LC Pod
1979 (ft. Liz Anjos) by RAC
Happiness by The Weepies
The other day I met up with a friend from fashion school who was in town from London, England, to work on his sartorial projects. We strolled Bloor street for a little while and through the many knooks and crannies of Yorkville, we made our way to Whole Foods and sipped coffee as we caught up on life. No one but myself understood why I loved being in their store cafe, because days prior, as I sat on the subway after a long day of work, I locked my eyes on, not the handsome man standing in front of me wearing great fall attire, but on his Whole Foods grocery bag. The slogans and messages are what stole the show. It read, not in these exact terms, "365 days a year, your own product, real value...".
It got me thinking: am I my own real product 365 days a year?
Whole Foods Market describes their wide range of foods as not having artificial ingredients or hydrogenated fats, they never add high fructose syrup and avoid genetically modified ingredients. So basically, no junk, no bullshit. The real deal. No sugar coating hiding the real hard facts of the gewy center, no excessive oil to dab off with a napkin to finally get the quality of food you will eat, no additives to tamper and to fool you.
Why can't people be like this? Why can't we be as uncomplicated as a Whole Foods store? We are quite obviously more complex than complex carbs but really, why can't we be? Why do we sometimes choose to be that pre-packaged, mass produced, sugary dessert when we can be the raw vegetable medley? Why do we sometimes choose to be that lengthy, cryptic ingredient list when we can be straightforward and au naturel, providing more food for the soul than any other chemically engineered food ever could?
To continue with the questions, why is it that I will spend the extra time choosing whole foods, make all the right healthy choices, take the time to work out, get myself in shape - for health reasons and vanity ones too - yet I don't take the time to make the right choices in men.
We have stores fully dedicated to healthy foods. We take the time to go to them, read the fine prints on the labels, and choose wisely for our personal health, our particular eating regimen, and our particular tastes. Yet, when it comes to relationships, the meticulousness I exhibit with my physical health, does not translate. If I ate the same way I chose my men, that would mean I'd be eating McDonalds and foods alike. With so many more options, why do I choose what's wrong for me and what I want? I "eat" all the wrong foods and I "taste test" the foods I know I detest - like sardines.
It's becoming more and more clear that my decision making in that department is way off and in dire need of a revamp. Without naming names and without listing them all - all definitely does not connote alot - the men I've dated here in the city either have one or many qualities that I most definitely do not want in my significant other. There was Dennis and his small frame. He was far too short for me. So much so that on our first date he explicitly asked me not to wear heels. I wore flats. Me, flats, on a date. First red flag. Not the flats part, but him being so insecure about his height that he had to ask me to not add any to mine.
There was Mark. He wore an earring. Not a stud earring, a little loop. First red flag. Then, on our first date, he told me he does cocaine. He tried to ease my look of worry by assuring me he only did the stuff on special occasions like birthdays and New Years Eve. He then proceeded to invite me out to his birthday in a few weekends - insert worried face. Following that, he expressed to me how he didn't understand how he felt so awful the day after he did the stuff. I had to explain the process of snorting cocaine (not from experience) and how it is fairly evident why someone feels like death once they fall from the high. I know what everyone is thinking and it pains me because this is portions of my dating history for everyone to see without the high fructose coating. Recounting such a lack of judgement irks me.
Then there was JB who was basically a closet porno connoisseur.
And then there's the countless other mismatched crushes that I've had. The people that know me best know I always have a crush on someone, from mini crushes at the gym, to the ones that span years. I'm a sucker for romantic mystery. I think perhaps I am more in love with the possibilities I can dream up than the actual crush themselves. A friend recently said to me that it's in my head. And I really do listen to that because it is in my head. I am such a dreamer, when it comes to everything mind you, that I need to come down from the clouds and start looking at things from my point of view - head on - and not the birds eye view that I have maybe been hiding behind.
They call this dating stuff a "game", usually referring to it as an emotional Russian roulette. For me, the game most suitable to explain my tactics, and lack thereof, is blindfolded darts. I am literally taking shots in the dark. With my track record these days, one can laugh and interpret that as me taking shots of liquor in the dark, but that really isn't what I was referring to. I throw at random. My targets are random. They are not thought out. I choose them blindly.
Like a dog, I sniff out someone and follow the smell. I drop everything I'm doing, even if it was more important than catching this scent trail, and I follow it until its end. The end can lead me to nowhere or it can lead me to something great, but when I first start on its path, I don't know, and in hindsight, I don't think I care. As long as I have something to do, somewhere to go, something to talk about, and something to keep me busy, whether erroneous or not, then I'm a happy camper. The problem there is that I don't end up happy. So what, I'm just a camper? I don't get a positive adjective to describe me? I have such problems staying still, getting my mind to stop running a million miles an hour, that I am constantly seeking things to stay occupied. So is this a boredom thing? And if it is, that is very much frightening.
My sister told me to really think about what my "type" is. She asked me to really think about what it is that I am looking for in a person. I'm having trouble answering that because I don't think I know enough about myself to decide what is my best match and the fiasco that is my family situation is not helping; it is fogging up my mind. So, how can one decide what will compliment them until they know what needs or can be complimented?
I mean to walk into a Whole Foods store. I mean to choose the right foods. I am well intentioned. But maybe I am a little too hungry to go shopping just yet. Maybe I need to feed myself a little more before I can confidently buy exactly what's on my list.
LCxo
