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Posts tagged ‘relationships’

Golden-Tomato and Kale Pasta

Golden-Tomato and Kale Pasta

Page 305. Summer is a busy time of year for me in Toronto. There are a lot of people to see and many social engagements to attend. Last week was the Inside Out LGBT Film Festival, and I saw one film, G.B.F., and two documentaries, The Continental and I am Divine.

On top of that I caught up with old friends, Raquel, Christine, Alex and Alisha. In addition I attended the Rob Ford protest and the Veggie Pride Parade.

Sufficed to say I’m tired. Today is my first day of a month-long coffee detox, and I’m cutting alcohol out for two full weeks to let my internal organs heal!

But that doesn’t mean I’m slowing down. I’m still baking, and of course, I have plenty of recipes still to make from Martha Stewart’s vegetarian cookbook, meatless.

I’ve wanted to make the meal depicted on the book cover since I purchased it, but I admit that I had to trade the kale for spinach because that’s all I had in my fridge. Evidently I did have golden cherry tomatoes, ricotta cheese and plenty of garlic.

To add a little flavour I included some vegan butter to the recipe. It turned out pretty good if you ask me. The subtle flavours left a pleasant aftertaste on my palate.

Oh and welcome home Matt and Lisa! I hope Amsterdam and Paris were a dream.

Remembering my family dog, Dusty

Dusty

Dusty II on my childhood bed in Brampton

When I was 5-years-old my family rented a home in Rexdale, a neighbourhood in Toronto, and as part of our kin we had a dog, a shih tzu named Dusty.

One day Dusty was mauled by a German Shepherd and died. I wasn’t there to witness the horrible event, but my dad rushed our poor mangled family pet to the vet (a rhyme!), where he remained, never to return to our humble abode.

My dad explained that he surrendered Dusty to the animal hospital, who happily adopted him. I somehow knew that was code for “the emergency bill to save his life was too expensive, and so Dusty was mercifully sent to doggy heaven.” In fairness, I’m sure that my dad would have paid anything to save that dog if it was possible.

Well, a year later my parents bought their first house in Brampton, and that’s where I lived until I went to university.

Okay, I’m just going to lay it out there for all of you: Brampton was a hell hole. It’s not exactly where I would choose to raise my family, but it was cheap, there were good Catholic schools that I loathed as much as living in Brampton,  and we were somewhat safe. That’s if you forgive that time our next-door neighbours were robbed from top to bottom, but that’s a story for another blog post.

Eventually, my parents decided that it was time for us to buy a new dog, to replace Dusty, and we did, a shih tzu, named, errr…. Dusty. Maybe my dad thought this would erase our memory of Dusty I, and it sort of worked, but it was odd, to say the least.

Dusty II was a loyal addition to our family and we loved him dearly. We demonstrated our affection by feeding him… a lot! Throughout his life, Dusty II was always somewhat obese, and looking back it was cruel that we fed him so much. But it was always so cute to see how excited he would get at the word “cookie” and of course, as soon as you mentioned it, you had to give it to him. Dusty II could sit, lie down, roll over and give paw on command, which is something I later found to be impossible with another breed of dog. But I digress.

I especially adored Dusty, he was probably my best friend, and I’m not ashamed to confess that. When my whole family went to Italy one summer I was gutted that I would be apart from him for so long, but I managed and I remember when we collected him from the dog-sitters, how tremendously happy he was to be reunited with us. As we drove up to our house he was bursting with joy; perhaps he felt he would never see us again when we unceremoniously abandoned him for a month with complete strangers.

For all their faults my parents were loving dog owners, but Dusty made it easy for all of us to love him. He was well-behaved, never barked and his favourite past-time was sleeping. Win-win-win!

Whenever he got super happy he would excitedly run around the house in circles and then stop, panting and staring at us, as if to ask, “Are you proud of me?”

Dusty was deathly afraid of the vacuum cleaner because once I mistook his tail for part of the carpet. I was mortified that I had just traumatized my beautiful baby, but like all dogs, he instantly forgave me. But not the vacuum.

In later years Dusty got thinner, and I moved away to attend university. I would come home every now and again and notice that he was even thinner and that he wasn’t eating his cookies like he used to.

One night my father found him, alone in the corner of the laundry room. This was unusual for Dusty, because he loved my father very much and was always by his side in the family room sleeping on a pillow.

My father spent most of the evening making Dusty comfortable and trying not to disturb him. He was clearly dying, and wanted to spare his family, the ones he loved the most in the whole world, from the trauma of having to witness his demise. Over night he lay on the ground in the laundry room, while my father stroked his once shiny fur.  Dusty courageously held on to life, either afraid of disappointing us, or desperate to stay with his loving family.  The next day at the vet my parents and brothers learned that he was riddled with cancer.

The decision was made to spare him any further pain, and he was euthanized that day. He was 14.

I never said goodbye to Dusty and I still think of him often. I remember his chubby body, his cute round squishy face, and how much I used to love kissing the little brown spot on his otherwise primarily black nose.

I still feel guilty that I wasn’t around more during the last years of his life. I was selfish, a teenager, just wanting to be away from home, free to discover new friends, and new experiences. I forgot how loyal and loving he was to me, during a time when I was isolated and abandoned by my peers.  With Dusty I was never a loser, never a nerd. I was… gulp… cool.

After he died, Dusty was cremated. When I came home that very day, unaware that he had passed, I immediately called for him when I entered the house. Usually, at that stage of his life, he would saunter over to welcome me back, but this time he was nowhere to be seen. I thought it odd that I couldn’t find his food and water dishes, and as I continued my useless search to find him, my mother appeared and told me what had happened.

Understandably I cried. Embarrassingly. An ugly cry. I stood in the foyer of my family home and crumbled in agony. He was my dog, my friend, the only thing that mattered to me. How could it be that he was just gone? You mean, I’ll never see him again?

Nothing seemed the same after he passed away, and even our house missed him. He was a beautiful dog, and his peaceful presence was hard to ignore. His energy was always a positive influence on all of us.

There are still nights when I dream about him. I know it sounds cheesy, but I hope that he’s alive somewhere, and that I’ll be reunited with him again one day. He was a special little guy, and he brought so much love and light to our family.

A few weeks ago my friend Alisha reminded me of a quote that says, “Be the person your dog thinks you are.” I hope I made Dusty proud.

I love you Dusty. Wherever you are.

My faults are my strength ( a draft )

Hey everyone, this is an argument that I’m working with, so this is a rough draft. I’m hoping to improve it as time goes by, but right now I wanted to put my thoughts down and share it with others for their opinions, criticisms and experiences. So keep in mind that it’s a little disjointed and all over the place at the moment. There’s a lot of recurring themes in my essays, including the lack of human compassion I’m unfortunate enough to witness daily. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how unhappy so many of my peers are, and how they’ve kind of accepted this as a rule. A lot of their misery is influenced by their occupations, and toxic work environments. I want to explore this a little more to understand our motivations, and inability to recognize our own faults. I’m currently working on a book that tackles a lot of this subject matter, so I’m just trying to work shop it and get it out there for people to read. I’m trying to expand on a lot of the sentences, and delve deeper into the psychology of the experiences I’ve written about here. Thanks.

You know I grew up in a family that didn’t have a lot of expectations for me. My parents didn’t want me to go to university and would have been pleased if I worked as a produce clerk at Fortino’s. I applied to the universities of Guelph, York, McMaster and Nipissing as a means to escape my dysfunctional home. At the time my older brother was a maniac, heavily into drugs and my parents coped with this by becoming hysterical at any mild infraction me or my brothers committed. I just wanted out, to be on my own, away from them.

When I was finally accepted to all four of my choices a lot of my classmates teased me because I was seriously considering attending Nipissing University in North Bay, Ontario. Those who were going to McGill and Queen’s looked down on me, like I was less a person because of where I was leaning to spend my future. I have to sheepishly admit, that they had an effect on my decision and I eventually chose to go to Guelph, but even that was met with snide comments.

When I made my choice my father warned me, “Don’t go to university and think that you’re better than any of us.” That was it. He didn’t tell me that he was proud of me, didn’t offer to help pay for my tuition, he just warned me not to get too big for my britches.

Now keep in mind that my brother was in and out of rehab my whole life. Still is in fact. He just can’t get his life together, and during my last two years of high school, when I was trying to achieve good grades to get into university I had to wake up each morning at 5 a.m. to take him to work, which was 30 minutes away (an hour to and back), because he had a suspended driver’s licence from a drinking and driving charge. It was not his first offence, and I was responsible for driving him around; wherever he wanted to go, I had to be of service. After school I had to drive all the way to Milton to pick him up from work and drive him home, so the entire journey cost me two hours of my day. After I would go to work where I was investing almost 40 hours a week at the IGA in the Shopper’s World mall, in addition to attending school. My dad made it clear to me that he was not going to pay for my university, or my rent while living away from home, so I had to pay my own way. This kind of confused me because my parents always bragged to dinner guests that they were upper middle class.

My whole life, my parents took very little interest in my schooling, they didn’t really care what grades I got, and didn’t appear to notice how emotionally exhausted I was from trekking my sociopathic brother all over the place. They didn’t cultivate my creativity, or take any notice that I was a skilled writer. In fact, neither did my teachers. Many of them thought I was pretty dumb, and they treated me like I was clueless all the time. In fact, one teacher told me that I had this perpetual look on my face, like I had no idea what anyone was talking about. I thought I was being observational, but I guess I just looked stupid!

My home life simply sucked. I was bullied at school for being gay and one day I made the mistake of telling my mother about my ordeal who screamed and hollered that they were making fun of me because I walked and talked like a gay person. Clearly I wasn’t getting any sympathy from her. My misery was my own fault for being too gay! Now I don’t blame her, she was simply doing the best that she could, and I’m sure she meant well, it just came across as terribly prejudiced. So as you can see, there was little salvation. I turned inward, nose in a book, pen to paper and just tried to get my muddled thoughts down as a means of therapy. When you’re in hell you kind of just keep going, and it became so normal to me that I didn’t recognize how truly horrible my life was.

To this day my parents have no idea what the difference is between an undergraduate and graduate degree. They still have no idea what I majored in, and they don’t really care. In a way I respect that, at least they don’t pretend to care, which to me, is so much worse.

For whatever reason I always annoyed my family. They were angry over my vocabulary, mocking my education, like it wasn’t supposed to be taken seriously at all. They would yell, “Why do you have to use so many big words?” I wasn’t speaking in a way that was any different from the way I normally spoke. I have always had a very good command of the English language. As a child I read a lot, but even that was grounds for ridicule by my family, who would complain that I was “off in my fantasy land.”

Because of these early experiences, even before I started my first year in university, I had to come to terms with other people’s opinions about how I was choosing to live my life. I just seemed to be disappointing everyone, and impressing no one. It didn’t matter that I was the FIRST person in my family to attend higher education, or that I was smart, and somewhat ambitious. That was seen as a flaw to my family. To my friends, I was seen as a simpleton, not reaching high enough by choosing more prestigious universities.

I remember that near the end of my first year of university I took the steps to transfer to McGill. But after a while I thought differently, and learned to accept my choices, and that the only way to live my life, was to be happy with the decisions I made. After all, it was my life, and I shouldn’t be living it for anyone else but myself. It didn’t matter how much I tried to make people be proud of me, they just didn’t seem to care. So I learned to be proud of myself. That was enough.

But I didn’t always remember this piece of self-advice. During university I started to date Keith and met his family who were nice, and have always been super kind to me. But I could tell that they didn’t approve of me right away.

I got it, I was most definitely a strange character. I was confused, and my childhood was looming over me, and I was embarrassed by it. I have two older siblings who are a mess, my parents are hysterical, and my two younger brothers don’t really care very much for me. Here I was, trying to be accepted by another family, a more sane, emotionally mature family.

Well you can imagine that the more I tried to be loved, the more it worked against me. Even Keith’s friends were terrible to me. They were an exclusive group, and no matter how hard I tried to be accepted by them, to be included, they were determined to make me feel like an outsider. Well it worked. They were successful.

The fringe is where I have always belonged. At a barbecue one night I thought I was finally making progress with some of them, that they were beginning to embrace me a little more, but then one of them uttered to the other, “Do you think Shawn and Keith are going to fuck tonight?” Shawn was a friend from university and Keith had spent much of the night talking to him. I’m not the jealous type, and didn’t think there was any budding sexual attraction between them.

Now keep in mind that when this friend presented this insensitive question, Keith and I had been an item for three years. It was clear how little they valued our relationship, how little they thought of and valued me. The disappointment on my face was painfully obvious and they immediately understood what they had done, but they didn’t apologize, they just pretended the incident never happened. I had nowhere to escape, so I went to Keith’s car and cried. I just sobbed.

It was a difficult reality to accept. I was alone.

Now I’m focusing on a lot of negative past experiences here, but there is a reason, and I will try to tie them together.

The main message from these stories is that there are a lot of people in this world who can’t get past their own egos, their own smug attitudes, or their own arrogance to be kind to others. They see the world through their own lenses, and they’re intolerant of those who have their own world-view.

That’s what families are like. I’m certain if I accepted my parents limited expectations of me I would have a closer relationship with them. I understand fully that if I didn’t openly talk about my family troubles, and pretended that my life was a kin to the The Cosby Show, we’d all be happy as can be.

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about these moments in my life, wondering if the universe has placed these obstacles in front of me as offerings to learn something about myself.

I’m definitely a humble person, because I’ve never been really embraced by anyone, or any group of people. I’ve had no choice, my life is far from perfect, and I’ve experienced a lot of hardship. But I don’t feel sorry for myself, though it may appear in this post that I do, I am aware how lucky I have been.

Of course, it always helps to have the support of the people you love, but the reality is that in my formative years I didn’t have that. So I had to support myself, and be proud of my own accomplishments.

[Okay so here is how I'm trying to tie this in... Not sure how it's going to go, but I want to transition to toxic work environments and how embracing our flaws can lead to personal growth, fulfillment and relationship building. We'll see. It's possible that these exist as separate ideas all together.]

Here goes. I have a lot of personal flaws and I will relay some of them to you here in this post.

I’m cantankerous, pessimistic, stubborn, moody, cynical, prone to snap judgments and obnoxiously loud. I hold grudges, find it difficult to forgive insensitive people and I am confrontational. I feel angry at things I feel are unjust and can’t shut my mouth when I feel someone has done someone else wrong. I have little problem with conflict, and voice my opinion without thinking about the consequences they might have on the people around me. I’m argumentative, and will sometimes lie to make a point, or to win a debate. I can be manipulative, cold and calculating. Sometimes I dream too big, and I am disappointed when that dream isn’t realized, primarily because I lacked motivation to put in any concrete effort to make it happen in the first place. I can by hypocritical and I contradict myself a lot. Sometimes I will antagonize a friend, or a frenemy just to see them squirm and I know exactly how to annoy people I don’t like, and relish the chance to do so. I ramble, talk too quickly and I am arrogant. Rarely do I find someone who is my intellectual superior, but realize that my ego is much bigger than my capacity. I can be vain, and egotistical. I have disdain for phoniness and can’t tolerate fake people, much like Holden Caulfied.

So why am I revealing all of this to you? Well I’ll tell you.

Too often in my life I have encountered colleagues, peers, or strangers who are unaware of their own faults. They seem to live in this fairy tale land where they are good, and everyone else is bad. They don’t take any accountability or responsibility for their actions and believe that everyone else is out to get them. They’re right. You’re wrong.

I’m willing to admit that maybe they aren’t so clueless, but they certainly don’t attempt to look at their own faults, their own demons, and by doing so, work on fixing them, or at least analyze why they are the way that they are.

Individuals behave badly because they are ultimately afraid. It’s fear that drives their lives, and influences them to commit desperate acts against their family, friends and colleagues.

Because of their inability to look inward and focus on self-improvement, they negatively impact the lives of the people around them, creating hostile, unfriendly environments based on their deep insecurities that compel them to behave so thoughtlessly.

The CFO at my last job was a tyrannical bully. He used intimidation methods to get his way, and could be heard yelling at staff and concerning him with matters that were not his business. At one point he complained about me to HR because I forgot my key to get into work.

It didn’t take long before he began to target me. I usually arrive early to work, before most of my colleagues, and he noticed this, knocking on my office door to berate me about something that was a figment of his imagination. Now, I know from my childhood that the only way to deal with a bully is to confront them head on, so I challenged him immediately. And because I recognized that he was attempting to manipulate me when there were no witnesses I lodged an official complaint with HR.

This didn’t do much to assuage my concerns, as many people had complained about this person and his behaviour was accepted by the executives. But I wanted to send the message that even though he was desperately trying to bully me, I wasn’t afraid of him.

After my complaint, he refused to speak to me, and I took a lot of joy in smiling at him while we passed each other in the corridor. His childlike mentality, his clear lack of self-awareness, told me all I needed to know about his character. Instead of apologizing, or trying to rectify the situation, he chose to ignore me completely. What a wonderful environment he was fostering. He was an example of a sad person. He enjoyed treating people terribly, and I thought what a pitiful little man he was, to find happiness in making other people miserable.

But here’s the thing: Most of my friends have similar experiences at work and it leaves me wondering why bad behaviour is often ignored, and those who fight against it are treated like they are the ones who are the problem.

What does it say about our fear? We’re so clearly afraid of losing our jobs that we refuse to speak up against injustices committed by our superiors. I for one don’t have a problem speaking up, because I am not tied to my job. It doesn’t determine my value, or my worth. What makes me enjoy my life is ensuring that I surround myself with people who are kind, decent and determined to make the world a better place for everyone in it. I will not accept anything less.

One just has to look at organized religion to see how such behaviour can effect the world.

I quote Julia Sweeney: “Stephen Hawking came out and said that his theory that Black Holes obliterate anything that falls into them, probably his biggest contribution to science, the theory that his fame and reputation is based on, may not be right. Wouldn’t it be great if the Pope could do the same thing? If he came out and said, “Oh my, I’ve just discovered what science shows us about our humble but spectacular place in the universe, and I have to say: it is thrilling and mind-boggling beyond all imaginings! It makes the Bible so puny and uninspired, and certainly less poetic, by comparison. I’m terribly sorry. I sincerely misunderstood so much. I almost wish there were a God so I could be punished for all the suffering I have obliviously caused in the world. But since there will be no cosmic punishment for me, I will spend what time I have left working in a family planning clinic in Latin America. Good day.”

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if our society focused on self-improvement with the goal of actually benefiting others? If we could admit that perhaps the way we conduct ourselves isn’t as enlightened as it could be? That perhaps we’re shit heads most of the time, and apologize for it. But not just apologize, work to ensure that we behave more benevolently?

Instead, we spend so much of our time thinking about our own pleasures; our motivations are to benefit our own lives. To get something, to attain some material object, or to satisfy our salivating egos.

In my life I have had some pretty terrible bosses. Bullies in heels, thoughtless individuals who care only about their life, and to hell with anyone else. To these people, everyone else exists as a means to an end. It’s almost too much to ask them where they get their motivation to behave the way that they do.

I list my faults at the beginning of this post because I acknowledge that I’m not perfect. Recognizing my flaws is an important step in addressing them, so that I can help build relationships, rather than allowing my insecurities to dismantle them. If I behave in a way that is unfair, I can identify that error, and work on correcting it.

I never want to be that kind of person who walks around thinking that everyone else is the problem. Usually when there is conflict the truth lies somewhere in between and both parties need to take a look at themselves and heal the fractured relationship.

Egos create a lot of unhappiness.

Movies of the week: God Said Ha! and Letting Go of God

Julia Sweeney

I forgot about my new movie of the week series so to make up for it I’m recommending two for you today.

Julia Sweeney is best remembered as the androgynous Pat from Saturday Night Live but she is also memorable for her one-woman shows that detail her battle with cancer and her journey from Catholicism to atheism.

After leaving the cast of SNL, Sweeney returned to Los Angeles where her marriage ended amicably and her brother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. During this time her parents move in to help care for her dying brother, but Sweeney’s own mortality is tested when she is diagnosed with cervical cancer. These events inspired her to write God Said Ha!, a life affirming film of subtle wit and grace. Sweeney’s delivery and razor-sharp intelligence is on full display throughout the 90 minute movie, which was produced by Quentin Tarantino.

After her brother dies, and she’s left with her own cancer, and her grieving parents, Sweeney does what she can to rebuild her life. But trust me, this is not a sad, gloomy one-woman show, in fact, the humour that Sweeney enlists to cope with these extraordinary circumstances brings much-needed relief to such heavy subject matter.

The second film is Letting Go of God. In it she discusses her Catholic upbringing, her own internal struggle with scripture and her eventual shift to atheism. Richard Dawkins references this movie many times in his book The God Delusion and for good reason: Sweeney is able to explain the reasons for her spiritual crisis in a manner that is never insulting to Catholics, though she does have reason, as she studied and read the Bible from front to back, when most Catholics can only recite certain versus. Her horror upon discovering how mean-spirited Jesus was, and how violent the stories in the Bible are, led to her knowledge quest.

So there you go. I recommend that you spend some cash and a little time and watch these two movies. I’m not exaggerating when I say they will open your mind to a world you probably never knew existed.

Thanks.

Craft Your Senses

Former colleagues of mine, Suzanne, Sue and Alex

Former colleagues of mine, Suzanne, Sue and Alex

This evening, Alex invited me to Craft Your Senses at 3030 Dundas Street West. It was an event to support my former employer, CNIB, a charitable organization that supports Canadians who are blind or partially sighted. There was diverse beer sampling and a raffle where I won a basket of baked goods. It was the best night ever. Now it’s raining and I’m super excited to make pancakes tomorrow. Here are the photographs I took, and I thank you for looking at them!

I joined the team!

I joined the team!

Sue is so small we have to kneel down to be in a photo with her!

Sue is so small we have to kneel down to be in a photo with her!

Pig beer

Pig beer

The menu

The menu

Mixed tape

Mixed tape

Beer sign

Beer sign

Controlling my excitement after winning baked goods!

Controlling my excitement after winning baked goods!

And now, just being really excited!

And now, just being really excited!

The best apron ever

The best apron ever

NYC friends

BeautifulImage

Via the doll incident.

Long night, I’m tired

Lisa and painting 2

Lisa designs the covers of books for the publishing company Harper Collins and gets invited to really cool events, including book signings and what not. Yesterday we went to an art gallery opening and then walked over to her house to eat some vegan curry and watch the remaining episodes of The Walking Dead’s third season. After that, and a lot of wine, we went to a karaoke bar for some person’s birthday, the person being an individual who I last saw 10 years ago, and I barely spoke to her all night. These are the only photos from what was. Now I’m severely tired and in desperate need of coffee. What I learned is that I should start selling my photographs for $2,600.

Oh yeah, and just to add, I submitted an essay to The Globe and Mail and they have agreed to publish it. I’ll let you know when it is available online and in print.

Lisa and painting

Pretty

Vegan Curry

Lisa’s vegan curry

My friend Michelle

Image

This evening I ventured to Bloorcourt Village to see my friend Michelle at the Hogtown Vegan. After a hearty consumption of southern comfort food — vegan style! —  we went for some beers at the little hipster palace Disgraceland. Michelle is leaving for Shanghai later this month. We met a couple of years ago, before she moved to Italy, and I traversed to Argentina. Michelle and I spend a lot of time talking about love and how our egos, and our fear of rejection, often get in the way of making courageous decisions that could impact our life, and future happiness. So profound! It was a nice evening with a great friend. Michelle is a kindred spirit of mine, and I value her friendship dearly. I’m old and tired. Good night.

Franco

Healing old wounds: Friendship battle scars

Raquel and me

Raquel and me

Like any relationship, friendships need to be nurtured. I’ve invested deeply in the ones that I believe are worth my energy and that commitment has strengthened my character. A good friend is someone who will accept you for who you are, remain judgment free and whom you can trust. I haven’t always succeeded at honouring these criteria myself, but maturing has helped me live what I preach.

Raquel and I lived together when we were in third year university and I treated her horribly. After four months, and one awful argument, I moved out and we spoke little for some time after. However, because of her big heart and forgiving nature we eventually resolved the conflict, buried the hatchet and remain close today. Though we see each other infrequently in the winter, that usually corrects itself in the warmer, albeit shorter summer months.

Lisa and me

Lisa and me

Lisa and I have known each other since we were 6-years-old and our parents houses are separated by just one block. Many times when we were younger we would walk through our neighbourhood and make fun of the Christmas decorations on the houses. Then we would go to the local pub and drink lager and sing bad karaoke. Fun times. Like me, Lisa went travelling, having lived in Taiwan and India for almost three years. Seems like such a long time ago.

Due to our long-lasting friendship Lisa and I have a tendency to fight like siblings and we once went almost a year without speaking to one another. I think you treat the people you love the most the worst, and we’ve exchanged some awful words. But that was a long time ago, and since then we’ve learned to respect ourselves more, and in doing so strengthened our bond. Lisa and I have a tendency to annoy those around us because we often fall into childish behaviour when together, laughing uncontrollably at what would appear to others as banal observations.

The most beneficial part of any platonic relationship is that when things aren’t going as well as they have in the past, you can step away for a bit and reflect on what the person means to you, and if the friendship is still enriching your life. Some friendships are meant to end, because you both grow in different directions. Some of us regress, while others flourish.

However, a good friendship stands the test of time. You can go three, four years without setting eyes on each other, but when you reunite, it’s like no time has passed at all.

Lisa Dead

My favourite picture of all time. Christmas 2005 and Lisa had a little too much to drink!

Girlfriends

Girlfriends

Claire, Jo and me in London, England

What would a gay man amount to if he wasn’t surrounded by fabulously beautiful female friends? They went to the prom with us for God’s sake! I have been insanely privileged to have the best friends in the world. I’ve met so many lovely women in my lifetime that I count myself as one very lucky human being. They’ve been there for me through my neurotic episodes and rarely judged me, even though it must have been hard not to. Ladies, I salute you. FYI, Scientologists are trying to kill me. I’m not joking. I wrote Kirstie Alley one mean tweet and now they’re out to get me.

Girlfriends 3

Lisa and I had too much to drink and stole a bike in High Park!

Girlfriends 4

Martha lives in Montreal now

Raquel and me in early days

Raquel and me in early days. Look how much I “used” to drink.

Girlfriends 5

Alex and Nicola with moi

Girlfriends 6

The now reclusive Kathleen and me in NYC

Girlfriends 7

Audrey and me in Guelph, Ontario. Ignore the naked lady in the back. We were young! She’s kinda photo bombing us.

Girlfriends 8

Alisha and me

Rebecca, Ellen and Adam

Rebecca, Ellen and Adam

Franco and Lori

Cray cray Lori who I love dearly

Run

Allyson and me after our Sporting Life 10K run in 2009

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