Respect the C*&K
Dear readers; the following post contains language and content that may be offensive to some. Really offensive. Like a lot of it…
Yesterday was a supremely weird day. It began with my cat waking me at 7:00 am by biting the end of my nose as hard as he could. Later in the morning he peed all over me while I tried to fit him in his kitty cage to visit the vet. Then it cost me $300 to find out that he’s old, and that there’s something wrong with him. Finding out what is wrong will be more expensive, I fear.
Upon returning home I discovered the John Goodman equivalent in the raccoon world passed out cold on my patio. I fled my home at that point to enjoy brunch with the ever-lovely Lenni. She gave me a huge spoonful of chocolate mousse shortly after greeting me (a high point) and then we went for a beautiful stroll in search of nosh. The only place without an epic lineup for brunch was the Diplomatico, and though the patio and sunshine were grand, my French toast was burnt, and my sausages tasted like metal. Thank god the company was good.
College Street adventures concluded, I headed to the park where I enjoyed another stroll and a catch-up with my friend Marty. I went home from there (John Goodman still there, still unconscious) intending to nap before my evening plans, but instead ended up over-sleeping thus arriving late to meet my friend Carlos. We enjoyed a fantastic play at Harbourfront Centre (AfterImage – amazing!), and then I experienced the glory of the UFC for the first time, on pay-per-view in a sports bar. (This was a barter, or compromise of sorts. I want to be the girl who applies Vaseline to the fighters’ faces just before they step into the ring. Seriously.)
This blog entry is not about any of those things, however. What I would like to focus on is what happened between the over-sleeping and the evening’s entertainment.
First, it’s important to mention that I’m thinking (once again) of taking a dating break. My heart just isn’t in it (again). I feel so much more at ease and comfortable hanging out with friends. I spent a lot of time this weekend reflecting on this decision, and really feeling grateful for the quality “me time” I’ve been enjoying. I should note too that I’ve met some lovely members of the opposite sex. Really beautiful people, but I’m just not there right now…
I’m rushing to Harbourfront Centre. I’m at Spadina station, plugged into my iPod, and generally obvlivious to anything but the streetcar that’s pulling in as I’m at the top of the stairs. Suddenly, someone grabs my arm. I stop in my tracks, whip my ear buds out of my head with my free hand and am face-to-face with a dude who looks about 45, is Eastern European, and is wearing a yellow shirt, a sports jacket, and a matching yellow pocket square. Still holding my arm he says: “You are one of the most elegant women I have ever seen in my life. I just couldn’t take my eyes off you. Please, take my card, and tell me when you might like to have coffee with me.”
As I look from him to the card, he releases my arm, and vanishes into the crowd.
The card is white. The front says:
The back says:
When your man does not measure up
Member of TorontoRealMen.com
Certified Honors Graduate of Dimitri’s The Lovers Sexual Guru Program
I began to laugh. I assumed he was an actor, from a troupe performing Kamakaze improv. Then I vaguely remembered hearing about Dimitri the Lover. I couldn’t remember why…
I was impressed at his boldness, I will say that. He was well dressed, and seemed polite enough. I didn’t find him attractive, but he sparked my curiosity. Does this approach work? What are these affiliations? Who are these hilarious actors and what is the project they are promoting?
Tonight, home from rehearsal, I had some time to do some research.
First I visited “Toronto Real Men.”
The Real Men website led me to this documentary:
Which led me to the Dimitri The Lover website:
Which led me to these articles:
And then, to this legendary moment, which I had heard before, but had no idea it was part of our rich Toronto history:
I could use the remaining space in this blog entry to tell you what I think about all of this, but frankly, I’m more curious to know what you, my dear readers have to say on this one.
I’ll be nailed into…
holed up in…
nestled deep inside…
Enjoying my quiet alone time in the Fortress of Solitude, Pavel. You and your coffee can suck it.