict had quickly turned to ash in my mouth as I digested what that news could mean for our relationship.

"So, do you have any choice about this or do you have to go?" I inquired sullenly, already dreading his response.

Do they not have lawyers in Kazakhstan? Everyone's always saying there are too many lawyers in the world. Can't we ship one of the surplus ones over there instead?

"The lead partner on the file asked if I would go. Technically I could say no, but I've never heard of an associate turning down a request like this. It would be career suicide. I hope you understand?" he replied, looking at me forlornly.

"I understand. You have to do what you have to do for your career," I responded quietly, trying to blink away the tears that I could already feel welling up behind my eyes.

I so do not understand.

"I hope you know that this has nothing to do whatsoever with how I feel about you?" Jonathan said as he put a hand over mine, doing his best to elicit eye contact from me.

Yeah, 'nothing' definitely felt like an accurate depiction of what this decision was making me feel like.

"I know that you're just starting your career and I get that you can't turn them down," I replied meekly, not able to return his gaze out of fear of losing control of my emotions entirely.

But it wouldn't kill you to at least mention that you want to, or how hard it is going to be for you to leave me behind.

"Do you know when you would have to leave?" I inquired, hoping against hope that we would at least get to spend some time together before he left and discuss what this was going to mean for us before he left that he wasn't springing this on me at the last minute.

"I found out on Friday that they want me on a flight leaving tomorrow morning," Jonathan replied his eyes downcast, unable to even make eye contact.

Bastard.

"I know that we haven't been dating for that long and I'm not sure if it would be fair for me to ask you to wait for me without knowing when I'll be back, but I do care about you and I would really like to stay in touch and see you again when I get back if you haven't moved on by then," he concluded, his voice faltering as he spoke.

No, you could probably ask me that. In fact, you really should be asking me that if you care so much about me, shouldn't you?

Take a chance here, bud!

"Just to be clear then, you're breaking up with me?" I asked plaintively, my voice cracking as I attempted to spit the words out.

I wasn't entirely sure what he was trying to say, but regardless of how he phrased it, it sure felt like a breakup speech so far.

"Anna, I truly think you're an amazing woman and I have no desire to be with anyone but you. I guess what I am saying is that I'm going to have to be out of the country for a while and I don't know when I'll be coming back. I don't want you to feel obligated to wait for me, but I would really like to see you again when I'm back if you still want to at that point," he replied, clearly picking his words carefully, probably in an attempt to avoid saying anything that was going to set me off.

For a smart guy, this had to have been the dumbest way he could have handled this.

Seriously, who takes someone out on Valentine's Day and springs that sort of news?

"I'm sorry but I think I've lost my appetite," I retorted, as I abruptly stood and hurriedly exited the restaurant as I lost my struggle to hold back my tears.

As if it wasn't bad enough that I was losing the man of my dreams on Valentine's Day, did he really need to flee to another continent just to cement things?

Wait, was Kazakhstan on another continent? It sounded practically made up to me but I was relatively sure that it wasn't a short journey to wherever the hell it was.

My yoga pants might not survive this news, but Ben and Jerry were going to be able to retire on what I was going to be putting away tonight!
Show me a woman who doesn't feel guilty and I'll show you a man – Erica Jong

47. After bolting from the restaurant and blindly wandering through Stanley Park in a haze of tears and crushing psychological anguish, I eventually managed to track down a cab and I tucked myself into a ball in the corner as I started to make my way home.

Based on the non-stop vibrations coming from my purse, it was clear that Jonathan was desperate to talk with me but I was in no mood to talk to anyone, let alone someone who was willing to toss me aside in exchange for a one-way ticket to Kazakhstan.

Kazakhstan.

Even the name of that place irked me.

It would be different if he was going someplace interesting like Brazil or Dubai. I could maybe understand that...unless the heartless bastard wouldn't have asked me to go there, either.

But to be dumped on Valentine's Day for a country that sounded like something a South Park writer had made up?

Who does that!?

And how does he not even ask me to wait for him to get back?

What's the worst that could happen if he asks? Even if I had said no, we would basically have been in the same place as we are now, but at least I would have had a choice!

"Lady?" I was vaguely aware of a gruff, heavily accented, voice muttering at me from the peripheral of my consciousness and I turned to find the driver waving a Kleenex in my general direction.

Well now, perhaps there were still gentlemen in this world after all.

"Thank you so much, that's very kind of you," I said, genuinely moved by his thoughtfulness as I started to dab my eyes.

"No, no, to clean seat!" the cabbie muttered at me crossly, gesticulating menacingly with his hand in the direction of the wet spot my tears had left on the seat of the cab.

That is it; I am so done with men!

Seeing that we were pulling up to a light, I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm, "Thank you but your services are no longer required," as I dropped my fare on the seat before hopping out and slamming the door in disgust.

Then, as the cab angrily peeled away from the light with its tires screeching, the skies opened up in typically Vancouver fashion and large pellets of rain almost immediately drenched me to the skin.

Seriously?

Whoever's at the controls up there, if I did something to piss you off, let me know what I need to do to make it up to you because ruining my suede shoes and stealing the best prospect I've had in years on Valentine's Day is a bit more than this girl can take!
The course of true love never did run smooth – William Shakespeare

48. Later that day (the exact time being a bit nebulous as I had consumed a tiny bit of wine upon the conclusion of my slog home), I found myself collapsed on the couch with Kahlua squeezed in tightly next to me, helping to ensure that none of the Chunky Monkey escaped the two chunky monkeys which had taken up residence on the couch.

It was truly amazing how animals instinctively know when something is wrong and know not to leave your side. If only the male species could somehow evolve some semblance of those skills, the world might be a much less traumatic place.

"I've heard that most guys actually like a little junk in the trunk. At this rate, that can only help our prospects down the line," I noted to Kahlua as she licked a drop of melted ice cream from the outside of the bucket before stretching out and purring contentedly.

I'll take that as her agreement.

"You would never let your career get in the way of our relationship would you," I continued, my voice going squeaky as I playfully rubbed her giant, furry, belly.

In response, Kahlua rubbed her head against my thigh, her audible purr undoubtedly signifying her assent.

Speaking of the less evolved half of humanity, I could feel my phone vibrating yet again. Jonathan's constant stream of messages was making it pretty clear that he desperately wanted to come over and talk before he left.

As I stared at his latest plea to meet up, I asked Kahlua, "What do you think, should I let the bastard come over? I'm sure I won't say anything that I would regret later. I'm usually pretty articulate in these situations, right?" The words were emerging ponderously as my tongue had started to feel a bit thicker than normal.

Kahlua rolled vigorously from side to side on her back, apparently very much in disagreement with that notion.

"Well really, what do you know about matters of the heart? I haven't seen a boy so much as sniffing around you in years," I continued, as I playfully scratched her head.

I knew that I was probably going to regret it if I didn't talk to Jonathan before he left, but my babbling, somewhat one sided, conversation with Kahlua had left me fairly certain that I was in no condition to talk to anyone that was capable of providing a response.

Plus, there had been nothing in his texts so far that gave me any reassurance that talking in person was going to change anything, and the idea of getting hurt any further was more than I could bear.

Hmm, perhaps texting would be safer? At least that way I would have time to think about my replies, and I wouldn't just be blurting out the first thought that popped into my head. Really, what could go wrong?

Having concluded that my approach was virtually foolproof, I fired off a very benign response to his repeated requests to meet which read:

Hi, I'm sorry I ran off like that but your news was completely unexpected. It really upset me and I didn't want to make a scene in the restaurant. I'm not sure meeting in person is a good idea to fight.

There, nice and safe, no harm done. But perhaps it was time for another glass of wine to calm the nerves a bit...

A few minutes, and sips, later, I felt my phone vibrate with his reply:

I understand, and I didn't mean to break that news to you so abruptly. I wanted to sit down later in private to tell you, but when it came up at the restaurant, I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to meet up to fight though. I just wanted to talk things through and to properly say goodbye.

To fight? What on earth was he talking about? Oops, I see now. That was supposed to be "tonight".

Fricking auto-correct.

Wait a minute, he wants to say goodbye? So he was breaking up with me?

With my heart pounding furiously in my chest, I quickly banged out a response; all my good intentions about providing carefully crafted responses having immediately flown out the window as I sent out the following:

What happened to you wanting to see me when you get back? If you're staying goodbye, I don't need you to break up with me in person. And that was supposed to be 'tonight', not 'to fight'!

This was not going well at all!

I could have sworn that he had said he wanted to at least meet up again when he got back but my memory was starting to get a bit cloudy.

And why was Kahlua swaying back and forth all of a sudden?

The silly cat looked like she was drunk!

I had put my iPod on random and, wouldn't you know it, it seemed to be feeling my pain. As Gotye came on, I couldn't help belting out a few lines as I weaved unsteadily around the living room.

"Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over,

But had me believing that it was always something that I'd done,

But I don't want to live that way,

Reading into every word you say,"

I had unintentionally been increasing my volume a bit with each line before I crashed back onto the couch, causing Kahlua to glare at me as I sobbed, "Now you're just somebody that I used to know," softly into the pillow.

A few minutes later, I was jolted back to semi-consciousness by the harsh vibrations of my phone alerting me to the following:

I'm a bit confused about you saying goodbye if I'm staying? I honestly can't stay. I would if there was any way that I could. I'm not sure what you mean about breaking up tonight, but I don't want to fight either. I just wanted to see you in person before my trip. I've never met anyone quite like you and I'm completely open to picking things up where we left off whenever I get back.

Staying? What is he talking about? Oooh wait, I see now. I guess that last text didn't turn out to be quite as eloquent as it had sounded in my head, but the letters on my phone seemed to be shrinking all of a sudden.

Well, I've got to be able to improve on that! With my fingers moving ponderously, I managed to fire off this articulate retort:

You should've assed me stay. This night not supposed about fights suck. See you before I trip too. Pick me up!

Why was it that I had thought texting had been a good idea again?

And who was dimming the lights all of a sudden?
If you are going through hell, keep going – Sir Winston Churchill

49. The next morning, I groggily emerged from my slumber to find blinding sunlight streaming into the room and searing my rather dry, irritated retinas.

I moaned in agony as I attempted in vain to shelter my eyes, wondering what had possessed me to leave my bedroom curtains open. Then, as I cracked one eye open just enough to shed some light on the situation, it slowly dawned on me that I had never made it back to my room last night, and that I had instead passed out on the couch.

As I raised a hand to my face to rub the sleep out of my eyes, I made a horrifying discovery. Peering out into the sunlight, I realized that my right hand was covered in some sort of, caked on, brown goo.

I sat up, startled, wondering just what exactly had happened the night before. After my eyes eventually came into focus, I spotted a mostly empty ice cream cartoon lying on the floor and I quickly deduced where my hand had come to rest when I blissfully parted ways with consciousness the night before.

It is truly a proud moment when you realize that you're capable of drinking to the point where even submerging one of your limbs into a frozen food product isn't enough to shock you out of your stupor.

Suddenly, an even more horrifying thought crossed my mind; just what else had I managed to get up to last night?

Spotting my cell phone lying in the middle of the floor, I summoned all the energy I could muster and I reached out to grab it.

Taking a deep breath and uttering a short prayer, I began surveying my increasingly nonsensical texts to Jonathan from the previous night.

If my head hadn't already been pounding like it had a Viking trying to drive a spike through it, it sure would have been after I had a chance to look at my texts.

Yikes!

Who could have known that drinking and texting could potentially be a toxic combination?

Scrolling down to the end of my messages, I saw that Jonathan had, very wisely, declined to respond to my final communiqué after I had parted ways with consciousness for the night.

Glancing back at my phone, it dawned on me that I had also managed to sleep (yes, that might be a charitable term for it) well past Jonathan's departure time.

The thought of not seeing him again for a couple of months, if ever, did nothing to moderate my misery. Making things even worse was the realization that, even after reviewing his texts, I still didn't really know where things stood between us.

If only he just thought I was fat, or something else that I could control. It's not like I could realistically up and move to a country that I couldn't even spell, yet alone find on a map.

Then again, I didn't mean enough to him for him to even ask me to wait for him, so that's got to be some sort of sign, right?

Fuck it, no sense in dwelling on something that I can't change.

Besides, no matter how much this hurts right now, at least I got to remember what it was like to feel something real for a change. Maybe I can convince myself that this pain is better than being stuck at a restaurant with someone I can barely tolerate while trying to forget about all the things that I actually want in a relationship.

No, instead I get to contemplate whether I might have messed up pretty much the exact relationship I wanted.

Frick.

Well, I'm not going to spend the next two or three months moping around, hoping for the best when he gets back.

If Jonathan wants me, he can fight for me. Until then, the world is my oyster!

And speaking of oysters, the washroom beckons yet again...
God gave man both a penis and a brain, but unfortunately not enough blood supply to run both at the same time – Robin Williams

50. The next day, the lingering effects of my hangover were making my Monday morning even more unbearable than usual, much to the chagrin of several motorists unlucky enough to share my route to work with me that morning.

However, my mood quickly brightened when I realized that I would be commencing my last week of servitude under Maggie with a visit from a personal favourite of mine, George Elliott.

George was a rather non-descript, paunchy, balding salesperson who worked for some large IT service company. If you're currently thinking to yourself, not exactly the type of eye candy that I could use right about now; you would be correct.

However, perhaps due to the realization that both his appearance, and his job, were about as bland as the paint in our offices, George insisted on meandering through life dressed as, and acting like, an urban cowboy, right down to his enormous, bushy, handlebar mustache.

He had previously shown up to his appointments dressed in everything from boots complete with spurs, to a bolo tie and a cowboy hat. Even more amusingly, he also appeared to have taken a shine to me as he flirted shamelessly with me every time he came in for an appointment.

At least you couldn't fault the guy for his taste in women.

Today he had arrived sporting a black, wide brimmed cowboy hat and a ridiculously large belt buckle complete with mini six shooters engraved on either side.

"Well hello darlin, aren't y'all looking mighty purdy today," he greeted me with a horrific attempt at a Texas drawl as he stepped up to the edge of the reception desk, leaning over on his elbows in a blatant attempt to gaze down my blouse.

Luckily for him, my ego was in need of a little pick me up wherever I happened to find it today.

"Hey George, let me guess; you finally got plugs and the hat is so you can surprise me on my last day with you?" I replied, bantering playfully with him.

"Today's your last day here? he responded despondently, the disappointment plainly evident on his face.

"And no such luck on the plugs until I get done with this process and handing over half of my hard earned cash, but if today's the last time I get the pleasure of your company, maybe I can take you out after and show you how to fire off some rounds?" he responded, comically twirling one of the tiny imitation pistols on his belt with a finger.

Leaning forward slightly on the desk, I invited him in a bit closer with one finger as I stuck my chest out ever so subtly, I responded saucily, "George, I would love to take you up on that offer, but when I fire off a guy's gun..." my voice trailing off as I paused momentarily for effect, "I need something that packs a bit more of a kick than what you're currently displaying down there."

As Veronica unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snort of laughter, I continued, "I really prefer something that I can wrap both hands around, if you know what I mean," before giving George a salacious wink.

Thankfully for George, whose face had by that time gone almost as red as his plaid shirt, Maggie had come out to collect him for his session and rescued him from us.

"Back to work ladies," she scolded us coolly under her breath as she walked past, frowning disapprovingly at Veronica's bright pink face as she wiped away a tear of laughter.

"Maggie's going to lose her mind if George ever tells her what you just said," Veronica whispered to me, giggling furiously as she tried her best to compose herself.

"No doubt," I replied, "but I'm pretty sure that the highlight of his week is trying out lines on me, so I'm willing to bet that he's only half listening to Maggie while he tries to come up with something witty to say to me on his way out."

Sure enough, an hour later and $600 lighter, George walked out of the conference room and immediately saddled right up to my desk, twirling his moustache theatrically as he said, "Darlin', I only wear a belt buckle this size so as to not intimidate anyone with the size of my own equipment."

"That might be," I replied, "but George, I could never go out with a cowboy," I noted breathlessly, pausing for effect before continuing, "they only ever want to ride for 8 seconds before they get off."

George stared at me incredulously for a few seconds, the wheels in his head undoubtedly spinning furiously until he gently took my hand and kissed it chivalrously as he replied, "My dear, as the immortal Kenny Rogers said, you've got to know when to fold 'em and know when to walk away and I think after this morning, I've met my match. All the best to you with your new job, it has truly been a pleasure," he responded, bidding me adieu with a tip of his hat.

"Well what do you know? Maybe men are trainable after all." Veronica whispered quietly as we took in George's surprisingly debonair departure.

Maybe Veronica was right but, if that was the case, I clearly had yet to master use of the 'stay' command.
Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome – Issac Asimov

51. The next couple of days came and went agonizingly slowly and without so much as even a quick email from Jonathan to let me know that he had arrived safely.

Or, perhaps more to the point, to inquire how I was doing.

I wasn't 100% sure whether Kazakhstan had embraced the internet and email yet, (okay, truthfully if someone had told me that the typical mode of transportation there was a Porsche or a dog sled, I would have believed it either way) but regardless, I was determined not to put myself out there again and I had decided that, no matter what, the next communication between us was going to have to come from him.

Realizing that my willpower was likely going to ebb and flow in direct correlation to my alcohol intake, I had gone so far as to hand over my phone to Elyse and Veronica prior to two separate girls' nights in order to prevent any further lapses in judgement.

While I was doing my best to put on a brave face in front of my girls, both my psyche and my liver were in rough shape by the time I arrived for work on Wednesday morning.

As such, when my head started pounding and my eyes suddenly went blurry a few hours later while I was hard at work browsing through Facebook updates at my computer, I chalked it up to severe dehydration.

In an attempt to rectify the situation, I immediately popped up to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. Unfortunately, no sooner had I got to my feet than the room started to swirl crazily beneath me and I could feel my legs struggling to keep me upright.

Veronica caught me by the arm as I began what would have been a rapid descent towards the floor and I could hear the concern in her voice as she asked me what was wrong.

Excellent question!

Outside of some minor nuisances like not being able to see anything and the spike that someone seemed to be trying to drive through my head, no complaints here.

"I'm not sure. All of a sudden, my vision started to go a bit blurry and my head started pounding. I thought I was just dehydrated from last night but my legs don't seem to want to cooperate now either," I replied, trying my best to hide the paralyzing wave of fear that had suddenly washed over me, leaving me shivering uncontrollably.

Hmm, perhaps this wasn't the ideal time to be parting ways with my extended health benefits after all?

"Oh my God! It sounds like you could be having a stroke!" Veronica screeched, her suggestion doing nothing to ease my shattered nerves.

"I'm calling you an ambulance. Stay right where you are," Veronica commanded me as she frantically searched for a phone.

As I currently couldn't see or stand, staying put was not going to be a significant hardship.

Twenty minutes later, after a frantic ride to Vancouver General, I was rushed through the admitting process (thank goodness for small miracles) and I soon felt a vast array of electrodes being attached all over my body in preparation for what I was told by a voice whose owner I couldn't yet identify was going to be an ECG test.

I have never been particularly impressive when it came to standardized testing but, just this once, I would be absolutely ecstatic to be told that I was right in the meaty part of the curve.

After I recounted recent events and my symptoms to the faceless voices in the room, I heard the most welcome words of my life...

"So, the good news is, everything appears to be normal with your test results."

I had had very few people accuse me of being normal prior to this moment, but I was utterly relieved to hear it now.

"Oh my God, I can't tell you how happy I am to hear you say that," I replied, taking a few big gulps of air after momentarily having forgotten to breathe.

"Wait, if the tests came back negative, then what's causing all of these symptoms?" I inquired apprehensively.

"That's an excellent question. You mentioned that you aren't on any medications, so we are ruling out a bad reaction for now. However, there is something called a migraine variant that can mimic many of the symptoms of a stroke. Are you prone to migraines?

Only on bad blind dates that required a quick exit.

"No, I get the occasional headache, but it's never been anything too serious," I replied, my curiosity piqued as to what had brought this all on.

"How has your stress level been lately? Sometimes people don't even get a headache with this variation but the symptoms that you experienced can be brought on by extreme stress."

Oh no, you've got to be kidding me! I'm lying in an emergency room because I'm suffering from an acutely broken heart? I wonder if there is a pharmaceutical grade Ben & Jerry's that they can prescribe?

"Well, I did break up with my boyfriend a few days ago," I replied timidly, mortified by the idea that my heartbreak may have somehow completely incapacitated me.

"Ah, I see. That certainly could be the cause of this type of reaction depending on how it may have elevated your stress levels. But don't worry, you should be fine in a few hours," the voice next to me said as I got a reassuring pat on the arm.

Unless there was a pill that wipes out unpleasant memories and mends broken hearts, I wasn't going to hold my breath.

"Thanks so much Doctor, that's such a relief to hear," I replied with all the enthusiasm that I could muster.

Well, at least I now had incontrovertible proof that dating was indeed hazardous to one's health, but hey, what was life without a little adventure...
Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once – anonymous

52. The next day, having experienced an all-too-realistic preview of a brush with death, and with only two days left under Maggie's reign of terror, I felt justified in being a teensy bit later than usual in arriving for work.

Unfortunately, my leisurely morning quickly came back to bite me in the butt as, before I had even had a chance to turn on my computer and check the day's schedule, I glanced up from behind my desk and immediately found myself face to face with the brooding countenance of Sean Donovan.

A smirk played across his face as I looked up and inhaled sharply, startled by his sudden and unexpected reappearance in my life. I could feel myself blushing as he leered down at me unabashedly.

"Hi Sean, how was Fiji? Looks like you got a bit of sun while you were there." I stammered as I tried to compose myself.

Three weeks on a tropical island certainly hadn't done anything to hurt his allure. His skin appeared to have bronzed nicely; the contrast making his steely grey eyes appear even more intense than usual.

However, the fact that he blatantly aimed them wherever he seemed to damn well please wasn't doing much of anything to help me recover my composure.

"It was hot and humid, day and night, for three weeks straight. Your clothes just cling to your body. It's a shame that you weren't there," he replied, his eyes once again veering southward, wordlessly illustrating his point.

Unnerved by Sean's unrelenting gaze, I was about to mutter some excuse about being trapped at work when I felt something inside me snap.

I held Sean's gaze for a moment, mentally mulling over the train wreck that my personal life had become before overtly leaning over the desk on my elbows as I retorted, "Are you sure that you could have handled me for three weeks? I'm just coming into my prime, whereas yourself...not so much."

For the first time since we had crossed paths, Sean had no words and he stared back at me, incredulous that I had responded in such a manner.

"Anyway, as it turns out, my situation has changed a bit during the last three weeks and Friday is going to be my last day here. So, if you still want to buy me that drink..." I let the implied offer hang in the air as I slowly traced my tongue over my lower lip.

Elyse would have been beaming like a proud parent if she had caught that performance. I hadn't been sure if I had it in me to match Sean's brashness, but once I decided to throw caution to the wind, the sensation was absolutely intoxicating.

In the past, I wouldn't have given a guy like Sean the time of day. However, having chased Jonathan off to the other side of the world without so much as an email since, my ego was sorely in need of a boost. Besides, what harm could come from a little flirting?

Sean's face was still registering a look of shock but it was slowly replaced by a predicable cocksure grin as he replied, "Alright, I'm a man of my word. I'm downtown all day. Why don't you let me know when you're about to get off and we can meet up at Hemingway's if you're still feeling like a stiff one."

Hmm, it was possible that I was going to have to tone down his expectations (and perhaps my own witty repartee) at some point, but there was no reason that couldn't wait until after a couple of cocktails.

Completely disregarding the voice in the back of my head, which was currently screaming a stream of expletives at me, I replied, "I've been in need of one for a while now but I can survive until this afternoon. I'll send you a text when I'm ready for you."

Sean looked at me as if he was about to retort, then, as he shook his head gently, he replied, "Alright, this should be interesting."

I knew that going for drinks with Sean was akin to tossing fresh meat in front of a hungry lion, but it had been far too long since anyone had mauled me.

Besides, at this point, what did I have to lose?
Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore – L. Frank Baum

53. By the time 4 p.m. rolled around, most of my initial feistiness had worn off and it had been replaced with a daunting sense of trepidation. I sat at my desk after closing up the office, tapping my foot nervously as I mulled over my options.

It didn't take long.

By the time I had come to the realization that drinking alone was not in the budget for the night, it was clear what I had to do.

Although I had notionally known Sean for months, I still knew practically nothing about him, and it was fair to say that none of the rumours I had heard about him exactly screamed 'boyfriend material'.

On the other hand, if the last month had taught me anything it was that, even with the best prospects, dating does not come with any guarantees.

Having agreed to meet at Hemingway's at 5 p.m., I gave Sean ample time to bail before I finally strolled in to the bar around twenty after.

By the time I spotted Sean slouched in a corner, I wasn't entirely sure if I if was excited, anxious, or some combination of the two.

"As promised," his gravelly voice greeted me as he pushed a shot in my direction.

No please, don't bother putting in any effort to get up to greet me or anything. This clearly was not going to be a 'holding out my chair for me' sort of situation.

"How thoughtful of you," I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

At least this should help calm my nerves a bit, I thought to myself, as I reached out to grab hold of the shot glass.

"Bottoms up," Sean exclaimed salaciously as we clinked glasses.

It was going to take a lot more than one shot before he got me in that sort of position.

"Bottoms up? I hope you weren't expecting me to be that easy," I retorted sassily as I eased back in my chair, coyly crossing my legs as I felt the alcohol slide down my throat, the warmth spreading across my body.

"To be honest, I wasn't even expecting you to show. So you've already exceeded my expectations for the night," Sean responded caustically as he flagged down a waitress with a wave of his hand.

The attitude that Sean kept tossing my way was causing me to do a slow burn in my seat but, despite the irritation I was feeling towards him, I still couldn't help wanting to disprove his opinion of me.

Sensing my opportunity, I jumped in before Sean could order the next round as I caught the waitress' eye and said, "Hi there, could you bring us two glasses of Pyrat Cask 1623, straight up, thanks," before sitting back with a bemused smile on my face as Sean stared at me with a look of consternation.

I had spent enough time as a waitress to have a working knowledge of high-end liquor, but I wasn't planning on divulging the source of my knowledge to Sean anytime soon.

"You know your liquor," Sean eventually responded with a begrudging smile.

"I'm a fountain of knowledge; I just have to be asked the right questions. But for a smart guy, you seem to have made a lot of assumptions about me instead," I retorted, doing my best to put him on the spot.

"So, are you trying to tell me that there's more to you than meets the eye," Sean countered as his eyes once again journeyed southward with the determination of a goose heading south for the winter.

Unfortunately for him, there was a storm on the horizon that was about to put a halt to that journey.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, although you're never going to find out for yourself if you don't start looking in places other than where you're currently staring," I replied, keeping my voice flat as Sean violently jerked his head upwards to meet my gaze.

Did I see a hint of colour rising in his cheeks? Maybe there was a beating heart lurking somewhere deep beneath that cold, hard veneer after all.

"Excellent timing," Sean responded, thanking our waitress earnestly as she arrived with our drinks.

"Alright, to new beginnings then," Sean said, raising a glass to me. "I'm finally done with this divorce and now I can get on with the rest of my life. Who knows, maybe you'll end up starting me down a new path," he continued, sounding as dubious as I was about that proposition.

"I'll drink to that idea," I replied, as we again clinked glasses.

"So, you said you were changing jobs? What position are you moving on to?" he inquired, making a concerted effort to sound interested in something other than my bra size.

"Well, I was an English major in university and I've always wanted to find a role in publishing. As it turned out, a friend of mine has a connection in the industry and I found the perfect role for myself as a publicity specialist with a local publishing house. I'll be responsible for setting up in-person media events for authors and I'll also be creating social media content," I replied, embellishing my duties just a smidge.

I figured that a little white lie has never hurt anyone and, if it helped to keep his gaze above my neck for a few minutes, it would have been well worth it.

"So, if I was looking for a publisher for my memoirs, are you going to be the one trying to sway me to sign?" Sean replied with a bemused smile.

"It depends on whether you have any stories worth telling. So far, I haven't heard enough about you to figure that out yet," I retorted, grazing his leg with the tip of my shoe, hoping that a little positive reinforcement might help persuade him to open up a bit.

"I'm getting a bit hungry. Why don't you come back to my boat for dinner and you can ask me anything you want. Are you game?" Sean inquired, his face expressionless as the offer hung in the air like a lure dangling in front of a famished fish.

Sean's offer seemed tempting from a distance but I was afraid that, if I bit, I was the one that was going to get swallowed whole.

After mentally mulling over the offer for as long as I dared, I gave a resigned sigh before I replied, "Okay, just dinner though, and I'm wearing a life jacket for protection from anything I might encounter on the water, ocean-dwelling or otherwise."
There are people who have money and people who are rich – Coco Chanel

54. After a short drive to the marina, we arrived at the dock and it immediately became apparent that I wasn't going to have to spend too much time worrying about falling overboard.

Sean's boat was closer to being a floating mansion than the sail boat I had been imagining.

"This ship is amazing!" I exclaimed, as I peered inside in complete and utter awe.

Sean's expansive dining area was easily bigger than my condo, and it was evident that no expense had been spared in furnishing it.

"Thanks. Natasha took the house in the divorce, but I didn't really care. After going through this process with her, I have absolutely no intention of being tied down to any person or location, so this is perfect for me. I can tell the captain to leave tonight and we would be halfway to California by the morning," Sean replied forcefully, handing me a glass of wine as we stared out at the stars twinkling above English Bay.

What do we have here? Was that a glimmer of genuine emotion emanating from him? Up until now, I hadn't even been sure that he was capable of that sort of thing.

"That's an interesting piece of information to trot out for a woman that you've invited back to your place for dinner. I hope you're not planning on kidnapping me. I'm not sure how I would be able to explain that one to my new boss," I retorted sassily, with more conviction than I felt.

In all honesty, what girl couldn't use a private cruise down to California in the middle of winter?

As I gazed out at the ocean from the bow of Sean's fabulous floating mansion, it wasn't hard to see why he craved this sort of freedom.

No landlord to worry about each month, no boss to report to every day; just limitless opportunities to travel anywhere that had a (large) dock nearby. The thought of that type of personal autonomy was enough to make me wish I knew how to use a computer for something other than shopping or updating my Facebook status.

Maybe Sean and I could team up create a new shoe design site? I had certainly enjoyed my first experience. I'm sure there were enough women, and probably men as well, that would be willing to pony up a little bit more than normal for the ability to create their own unique design?

"No worries, I promise I'll have you back on dry land by morning," Sean replied, far too presumptuously for my liking.

Where does he get off thinking he's going to be diving into my deep end just because he's got a yacht?

Although I had to admit, it certainly didn't make him any less appealing...

"I'm not sure that I like your odds of keeping me in moist environs tonight either," I fired back, determined not to let him see me as just another easy conquest as he attempted to repair his ego in the wake of his recently finalized divorce.

"Wow, did you feel a sudden chill in the air or was it just me?" Sean retorted as he downed the rest of his drink.

"Why don't we head inside and see if we can find a way to warm things up," he replied, casually slipping an arm around my waist.

"Perfect, I can't wait for dinner. I'm starving!" I replied, doing my best to deflect Sean's innuendo.

Given the circumstances, continue the night on a full stomach seemed like a wise idea, particularly as I couldn't help but notice that Sean's well-muscled arm had already started to meander southward as we wandered inside.

As soon as we stepped back inside the yacht, I was overcome by a delightfully intoxicating aroma.

Turning towards Sean, I asked, "Do you have something cooking already?"

I hadn't pegged him as having much in the way of culinary skills, but it certainly would have been a welcome surprise. Then again, I wasn't in a position to say much of anything as Elyse and I rarely used our oven for anything other than occasional emergency shoe storage space.

Giving me a look of stunned disbelief, Sean replied, "I don't cook, but my chef is the best. I hardly ever eat out anymore if I'm anywhere near my boat."

Of course. What was I thinking?

Who owns a yacht and doesn't have a private chef, right? I'm sure the other yacht people would have laughed him out of the marina if he had shown up without one.

It was quickly becoming apparent that Sean and I were living in two very different realities but, the more I got a chance to take a peek at his, I couldn't help thinking that it wasn't all that unappealing...

"So, what's on the menu for tonight? It smells amazing," I responded quickly, not wanting to dwell on my little faux pas.

"I'm not sure but why don't we find out," Sean replied, guiding me into the galley in an increasingly hands on fashion.

"Manuel, can you let Ms. Graham know what's on the menu for tonight?" Sean inquired of a compact, swarthy looking man who was markedly perspiring under a shaggy mane of dark hair while actively bouncing between the massive grill and a couple of exquisite, built-in, ovens.

Taking in the various sights and aromas, I couldn't help thinking that Manuel might have been the missing ingredient in my own culinary exploits.

How is it that every kitchen doesn't come equipped with a personal chef? That definitely wasn't mentioned as an optional upgrade the last time I browsed through a Home Depot.

"Sure thing," he replied with a hint of an accent that I couldn't quite place, wiping the sweat from his brow as he turned towards us.

"We've got a seafood Bouillabaisse prepared with chunks of halibut, shrimp, crab, mussels and a saffron wine sauce to start, followed by Alaskan King Crab legs served with a medley of vegetables and served on a bed of kale, and a Valrhona Chocolate Symphony for dessert with baked manjari chocolate cake, bitter-sweet cocao sorbet and burnt chai crémeux."

Even though Manuel's description of dessert was a step beyond my culinary grasp, my mouth started to water just trying to imagine it.

"Do you think that will satisfy you?" Sean inquired curtly as he dipped a spoon into the bouillabaisse.

"I suppose if that's all that you have in stock, it'll have to do," I retorted half-heartedly, my mind was still firmly focused on the upcoming Chocolate Symphony.

As Manuel opened one of the ovens, an aromatic burst of chocolaty goodness drifted out and immediately captured my attention.

Beethoven may have had his Ode to Joy, but my symphony was going to be an Ode to Chocolate!

Chocolate, when I'm with you I feel complete,

Not just there to eat, you're so obviously a treat,

Yet it's hard to be discrete, when you taste oh so sweet.

Sensual, dark and forbidden,

It's clear why I have to keep our love hidden.

I would lie and tell you that I just want a bite,

But we both know I want you to spend the night.

Hmm, I wonder if it would be tacky to ask if we could start with dessert?
Women might be able to fake orgasms. But men can fake a whole relationship – Sharon Stone

55. As we emerged from the galley, it quickly became evident to me that Sean's expansive dining room was going to go unused tonight as Sean guided me upstairs and politely ushered me over to a small, candle-lit table that had been set up on the top deck for dinner.

As I sat down, I really wanted to believe that it was the inner, and thus far well concealed, romantic in him that had brought us up there to dine under the stars.

However, as I gazed around, I couldn't help thinking that the enormous hot tub lurking ominously at the other end of the deck might have somehow influenced the choice of venue for our meal.

Deciding then and there that I wasn't going swimming with a shark unless I knew there was some sort of spark, I asked as we sat down to our steaming bowls of bouillabaisse, "So, now that everything with your divorce is finalized, what are you going to do with yourself? Do you have any projects in the works or are you retired for now?"

Note to self - I really need to find out who his financial planner is.

Thirty-five seemed like the perfect age to kick back and enjoy the fruits of my years of labour yet, for some reason, my guy at the bank continually insisted on talking about a freedom 85 plan for me.

"I'm not too sure yet. Bill Gates can be a pretty generous guy when he decides that there's a product on the market that he needs, so I'm pretty much set for life financially. Right now I'm just going to enjoy each day and see what comes along. I really haven't made any plans than extend past dinner... or perhaps dessert," he replied as he shot a surreptitious glance in the direction of the hot tub.

Following his gaze, I couldn't help shuddering as I wondered how regularly he had that thing sanitized. Judging by the wistful expression on Sean's face, I was fairly sure that I wasn't the first date he had brought up here for "dinner".

"Mmm, I know what you mean; I'm so excited for that Chocolate Symphony as well. Having a chef around all the time has got to really test your will power," I responded, doing my best to appear completely oblivious to his overtures.

"I do what I can to try to find ways to burn off calories. I'm getting the impression that you don't give in to your urges too often though, eh?" he retorted, clearly having difficulty keeping his frustration simmering below deck level.

"That's so sweet of you to say! I had a birthday recently and I did actually indulge a bit when my girls took me out for dinner but I'm happy to hear that it doesn't show," I responded coyly, knowing full well that Sean was seething in his seat, unable to successfully steer the conversation in the direction that he was so doggedly attempting to point it in.

"No, it doesn't show at all. In fact, I would have to say that you look like you're ready for swimsuit season," he replied, trying a different tack to lead me down the garden path.

"I don't know, I think I still have to tighten things up a bit back here, don't you think?" I replied as I stood up and discretely pointed my derriere in Sean's direction while leaning against the table for just long enough for him to take in the view before I returned to my seat as I said, "Thank goodness I still have a few months before things warm up, huh?"

"Indeed. Can I top up your wine?" Sean offered, as Manuel materialized with the crab legs.

"Thanks, that's so thoughtful of you. You're such a gentleman," I replied with a salacious giggle.

Could he be any more obvious?

"These crab legs look amazing. Manuel seems like pretty good find," I mentioned casually as we both dug into our meal.

"He's the best. These claws are a bit of work to get past though, aren't they," Sean replied.

"But it's so moist and tender once you get inside," I responded after taking a bite, letting a dewdrop of butter linger on my lips until I slowly licked it off, swirling my tongue tantalizingly.

Admittedly, putting ideas in Sean's head may not have been the most direct route to a long lasting, meaningful relationship. However, since I was convinced that those ideas were swirling around his imagination anyway, I didn't see the harm in teasing him a little bit...

Sean reached for another leg, his eyes never leaving my face as he murmured, "Moist you say, eh," as his crab cracker sent a shell pin-wheeling over the side of the boat.

"Very. It just takes a little patience to get in there," I replied as I delicately cracked another shell, spearing the meat and tipping my head back before I leisurely sucked the meat into my mouth and pointedly licked my fingers.

Sean forcefully cracked another leg by hand, splintering the shell as I turned to wink at him.

I was feeling a bit more comfortable now that I had some food in me and the wine had taken the edge off my nerves.

Sean was still a complete and utter enigma but it was gratifying to know that I had the ability to get under his skin and provoke some sort of response from him. With a little bit of luck and a couple more bottles of wine, perhaps I might even get him to share something personal about himself.

Oh the sacrifices women have to make to start a meaningful relationship!

"I think that after waiting a year for this process to finally end, I might have exhausted all the restraint I possess. Every time I walked through the door to your offices, I thought I was going to snap. Don't you think I deserve some sort of reward for holding it together through all of that?" Sean asked with an earnest grin before reaching for his wine.

"Perhaps, but before we talk about rewards or get to dessert, I wanted to ask you something. It's a bit personal though, so don't feel obligated to answer," I replied, sensing that he might finally be ready to open up and hoping to seize the opportunity to satisfy my curiosity about some of the rumours I had heard.

"Fire away, I don't have anything to hide," Sean replied, gazing at me with curiosity.

That seemed highly unlikely, but there was only one way to find out.

Taking a deep breath, I plunged forward, asking, "Well, I had heard rumours floating around the office that infidelity claims were made in your proceeding. Do you mind if I ask if that's true?"

Hmm, was that question possibly a tiny bit too personal to be asking on a first date?

Even if it was, I figured that I should know what I was getting myself into given how eager Sean appeared to be to get to dessert.

Sean scowled at me for a moment before turning away and looking out at the water, apparently deep in thought, taking his time as he pondered my question.

The silence was deafening and by the time Sean finally looked back at me, my nerves were a bit frayed. I couldn't help but wonder just how much my question had irritated him?

"So, I guess client confidentiality goes out the window when it comes to water cooler gossip, eh?" he finally replied, tersely.

Clearly not expecting a response from me, Sean continued on, sighing as he said, "Yeah, there was an infidelity issue, no question about it."

He paused for a moment, looking skyward before asking, "I'm sure you heard about Natasha's job in Japan right?" he asked, waiting for my nod before continuing, "As it turns out, a couple of the businessmen she had met over there kept in touch with her and uh, likewise for her with them I guess you could say," he concluded with a wry smile.

Ah, so this is what foot in mouth tastes like.

Frick! How could Paul have not told me it was Natasha that was cheating? And was he tearing up? This was getting awkward!

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I hadn't realized. All of the rumours I had heard were that you were the one who had..." my voice trailed off as my face flushed the same color as my wine.

It was quickly becoming apparent that the more I said, the deeper the hole I was digging for myself to attempt to crawl out of.

"Don't worry about it. I've heard all the millionaire playboy rumours before. But I was never unfaithful to her, not once. I was all in with her until I caught her in a lie. But, once everything came out and I found out what she had been doing...well, I'm not the 'forgive and forget' type," he concluded, before distantly staring off into space again.

Hmm, so much for women's intuition. I wonder if it's too late to sign up for a remedial course?

"Well, I guess now you can put all of that behind you and move on to better things, right?" I said with a forced smile, trying to shift the conversation onto a new topic as quickly as humanly possible.

Somehow Sean tearing up over his ex just had not crossed my mind as a possibility. Sort of like the prospect of him being the faithful party in their relationship.

But did that mean I was destined to just be a rebound? And, if so, was that really any better than being just another girl in a long line of conquests? At least before Sean's revelation I thought I had a pretty good idea of what I was getting in to.

Since when were guys allowed to be complicated anyway?

"That's the idea," Sean responded with an equally forced smile just as Manuel arrived with dessert.

"More wine?" Sean inquired, not bothering to wait for a response as he filled both our glasses.

He might as well just give me the bottle.

"Well, maybe just a teensy bit more..."
When choosing between two evils, I always like to try the one I've never tried before – Mae West

56. As awkward as Sean's forced disclosure had been, as soon as Manuel laid the Chocolate Symphony out on the table, I could feel some of the tension dissipate behind the mountain of chocolaty treats.

Like an addict on the verge of getting a fix, I was having trouble focusing on anything other than indulging in my craving and my fingers were practically trembling as I lifted the first forkful of manjari cake to my lips.

"You're making me jealous of that cake," Sean declared as he enviously watched me savour the first bite with a broad smile on his face.

"Maybe you should be. I don't know if any man has ever left me feeling this satisfied before," I replied as I sat back, tracing my tongue across my upper lip to catch a bit of icing.

"It seems a bit unfair to reach that conclusion without giving me any time in the kitchen, don't you think?" he responded plaintively.

"Hmm, that's funny, I could have sworn that you told me that you don't know how to cook," I retorted sassily as I reached for a spoonful of the cocao sorbet.

"I didn't mean that I don't know how to handle the appliances when an insatiable hunger arises and I'm craving immediate gratification," Sean replied as he leaned forward and began gently caressing my calf under the table with his hand.

After taking a quick glance around to ensure that nobody was lurking in the shadows, I retorted, "I'm sort of relieved to hear that you don't go running off to Manuel for assistance when those needs pop up, even if he is kinda cute."

Sean glared at me, his jaw firmly clenched as he started to respond, but he clearly thought better of his original answer and he instead sank back in his chair, his demeanour softening as he replied, "Funny you should ask. He was actually starting to look a bit better to me after we split a case of beer the other night, but at the end of the day, I have a strict rule about only fooling around with people who are less hairy that I am, so he was out of luck. We can't help who we're attracted to, right?"

No argument here. If we could, I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't be sitting here on this floating mansion with a guy that had literally only hours previously concluded his divorce proceedings.

On the other hand, he hadn't been quite as arrogant or as obnoxious as I expected and he hadn't run off to another country yet, so he was miles ahead of some of the previous men in my life...

Speaking of which, Jonathan was still an open wound festering in my heart. The complete lack of a resolution to our relationship was resulting in an enduring ache and even Sean's high-end liquor hadn't quite been able to completely numb that particular pain.

Really, would it have killed the guy just to fire off an email?

Even if he had only wrote to confirm that it was over or that he was moving on, it would have been so much easier to let myself enjoy Sean's company without all these nagging doubts bouncing around in my head.

Then again, it was hard to convince myself that Jonathan leaving for another country wasn't a reasonably clear sign that things were not moving in a favourable direction for our relationship.

Gazing around at my surroundings, I quickly decided that I needed to focus on the here and now as I responded, "That's true, and it is hard to deny a physical attraction when it's there," grinning at him as I coyly sipped my wine.

Sean had always possessed a certain raw animal magnetism and the glimpses of vulnerability that I caught from him, no matter how hard it was for him to show it, had done nothing to lessen his allure in my eyes.

That he seemed to think enough of me to make an effort to be civil and open up a bit wasn't hurting his chances either.

Well, that or it was also possible that he was willing to do whatever it took to get laid tonight, no matter how much it went against his true nature.

Hmm, on second thought, perhaps it was best not to overthink this.

"You know, it's a perfect night for a soak if you feel like unwinding a bit after that meal," Sean noted as he nonchalantly leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head as he gazed at me.

The cockiness that had continuously been on display during our previous encounters was making a sudden, and not necessarily undesired, reappearance.

"I'm not sure if any of your swimsuits will fit me," I retorted, knowing full well what his response was going to be.

"If you prefer to go without, I'm happy to dress to match if it would make you more comfortable?" he countered smugly.

Quelle surprise.

"That's so gracious of you but I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble on my account," I replied, the sarcasm dripping from my tongue.

"It's no trouble at all, really. What sort of a host would I be if I didn't do whatever I could to make my guests feel comfortable, right?" Sean responded, a cocky grin spreading across his face as he downed the rest of his drink.

Frick, I knew that this offer had been inevitable since the moment I set foot on the boat, but that foresight wasn't making my decision any easier.

As my imagination cranked out an image of Jonathan cuddling by a roaring fire with a Kournikova-esque beauty I gave a resigned sigh as I said, "Okay, but crank up the bubbles first and no peeking!"

And one step further into the lion's gaping maw we go...
If you do what you've always done, you'll get what you've always gotten – Tony Robbins

57. As soon as I had submerged myself into the exquisitely hot water and beneath the foaming froth, the layers of trepidation that I had cocooned myself in start to float away.

Sean clearly wasn't the type to spare any expense when it came to his toys and my body was immediately inundated by an exquisite array of jets magically massaging every muscle of my body.

When coupled with some dazzling underwater lighting and a mellow house soundtrack that was immersing us from all angles, I couldn't help thinking that I could get used to this.

The starlit venue wasn't too shabby either as Sean had thoughtfully turned off all of the visible lights on board the ship, leaving only the twinkling stars and a perfect full moon to light up the night sky.

Although I made a half-hearted attempt to courteously shield my eyes as Sean hopped in across from me, my fingers just weren't willing to come together all the way for some reason.

How odd.

It must have been a muscle spasm or something.

Luckily for me, the view was well worth my troubles and I was reasonably certain that it wasn't just the water temperature that had caused me to gasp.

"How's the temperature? You're looking a bit flushed over there," Sean noted, grinning at me as he stretched out, resting his arms behind him and playfully running the tips of his toes up the inside of my calf.

"There are some things in life that take a little getting used to but I'm sure I'll be just fine. You look like you need to cool off a bit though," I replied, playfully splashing some water in his direction.

Hopefully there was also some KY somewhere in the vicinity to assist with the adjustment process in case tonight's proceedings should head in that direction though because apparently the yacht was not an attempt to overcompensate for anything.

"And here I thought the idea of us getting wet was to heat things up a bit," Sean retorted as he slid his arms under my legs and gently pulled me towards him, bracing me with his arms to keep me upright until I floated across and into his lap, my lips coming to a rest on his.

Once our lips finally parted, I ran my fingers through his hair before pulling his head towards me spiritedly as I whispered in his ear, "I'm just relieved to hear that you weren't planning on getting me all wet for nothing."

Was that a bit bold?

No doubt about it.

However, since the timid, well-mannered version of myself had somehow managed to chase the best prospect that I had ever encountered halfway around the globe and there hadn't been so much as a peep from him since, if there was ever a perfect time to change my approach, this was it.

I suppose it was possible that polishing off that bottle of wine in short succession to our drinks at the bar was lending a helping hand in bringing out the new me as well.

Sean slid back as he raised me up partially out of the water, his muscular arms bulging as he held me up over him. While I was suspended on top of him, his lips began to thoroughly and ardently explore my neck and breasts and I could palpably feel his excitement growing as he whispered in my ear, "I'm never a tease. I always aim to please."

Between what I had seen earlier and what I could feel pressed firmly up against me now, I didn't have any doubts about that whatsoever.

"You're a poet and I didn't even know it," I moaned as I rubbed myself against his engorged member as it pulsed against my lips. I could feel myself starting to tingle as the friction intensified with every movement and my body was yearning for more.

Not willing to wait any longer, I reached down to guide Sean inside me, only to discover that he had abruptly stopped moving.

Confused by the unexpected turn of events, I lifted my head and reluctantly opened my eyes, my body ablaze and ready for Sean to make good on his promise.

However, as my gaze caught sight of his face, I noticed that his countenance had changing dramatically and, sadly for me, not for the better.

His jaw was now firmly clenched as he stoically replied in a whisper, "Natasha left me for a poet. That no talent wannabe hippy didn't have a cent to his name and now he's got half my money along with my wife."

You've got to be kidding me!

One stupid, innocuous little comment while I'm grinding on top of him and that's all it took for him to want to have a chat about his ex-wife?!

How was it that these conversations kept happening whenever I happened to be naked and straddling someone? This was so NOT what my ego needed tonight.

"Sorry but this isn't not going to happen," Sean continued, his eyes glistening as he brusquely lifted me off him and blankly stared off into space.

FML!

If I ever write an autobiography, I'm pretty sure that Sean's last line was going to be my title!
I like villains because there's something so attractive about a committed person. They have a plan, an ideology, no matter how twisted – Russel Crowe

58. As I stumbled into the office the next morning with my hair askew, my head pounding from yet another brutal hangover and my self-confidence shattered from yet another failed romantic entanglement, I couldn't help thinking that this was not how I expected to feel walking into the office on my last day of indentured servitude under Maggie's reign of terror.

"Whoa, are you going out of your way to make your departure less painful for us?" Paul D'Antoni asked, having wandered up to my desk and recoiling in mock horror after he glanced at me and noticed my resplendent morning-after mien.

As I sent the staple remover that had been sitting on my desk whizzing past his head, I retorted, "Seeing as how you were never able to get me to succumb to your limited charm after all these years, I didn't think it wouldn't be fair to leave you heartbroken and pining away for me after I leave. So, after hours of effort, I've managed to go from stunning to the shambles you currently see before you today."

Not only that but all I had to show for last night's efforts was a food baby that was looking distressingly close to being ready for delivery.

How was that fair?

"Even on her worst day, Anna's still miles out of your league Paul," Veronica interjected, coming to my aide with a much needed ego boost before quickly snatching it away again as she quietly whispered in my ear, "Hun, my makeup bag is in my bottom desk drawer. I'll cover for you with Maggie if you want to step out for a minute before any clients come in."

Fabulous.

Apparently I looked so hideous that I was practically being shown the door so that I didn't scare the clients away.

As I hurriedly rummaged through Veronica's drawer looking for her bag, I was far too distracted to notice Maggie's rapidly approaching footsteps coming from down the hall.

"There you all are. Has Anna come in yet?" Maggie's gravelly voice cracked through the air like a whip.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" I exclaimed far more loudly than I intended as I abruptly lifted my head, banging it off the edge of Veronica's desk and managing to leave a nice red welt in the middle of my forehead to distract everyone from my general state of dishevelment.

"Ah, there you are Anna. Please do try to keep your cursing to a minimum when clients start to arrive but if you all have a moment to join me in the main boardroom, I thought we should commemorate Anna's last day with us," Maggie continued, a rueful smile briefly flickering across her face as she took in my appearance.

Wonderful.

Nothing like a little public humiliation to start one's day.

I trudged into the boardroom, trailing behind everyone else and looking very much like prisoner on her way to the gallows.

But didn't prisoners at least get to wear a black mask? That probably would have come in handy right about now.

As I begrudgingly shuffled into the room, I saw that my departure had attracted a full house. Veronica, Paul, Heather, Maggie and the full roster of our mediators had all managed to find the time to see me off.

While it was gratifying to know that I (or possibly the large, half empty box of donuts sitting on the table) had meant enough to everyone to spare a few moments a Friday morning to see me off, it was equally horrifying to know that I currently stood before them all while very much resembling Lindsay Lohan in all her mug shot splendor.

On the bright side, I was fairly certain that I was blushing so badly by the time that Maggie began speaking that the rest of my face was undoubtedly the same crimson colour as the red welt in the middle of my forehead.

Clearing her throat to get everyone's attention, Maggie began, "Everyone, as you undoubtedly all know by now, Anna has decided that she would prefer to attempt to put her rather unique skill set to better use elsewhere. Although it's hard to fathom, Anna has somehow been with us for over three years now and, despite the occasional missed message or office equipment incident, I'm sure we can all agree that the impetuous nature and distinctive personal charm that she brought to her role will not easily be forgotten. Even though, as you can all see today, her punctuality and early morning deportment have occasionally left something to be desired, I can honestly say that I've never had another employee quite like her. So, please join me in wishing Anna and her upcoming employers the best of luck with her future endeavours."

As Maggie mercifully concluded her verbal assault to some slow, scattered applause and a room full of bewildered faces, she turned to me and asked, "Anna, is there anything that you would like to say?"

Seriously? You really want to give me a public pulpit to get up there and respond after roasting me in front of all my co-workers?

Taking a deep breath and mentally reminding myself that I might need to get a reference from her someday, I caught a reassuring smile from Veronica and I grinned back at her as I said, "I'm really not quite sure what to say after such a sincere and heart-felt send off."

But perhaps you could slither back into your lair for an hour or so and try really hard not to notice when your ears start burning while I give it my best shot.

"As you all know, this was my first real job and I've learned some valuable lessons during my time here," I continued as I glanced at Heather.

Such as never put one's faith in a pair of five-year-old miscreants.

As my gaze turned to Paul, I grinned salaciously as I said, "And, as Maggie has already subtly alluded to, there might have been a few missteps and errors in judgement along the way."

That been said, how else does one figure out that perching oneself on top of a photocopier whilst wearing a skirt may not be a stellar career move?

"But I've been lucky enough to meet some amazing people and I wouldn't trade the experiences that I've shared with all of you for anything. Thank you so much for coming out to send me off. I'm going to miss all of you!" I exclaimed, anxious to get out of the spotlight as soon as possible.

Okay, maybe that last sentiment applied more whole heartedly to some than to others, but I was confident that, with the right amount of liquor, Maggie's roast was going to turn from horrifyingly embarrassing to mildly amusing and I was totally willing to conduct the necessary research to find out exactly how many drinks that was going to take!
I don't drink these days. I am allergic to alcohol and narcotics. I break out in handcuffs – Robert Downey Jr.

59. The next day, after I had made the slow swim back towards consciousness and waded through the foggy mist that seemed to have invaded the inner workings of my mind, I was quickly and painfully reminded of the value of proper hydration.

Veronica had taken me out for drinks after work to commemorate the end of our working partnership and, true to my word, I had indeed managed to figure out how many drinks it took before I could laugh at Maggie's shocking send off.

Unfortunately, in one of life's little ironies, the number had been large enough to have completely wiped any trace of it from my memory.

Thankfully my phone's memory was slightly less susceptible to the effects of Pinot Noir than my own, as apparently I had also forgotten that I had tickets for the Tegan and Sara concert later today as part of my birthday present from Elyse and, despite my protestations, my phone was adamant that I only had a couple of hours left to pull myself together.

As I gently closed my eyes again for a moment, hoping that the relentless thumping in my head might eventually reside, the agonizing sound of my phone's ring tone immediately sent the pulsing in my head to a whole new level of discomfort.

How is it that nobody has developed an app that tracks when you've been to a bar and automatically switches your phone to silent the next morning? That would definitely be ninety-nine cents well spent!

Summoning all the energy I could muster, I reached out and hit something in the vicinity of the answer button and mumbled, "Before you give me grief, yes, I am still in bed, but thanks for at least waiting until after noon."

"Wow, I must have really worn you out last night, eh?" responded a gravelly voice that most definitely did not belong to my mum.

Whoa, hold on a second! Last night?

My recollection of the finer details of my evening might have been a little fuzzy around the edges, but I was 99% sure that there had been nothing more than a little light bar banter with any man that I had come across last night.

So then to whom did the voice on the other end of the line belong?

Taking a shot in the dark, I retorted, "While I'm sure that you were magnificent, is it possible that some lucky lady decided that one night with you was all she could take without being forever ruined for other men, and perhaps slipped you a fake number to keep from succumbing to your charms again?" I responded cheekily.

After a lengthy pause, the voice replied far more timidly, "So, I'm guessing that this isn't Destiny, is it?"

Destiny? What, did this guy go home with a stripper last night?

"Sorry bud, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but in no way is this your Destiny," I replied, feeling inordinately proud of myself for coming up with that retort in my current mental state.

"But I was so good!" he moaned plaintively in my ear. "She couldn't have been faking it both times, could she?"

Ah Destiny, thou art a cruel, heartless bitch. But was it really necessary to pull me into your web of cruelty as well? And more to the point, why do I never seem to have this effect on guys the next day?

Turning my mind back to my lovelorn caller, I responded as gently as I could muster, "Well, maybe she had just gotten out of a relationship and she was only looking for the pleasure of your company for the night?"

Regardless of what Destiny's intentions had been, at least my caller had a night of interpersonal activities to look back on for his efforts.

Worse things could, and most definitely had, happened to others.

Sigh.

"I guess you're right, eh? I mean yeah, maybe that first time was a bit quick, but that second time felt like it must have been almost two minutes. That's probably all she could take, right?" my mystery caller suggested, sounding far more confident than he had a moment ago.

Two minutes for the grand finale? I would have to say that the question of whether Destiny was left wanting more last night was just as clear as why I had ended up waking up to this phone call.

"I'm pretty sure you're right about that," I replied as I hung up and threw the covers back over my head.
Bisexuality doubles your chances of a date on Saturday night – Woody Allen

60. Later that day, having downed several litres of water and a semi-lethal amount of Advil, I miraculous found myself at the concert with Elyse.

While it had occurred to me that going to a concert with a lingering hangover was probably not the wisest idea, I didn't want to bail on Elyse and we were both long-time fans of Tegan and Sara.

Given recent events in my life, I also couldn't help but take notice of the fact that, beyond their abundant musical talents, both women also seemed to be quite content without men playing a central role in their romantic lives; a trait which I was coming to admire more with every passing day.

"I'm so glad you didn't bail on me tonight. It feels like so long since we've hung out," Elyse screeched into my still tender ears as the band emerged onto the stage.

I could have pointed out that that was because she and Sam had been virtually inseparable ever since he carried her out of the club but I was well aware that that might have sounded a smidge like jealously.

Plus, I couldn't really be too snotty about her disappearing on me after pushing her to give Sam a chance for so long, but eating ice cream and watching bad reality TV just isn't the same without company and people get so judgy when you start drinking alone...

"It's definitely been too long! Besides, I've been thinking that maybe it's time for me to swear off men for a while, so bailing on you probably would have been completely counterproductive," I replied, doing my best to keep my voice from getting drowned out by the band.

Besides, my recent Ben and Jerry's addiction was going to necessitate me shopping in plus size stores if I spent too many more nights at home alone.

"Whoa, hold on a second," Elyse replied, grabbing me by the shoulders and twirling me around to face her as she continued, "There's no way I'm letting a hopeless romantic like you give up on love after you finally convinced me to give someone a chance."

"Are you listening to this song?" Elyse asked, staring at me intently as I focused on the familiar lyrics for a moment.

"I'm not unfaithful,

But I'll stray,

When I get a little scared."

"We both know that that's been me for as long as we've known each other, right?" Elyse continued, her gaze crackling with intensity.

Elyse's first serious relationship had started when she was 16 and it had ended crushingly after two years when she found out that the creep had been cheating on her for pretty much the entire duration.

Elyse had been so scarred by the experience that she had never really given anyone else a chance since.

As I nodded ruefully in response, she continued "Lets face it, you were right when you told me that I needed to put myself out there with Sam. Yeah it's scary, but if it works, it's worth it, right? Besides, it's almost spring. You're not allowed to hibernate anymore. It goes against nature," she concluded with a laugh, holding my gaze a bit longer until I forced a smile back in her direction.

I can't believe my love life is so off the rails that I'm getting advice from Elyse. That had to have been one of the most surreal chats of my life.

And what was up with these lyrics?

"I just want back into your head,

I just want back into your head,

I'm not unfaithful,

But I'll stray."

Hmm, I wonder how long the flight to Kazakhstan is?
Why fit in when you were born to stand out – Dr. Seuss

61. By the time Monday morning rolled around, I had managed to almost fully recover from the weekend's debauchery and I was genuinely excited to finally take my first step towards a fulfilling career.

Or, at the very least, one in which my primary task was not turning on a coffee maker.

In an attempt to turn over a new leaf, I had purposely set my alarm painfully early to ensure that my career as a junior publicity specialist started off punctually.

And five wardrobe changes and a pair of ripped stockings later, I managed to walk through the door of my new employer a perfectly respectable three minutes early.

It was probably just as well. Nobody wants to work with someone that's trying too hard to impress on the first day anyway.

"Anna, perfect timing," Nigel greeted me as he emerged from the hallway behind the reception desk, looking dapper as always in a very Mad Men-esqe, peak lapelled, charcoal grey worsted suit, accented with gorgeous pearl cufflinks.

Thirty seconds in and I could already tell that this position was going to be different. I was positive that those words had never crossed Maggie's lips upon my arrival to work.

"Let me show you to your office and I'll introduce you to Blanche Bader. You'll be working under her and she'll be able to teach you everything you need to know about the industry. Are you excited to get started? Nigel asked as he ushered me inside.

"'Excited' really doesn't do it justice," I replied, my mind already turning to my first fabulous business lunch with a renowned author. "Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity. I'm so happy to finally get a chance to put all of my skills to use in a meaningful role."

"Don't thank me just yet. It's not the most glamorous position, but you'll certainly have a chance to work your way up," Nigel replied as we arrived at Blanche's office.

Stepping into the office of a dowdy looking woman who was glowering at me intently with a dour expression from beneath her short, graying, soccer-mom bob, Nigel said, "Blanche, I'd like to introduce you to Anna. As you know, Anna will be under your tutelage going forward."

Well, she may not have been quite the fashion maven I was expecting, but she probably made up for it with personality and charm.

"Yes, Nigel tells me that you're completely new to the industry and that I'll have to train you up. Hopefully you're eager to learn," she fired back feistily before abruptly turning away to answer a call.

Or perhaps not.

Seeing the look of apprehension flash across my face, Nigel tried to reassure me, saying, "Don't worry, I know she can come across as a bit stand-offish at first but she does warm up eventually and she'll be a fantastic resource for you. She knows everyone in the industry.

That's because she's probably been around since Gutenberg invented the printing press.

Stepping into the next room, Nigel continued, "And here we have your office. It's a bit bare bones right now, but feel free to liven it up and make it your own."

The 'office' was little more than a broom closet equipment with a tiny desk, a folding chair and a few bare shelves, but after spending three years behind a reception desk, I wasn't going to complain about four walls to call my own, no matter how closely spaced they may have been.

"I've got to pop out for a meeting but I'll leave you in Blanche's capable hands for now. If you don't have any plans, I'd like to take you out for lunch around 1 to see how things are going," Nigel noted before ducking out and leaving me to get acclimated to my new surroundings.

Well, maybe this won't be so bad. I'll bring in a few plants, maybe a little IKEA wardrobe. And I'll probably be so busy learning the industry from Blanche that I'll hardly even be in here.

Just then, Blanche poked her head in to my office and said, "I've got a conference call in two minutes. Throw on a pot of coffee and bring me a cup. One sugar, no cream."

Son of a !@#!@
I pretty much try to stay in a constant state of confusion just because of the expression it leaves on my face – Johnny Depp

62. A few hours later, I found myself seated across from Nigel at Granville Island's newest eatery and I was starting to feel a bit better about my career change.

Blanche had calmed down once I got a little coffee in her (a requirement that I could sympathize with) and she had taken the time to talk me through what I was going to be doing and to answer my questions.

While the job probably wasn't going to be quite as glamourous as I had built it up to be in my head, it still promised to be a solid step up from the reception desk.

"How's your first day going so far? Does Blanche have you working on anything stimulating yet?" Nigel inquired as we sat down.

Well, your cappuccino machine proved to be more of a challenge that I'm used to, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.

Resisting the temptation to say anything snotty about my first task, I politely replied, "It's been an interesting day so far. Blanche asked me to help her set up some book store signings for some local authors, so I've spent most of the morning on the phone and getting to know some of the other people in the office."

Thankfully, everyone else seemed to be reasonable friendly and cheerful. As long as I kept Blanche well caffeinated, things were looking promising.

"No regrets about your decision then?" Nigel asked inquisitively.

"No, not at all. I'm excited for the opportunity to learn about the industry and the chance to make myself useful. Plus, this is one meal more than I ever went for with my previous boss," I replied with a laugh.

"Perhaps I have a greater appreciation for what you bring to the table than Ms. Beckwith did," Nigel responded with a wink.

Before I could even ponder the intended meaning behind his comment or the wink, a tall, slender, impeccably dressed man walked up to our table, looking very much like he had just stepped out of a GQ magazine shoot.

"Nigel, I haven't seen you here in ages. You look absolutely delicious," he noted enthusiastically, a hint of a lisp evident in his voice as Nigel stood up to hug him affectionately.

"Evan, it's been way too long," Nigel replied warmly. "Evan, let me introduce you to Anna. Anna just joined us today as our new junior publicity specialist."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm so jealous that you get to work under Nigel," he noted a salacious grin.

I believe it.

Okay, so it certainly seemed like Nigel was flirting with me before. Evan was most definitely flirting with Nigel now. So just what was Nigel's deal?

"Yes, I'm pretty excited. I get the impression that Nigel isn't quite like anyone I've worked under before," I replied with complete sincerity.

Or possibly anyone else I had ever met.

"I can't disagree with you there. I certainly think he's one of a kind," Evan said with a wink as he affectionately squeezed Nigel's shoulder before saying, "But I shouldn't keep the two of you from your lunch. It was delightful to meet you Anna. You're in good hands with Nigel."

After Evan departed and we sat back down, Nigel, stating the obvious, said with a chuckle, "Sorry, Evan's a bit gregarious isn't he? He's an amazing graphic artist though. We have him do some cover work for us from time to time."

"He, umm, certainly seems to have an artistic flair about him," I agreed with a bemused smile while attempting to tread carefully with my response.

Not only was I still trying to figure out precisely where Nigel's interest lay but I also didn't want risk to sticking my foot in my mouth in case the two of them had shared more than an interest in art in the past.

"I love the vibe at this restaurant. I can't believe I've never been here before. What do you recommend?" I asked benignly as I gazed at the menu, attempting to shift the conversation to more solid ground.

"I can't speak to the menu but I can tell you that this gentleman is a tasty treat," the words seemingly coming out of nowhere until I swivelled to see a tall, shapely brunette with cheekbones that looked like they could cut ice, walking up to Nigel from behind me, and thrusting her taunt derrière in my direction as she bent down to kiss him on the cheek.

Hmm, well this was an interesting development. But it was doing nothing to clear up any of my questions about Nigel.

Just what was going on here?

"Natasha! I haven't seen you since that trip to Macao. When did you get into town?" Nigel asked, the affection obvious in his voice.

"Sorry, where are my manners. Anna, let me introduce you to Natasha. Natasha has done some modeling for a couple of the magazines we work with from time to time," Nigel continued, sadly neglecting to provide any details on their trip to Macao.

So why was I getting the distinct impression from the gleam in Nigel's eye that some of Natasha's most memorable modelling moments might have occurred off camera?

"Are you working under Nigel as well?" Natasha asked, following a popular line of conversation for the meal.

"Anna just started with us as a junior publicity specialist but I can see her working her way into more interesting positions in the future," Nigel responded, winking at me.

And the mystery deepens...
All discarded lovers should be given a second chance, but with somebody else – Mae West

63. As I headed home after my first day, exhausted but utterly contented to finally have taken the first step towards a meaningful career, I decided I needed a little pick me up and I popped into the first coffee shop I spotted to grab a caramel macchiato.

Stepping inside, I was immediately hit by a painful wave of nostalgia as I realized that I had picked the same coffee shop that Jonathan had taken me to after our aborted attempt at skating.

I still couldn't believe that I hadn't heard a word from him since Valentine's Day. He could be married to an oil heiress by now for all I knew.

As memories of my time with Jonathan continued to wash over me, I briefly considered finding another coffee shop.

It was downtown Vancouver; I could probably find 3 more before I made it to the end of the block. But I was already here and I couldn't think of a better day to put the past behind me than this one.

As I sat down with my caffeine infusion, a Tegan and Sara song started playing in the background and I couldn't help smiling as I thought about Sam and Elyse.

That boy had a long road ahead of him if he truly wanted to make an honest woman out of Elyse someday, but I was so proud of my girl for finally giving Sam an honest chance.

I glanced around idly at the other patrons as I sat back contently but, as my gaze moved towards the back of the shop, I felt the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my heart momentarily stopped beating as I briefly caught sight of a familiar reflection in the mirror.

Sneaking another furtive glance at the mirror, I confirmed my initial suspicion.

Jonathan was back in town and, once again, fate had brought us together. However, this time around fate had inserted a busty blonde between us.

All things considered, I much preferred the car accident. It was far less traumatic.

With my heart pounding so wildly that I thought it was going to pop out of my chest, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in a futile attempt to try to calm myself.

I had never had a panic attack before so I couldn't tell if my symptoms were reaching clinical levels, but I would have gladly welcomed a massive heart attack on the condition that it put a swift and permanent end to my anguish.

If there was such a thing as a living hell, being trapped in a confined space and forced to watch the man that broke my heart while he flirts with possibly the most physically perfect woman I had ever laid eyes on had to qualify.

Thinking about my options as rationally as I could, I realized I was in a no-win situation.

If I got up and dashed for the door, Jonathan would undoubtedly see me and realize that I was fleeing because of him.

On the other hand, if I stayed where I was, I was going to be forced to listen to Jonathan's conversation with his new friend, staring at my replacement in the mirror until I keeled over from jealously.

The expression 'stuck between a rock and a hard place' does not even begin to cover situations like this.

With my eyes firmly shut as I agonized over how to extricate myself from my dilemma, the lyrics from the song that only moments earlier had me smiling wistfully were now evoking a very different emotional response.

"How come you don't want me now?

Why don't you want to wait this out?"

Seriously? This was going to be the soundtrack to my nervous breakdown?

Try as I might, I couldn't help but glance at the mirror again.

Fabulous.

Not only did she have a face that belonged on a magazine cover, but she also appeared to have barely hit her twenties.

Was it asking too much for my replacement to have at least one visible flaw that I could repeatedly pick at in my head over the next few months?

"I see you by my house,

Walking with a different girl.

I see you by my house,

Talking with a different girl."

If I somehow manage to survive this ordeal, I was taking a bat to that fucking stereo on my way out.

I tried to raise my cup to my lips in a futile attempt to calm my nerves but my arm was shaking too badly for it to comply with the request without slopping coffee all over the table.

Well, I guess that ruled out a speedy exit.

If I tried to stand up at that moment, there was a reasonably good chance that it was going to resemble a scene from Bambi's first steps on ice.

"Why don't you want to win me now?

Tell me why you couldn't try,

Couldn't try and keep me here."

Gazing sorrowfully into the mirror, I consoled myself with the knowledge that at least they weren't all over each at their table.

If Jonathan had so much as reached for her hand or brushed her hair from her face, I was pretty sure I was going to lose whatever remained of my sanity, which at that moment was hanging precariously by a thread.

Then, as I turned away from the mirror, I heard Jonathan's voice inquisitively inquire, "Anna?"

He must have caught my gaze in the mirror before I had a chance to avert my eyes.

I guess there's no way out of this now...
Faith is the force of life – Leo Tolstoy

64. With every muscle in my body trembling uncontrollably, I wobbled to my feet and tentatively stepped towards Jonathan's table.

As I did my best to put one foot in front of the other, I could feel the sweat forming in beads all over my body and I was seeing spots that I was quite sure were not a part of the coffee house décor.

This gave a whole new meaning to a walk of shame.

Here I was, alone, unloved and just a decade away from my forties, while the man who's departure had sent me to the hospital was contentedly sitting there, large as life, with the new and very much improved version of me.

Anna 2.0.

Younger, taller, prettier and no discernable pit stains.

Sigh.

"Jonathan, hi, I didn't know you were back in town," I responded with all the feigned enthusiasm I could muster, using every ounce of self control I had left to keep my eyes from releasing the tidal wave of tears that was building up behind them, like a dam seconds away from bursting.

So nice of you to get in touch and tell me you were back in town. And to mention that it had taken you all of 5 seconds to get over me and to move on to younger and curvier things.

Nothing makes a girl feel really special like knowing she can be replaced in the time it takes most people to restock their fridge.

"I actually just got back yesterday. My body was telling me that I should be waking up right about now so I thought I should try a caffeine cure," he replied, his smile turning my insides to mush as I felt my eyes starting to glisten.

Fabulous.

One single fricking day.

So did she come with the duty free vodka? One complimentary girlfriend with every bottle purchased?

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm being rude," he exclaimed, standing up to introduce his companion.

'Rude' wasn't exactly the word that I had in mind to describe him. 'Contemptible' seems more apropos, but rude was a solid start.

"This is my baby sister, Jocelyn. She's studying psychology at UBC and she volunteered to house sit for me while I was away," Jonathan continued.

I reached out to shake her hand while trying to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor as I struggled to digest that extraordinarily helpful tidbit of information.

An enormous wave of relief flooded over me as I realized that, perhaps, I hadn't been replaced just yet.

I had to grab on to the back of the nearest chair to keep my knees from buckling as an inordinate amount of tension abruptly left my body.

At some point Jonathan had mentioned having a younger sister, but I had never seen a picture of her and the family resemblance had been completely lost on me during my bout of severe paranoia.

"It's so nice to meet you," I gushed enthusiastically with an enormous, goofy smile plastered across my face.

That had to have been the understatement of the year. By not starting his sentence with, 'This is my girlfriend', Jonathan had probably prevented me from bursting a blood vessel right then and there.

"It's nice to meet you as well. My brother's told me so much about you. It's great to finally put a face to the name," Jocelyn replied warmly.

Given semi-recent events, I wasn't sure if that sweet of her to say or slightly scary to hear.

"Thanks, only good things I hope?" I replied a bit more timidly than I had intended and with a look on my face that probably resembled that of a puppy looking for some sign of approval from its owner.

Good grief girl, get a hold of yourself! You just had a billionaire chasing you (albeit rather briefly).

"Yes, very much so," she replied, grinning roguishly at her brother.

"Excuse me for a second though, I have to pop into the ladies' room," she continued, discretely excusing herself and leaving Jonathan and I alone.

"So, how have you been?" Jonathan asked, smiling at me nervously.

Hmm, well you're certainly not going to be hearing any details about my fabulous tour of the emergency room at Vancouver General anytime soon. However, a carefully edited version of my yachting adventure might serve you right...

"Everything's been going really well for me lately," I replied, doing my best to ensure that my expression matched my words.

"Actually, I just started my new job today and my boss took me out for a fabulous lunch to celebrate. It seems like it's going to be a really fulfilling position," I continued as I mentally debated whether or not I should mention Sean (and his yacht).

"That's fantastic, I'm so happy for you. I know that you weren't exactly loving your last job," Jonathan replied before awkwardly continuing, "So...", the pregnant pause hanging in the air as I waited for the question that I was praying he wanted to ask, "are you seeing anyone right now?"

Woo hoo! I might be more available than a juicy rib-eye at a PETA fundraising dinner, but he was going to have to sweat a bit before I released that piece of information.

Better yet, the fact that he was asking almost had to mean that he wasn't seeing anyone either.

"As a matter of fact, someone did ask me to go for drinks a couple of days ago. I wasn't going to saying yes, but then I suddenly remembered that the last guy I had went out with fled the country without asking me to wait for him, so I decided maybe I should," I replied, giving him a not so subtle jab.

"Ah, I see. And how did that go?" Jonathan asked, looking a bit wounded by my response.

"Really well," I replied enthusiastically, twisting the knife a bit deeper as I continued, "He ended up inviting me back to his yacht for dinner and he mentioned something about sailing me down to California, but I told him that I wouldn't have felt right abandoning my new boss like that."

"Wow, that sounds like quite the night. So are you seeing him again or did he hoist anchor after you turned him down?" Jonathan inquired, failing miserably in his attempt to sound casual, much to my delight.

"I haven't closed the door on anything, but I got the impression that he might not be able to keep up," I replied, shuddering at the memory of Sean's performance issues and the unsatisfying end to our night.

"So, what did you think of Kazakhstan?" I inquired blandly as I attempted to permanently delete all mental images of Sean from my memory.

"It was bleak, lonely and frigid. Pretty much exactly as promised in the tourist guidebook," Jonathan replied with a weary grin, looking a bit fatigued but otherwise none the worse for wear.

"And here I thought that those were the ideal conditions for cold, ruthless lawyers such as yourself," I responded, trying to be playful but perhaps coming across a bit more pouty than originally intended.

"To be fair, I am still pretty new to the profession," Jonathan replied, wrapping me up in his arms until I squealed in mock protest.

Pressing myself up against him, I was quickly reminded how much I had missed his scent and having his arms around me.

"So you're on your way to becoming completely heartless then?" I asked, a hint of the hurt I had felt still evident in my voice.

"I'm a slow learner but, just in case you're right, maybe I should give you my heart for safe keeping for the time being. That is, if you still want it?" he replied, his eyes boring into mine intently.

Wow, way to put a girl on the spot there, bud.

I had not seen that question coming at all.

Between the shock of seeing Jonathan again and the agony my assumption that he had moved on had caused me, I was already emotionally drained and I was probably in no condition to pick out an ice-cream flavour, let alone to decide if I was ready to let Jonathan back into my life. However, I knew that if I ran now, there was no going back.

Taking a seconds to gather my thoughts, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and I answered straight from my heart, "I want to be with you. No games, no exceptions. I want us to be together."

It had been a long time since I had let myself be vulnerable with someone, but after finally convincing Elyse to take a chance with Sam, I couldn't very well chicken out now myself.

Thankfully, as I was saying the words I knew in my heart that this was truly what I yearned for and, wherever this journey took me, I was ready for the ride.
THE END

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