As I parked my car, I noticed two individuals stepping out of their car in front of mine. One of the men immediately made eye contact with me and waved. I’m pretty nearsighted, and I have a constant fear of not recognising people I know who wave at me, so, hesitantly, I smiled and waved back, thinking he may be some former employee of mine when I had worked at IKEA.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case.

“Hi,” he greeted, a friendly smile crossing his face. As I stepped out of my car, my heart sank as I realized this man, and the friend who accompanied him, were absolute strangers.

“Uh… hi,” I replied nervously, turning toward the front entrance of the store.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he stepped closer to me, his friend watching a few feet behind him.

In an instance like this, when met by men I have no interest in, I usually come up with a fake name. Unfortunately, I’d begun to panic so I blurted out my real name and immediately hated myself for it.

“You’re beautiful! Do you have a boyfriend?” he asked as he fell into step beside me.

This time, the fake answer came easily. “Yes, he lives in Seattle.” I smiled dismissively and picked up my pace. He picked up his pace too.

“Does he let you have friends?” I was beginning to become really annoyed at this point, and I decided to not answer him and continue my way into IKEA.

“Aw… you don’t want to be my friend?” he called after me.

As I rushed inside, a sense of relief washed over me as I noticed he’d decided not to move his harassment into IKEA. I was still pretty unnerved, so when I’d finished looking around IKEA, I decided to glance at the front entrance where I’d come in to see if they were there. Incredibly, both men had stationed themselves outside, their attention towards the direction of where I’d parked.

I didn’t hesitate to speak with IKEA’s security team to have them escort me to my car.

An experience like that left a horrible taste in my mouth. It led to me remember another instance when I’d been approached by another young man a few weeks ago. I had just as little interest in the other man as the guy who had approached me in IKEA, but I can certainly say the other young man was a bit more successful and the experience was a lot more pleasant.

I had just finished going on a mini shopping spree at the Eaton’s Center and Toronto. Tired, I decided to take a break and sit outside Toronto’s gorgeous City Hall building. The afternoon sun was beginning to set, splashing a golden, warm glow on everything. Surrounded by my many bags, I was completely content.

It was then I noticed a young man, his hands in his pockets, stepping towards me. Just like with the other guy in the parking lot, he was completely not my type. But one difference between them was that I didn’t feel threatened or scared, but curious as to what he had to say.

The man looked a little nervous, something I found endearing. With a small smile, he said, “Hi.”

He immediately had my attention. “Hi,” I replied.

“Are you a tourist?” he asked, glancing down at the camera in my hands.

My appreciation of the warm light of the sun had caused me to take pictures of my surroundings.

“No,” I laughed, “Just taking pictures.”

“I see.” He took a small pause before saying, “Did you go shopping today?”
I quickly looked down at the 5 shopping bags surrounding me and said, “Yes.” I saw he was quickly running out of material.

Another silence fell between us before he bowed slightly and said, “K, then… hope you have a nice day!”

“You too,” I said, and gave him a smile as he shuffled away, his hands in his pockets.

With this experience, I walked away feeling flattered and happy. When I compared the two, it was very clear to me what made one a little more successful than the other. For the guys out there, here are some tips you can use for when deciding to approach a woman:

• Leave some confidence at the door:
While some confidence is good, too much can come off as aggressive and intimidating. Of course I can’t speak for all the women out there, but when I see that the guy is a little nervous, my immediate instinct is to make him feel as comfortable as possible. It takes lot of guts to approach a stranger.

• Avoid an audience to your attempt:
One of the most unnerving things about IKEA parking lot guy was his silent friend who watched in the background. Having your friends hover behind you a few steps away as you hit on girls makes it seem like you’re doing this more for their entertainment than for actual interest.

• Assess if your location is appropriate:
I feel incredibly vulnerable stepping out of my car alone in a parking lot. It’s a place where a lot of crime tends to happen. If you see a pretty girl in a parking lot alone that you MUST approach, it would be much better for her nerves if you decide to wait until she is inside the store where there are witnesses present.

• Wait to ask the “Do you have a boyfriend?” question:
Asking this right off the bat makes you appear incredibly cheesy and overly bold. It’s definitely not something I want to hear from a guy the first minute after making contact with him, even less so when I hear it from someone I have no interest in. In fact, don’t ask this question at all. It’s definitely much better to learn it from the girl through conversation. If it’s information she’s willing to share unprompted by yourself, it can be an indicator that she may be interested in you.

• Learn when to walk away:
Guys, I can’t stress this enough. Once it can be determined that the girl has no interest in you (and we will give you clear signs), then cut your losses and step back. IKEA parking lot guy should’ve walked away when I began to walk away myself. If the girl is physically removing herself from the situation, then it’s best not to follow her. Failure to do this will immediately alarm and frighten us.

When approached by a guy, my guard is up right away. While I appreciate men who can muster up the courage to take a chance by talking to me, I appreciate subtlety even more. Be more focussed on a conversation that will encourage the girl to talk about her interests. The guy from Toronto was on the right track when he made a point to mention my shopping and my camera. If he had better conversation skills, I have no doubt I would’ve invited him to take a seat.

So take a cue from him and I guarantee you that the girl will at least not feel the need to involve the authorities.

Good ways to spend “me” time:

• Shopping:
Everyone talks about the benefits of retail therapy. While this expression of “me” time isn’t exactly healthy for one’s credit card, you can justify the expenses by thinking of all the savings you’ll be accumulating from no longer being in a relationship. For instance, prior to ending the relationship with my long-distance lover, I was planning and budgeting for a $600 plane ticket to Seattle. I was also budgeting for moving out on my own, gifts to him and his family for Christmas, and other boyfriend-related crap. The end of our relationship may have heralded the end of late-night sexting, but it now introduced the dawn of increased savings. A warning here, though. Don’t over do it! I cannot stress the importance of a monthly budget. Live by the simple rule: don’t spend more than you make.

• Get out of the house:
While your bed may seem like your best friend during this time of healing, it really does help to spend as much time as you can out of it. If you have a car, drive. Where, you ask me? Anywhere you want to. Without a car? Go for walks. Walk the dog, cat, ferret. Just try your best to avoid hibernating in your room. Your body, mind, and heart will thank you.

• Find some hobbies and commit to them:
Prior to breaking up with my ex, I had very little interests other than finding out who was the next person to be voted off of Survivor. Reality television was (and still is, embarrassingly) my thing. I recognized the problem with this even before I broke up with my ex and brainstormed some extra-curricular activities I can begin devoting my time to. Interested in toning my body, my attention turned to Yoga. I enrolled in a month-long unlimited plan with a local Hot Yoga studio and fell in love with my classes. It was something to look forward to while getting fit at the same time.

• Cry:
Our bodies are vessels of emotion. Every day, every second, we feel something new, our emotions swinging from one thought to the next. One moment I felt like I was doing the right thing and the next I was retreating into a glass box of emotion. Here’s a universal truth: break-ups are sad (duh!). He/she was a huge part of your life. It’s okay to mourn the loss of that.

Here are some not-so-good ways to spend “me” time post-breakup:

• Obsessing:
You can go in circles thinking of all the scenarios of how/why the relationship went down the path that it did. The best thing to do with a breakup is to accept it. It’s over! There’s really not much point in thinking too much about a relationship that wasn’t healthy/strong enough to avoid self-destruction.

• Filling the void with your old friend—calories:
Breaking up with your boyfriend can leave a huge, gaping void in your life. A void that a lot of women instinctually feel the need to fill with food. I know happiness comes in the form of bowls topped with mounds of mocha almond fudge ice cream and brown paper sacs filled with Big Macs, but just remember—those moments of bliss are temporary. When the food’s gone and digested, you’ll still be sans boyfriend…

• Wondering what your ex is doing, why he isn’t messaging you, analyzing his actions post-breakup:
One thing about break-ups is that you’re now free to figure out life on your own. As much as you may have loved your ex and as much time you’ve spent building your life and dreams around him, ending a relationship means you’re now living for yourself. Moving on requires a break from spending any time mulling over what may be happening on your ex’s end. Make the breakup be about you.

• Planning out who your next relationship is going to be with:
I have to admit, some time was spent after breaking up with my ex going over the single men I knew and the possibilities that lay therein. And then I realized how unhealthy jumping into a new relationship would be. Especially after just ending one that lasted over a year. Do yourself a favour and FORCE some time of independence on yourself. I know those pangs of loneliness are tough when watching Moulin Rouge and re-runs of Rich Bride, Poor Bride on the Slice Channel. But carrying several suitcases of baggage into a new relationship does not lay the ground work for future happiness. Give yourself time to heal and learn from your mistakes. Pick the next guy wisely and only after some time has gone by, out of respect for your ex, and yourself.

Breakups are extremely tough on all parties involved. It’s a time of heart-ache and self-reevaluation. As hard as it is to move on, the best thing you can do for yourself is to make yourself a priority. Now is the time for your needs. The right kind of “me” time can go a long way in helping yourself to realize that you’re a wonderful person who is strong and can fend for herself/himself. Your next boyfriend/girlfriend will appreciate this healthier, happier you and so will yourself.

The trip, however, didn’t start off so well. I remember the night before we left almost perfectly:

“Alright, so I’ll wake up at 6 and wake you up after, okay?” I yawned as I tucked him into bed. My parents had segregated us to separate sleeping quarters.

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, sounds good. Can’t wait!”

See, the timing of our waking up was important as we’d already bought our greyhound tickets and needed to be in Toronto by a certain time.

Knowing all of this, as I tucked myself into my own bed, I drowsily set my alarm to 7:00 am. I’m not sure why, but I do things like this ALL THE TIME. Very basic, and—quite frankly—stupid, mistakes that cost me dearly.

So, at about 6:50, my dad—who I’d told about our trip and who’d agreed to drive me and my boyfriend to the train station—knocked on my door wondering why I was still passed out. What ensued in the next twenty minutes was absolute, manic chaos. I rushed downstairs to find my boyfriend already awake and confused.

Have you ever done something stupid and then got irrationally defensive about it afterwards even though you knew very well you were the one at fault? Yeah, this is also something that I do all the time and exactly how I felt during the whole two hours it took to get to Toronto (that I’ll explain later)—at the expense of my poor boyfriend.

I live in Brampton, so my plan was to catch a GO train to Union station from Bramalea station. Unfortunately, due to my mistake, we missed the train by a couple of minutes. We actually saw the train pull away as we drove up to the station. And to add insult to injury, the next train was scheduled to come 40 minutes later.

Remember the defensiveness about being stupid? Well, that also leads to me needing to hear something comforting about the resulting situation. Something like, “It’s okay, honey! We’ll catch our bus in time” or “At least we’re finally on our way!” Fortunately, my boyfriend is the type to do exactly this in similar situations. Yet for some reason, this morning he was pretty quiet, causing my mood to worsen.

I can be absolutely stubborn when I’m angry. Even when I start to think that I should let an issue go, I’ll tighten my irrational claws on my anger, not wanting to feel better. In fact, there’s a part of me that enjoys and revels in my bad moods. This morning was no different. No matter what my boyfriend tried to do to make me feel better, I pulled away even further, finding more fault in what he did. I guess it was a way for me to balance what I’d done. If he was doing something wrong then that made my mistake less prominent.

In any case, it was a pretty miserable ride to Union station.
When we finally got there, the excitement of the trip began to overtake my anger and I slowly started to emerge from it. Whenever I get out of those types of moods, I always feel the same: ashamed and embarrassed and wishing it had never happened. I begin to treat my boyfriend with kindness, expressing my regret.

With past boyfriends, these moods have led to huge, emotionally-straining fights that last much longer than they should and cause tiny, insignificant issues to explode into expletive-laced, painful supernovas. This was mainly because I’ve dated men as irrational and stubborn as I when it came to arguing. My current boyfriend has been something of a wonder to me. He’s met almost every one of my outbursts with stoic calm, waiting for the storm to blow over and then welcoming me back into his arms after all is said and done.

His manner towards me has given me an idea of what unconditional love is like from a boyfriend. It’s begun to mature me, and cause me to view situations differently. I’ve also started to see the situation beyond the irrationality of my bad moods while I’m in them. I’m a better person because of it. I’ve dated a lot in the past and understand that this is a unique, rare, and precious gift. I don’t take it for granted and am so thankful for it.

When we got to Union station, we needed to find the subway to get to Dundas, where the Greyhound station was. It was a bit of a confusing walk, since Union’s a huge place. When we finally found it, we hopped on a train and sped to Dundas.

As we emerged from being underground, the chill of downtown Toronto finally hit me. It was absolutely freezing that day! At -4 degrees, the windchill made the air feel like -20. The wind that hit my face seemed to cut into my skin and breeze easily through my jacket and scarf like they weren’t there. It was a bit of a walk to the Greyhound station and I would glance every now and then at my boyfriend—a native of Tacoma, Washington—with sympathy.

I’ve experienced it firsthand: Washington rarely gets weather below 0
in the wintertime. Yet whenever I asked, he insisted he was fine, trooper that he is. I, however, was a thankful girl when we spotted the Greyhound station.

As we arrived at the station, we received another great surprise: our bus wasn’t even there. So, after about 20 minutes of waiting for it outside in the FREEZING cold, we were ushered inside to wait for our bus. When it came another 20 minutes later, we were FINALLY on our way!

Long bus rides are absolutely amazing to me. I love them. Just the feeling of settling in and the comfort of knowing where you’ll go is a great experience. As we pulled away from downtown, the CN tower seemed to wave goodbye to us, tall and solid, nestled amongst Toronto’s skyscrapers like a queen surrounded by her subjects. The sky was also completely cloudless and the warmth of the sun streaming in from my window made me feel completely at peace. I instantly fell asleep.

When I woke up, we were nearly at Niagara Falls. By now, I’d forgotten about the unpleasantness of the morning and looked forward to the trip ahead. When we were dropped off at the station, we decided to walk to the Falls and the city centre where our hotel was. Since the day was so beautiful, we thought it would be a treat.

Walking along River road was a good idea. In the giant stretch of blue sky above us, a giant, misty cloud rose from a source not too far away. Like a beacon, it was the vapour evaporating from the Falls calling us to our final destination. As we progressed towards it, we saw multiple bed and breakfasts that peppered the road. Almost every other house boasted vacancy status. To a honeymooning couple or for those just looking to get away without being a part of the hustle and bustle of the tourist district, this would appeal to them greatly.

The walk to our hotel took us about 40 minutes but neither of us minded as there was so much to gawk at. I loved the look on my boyfriend’s face when we spotted the bridge to America. Niagara’s border is also a popular place to pass into the States. His face expressed even more excitement as the roar of the American Falls reached our ears. As we marveled at it, I didn’t hesitate to remind him he was in fact seeing the lesser of the two waterfalls. The better of the two lay, of course, on the Canadian side.

Not that the American side isn’t cool. It most certainly is! Huge amounts of water spill over a straight edge into the river below. Massive ice blocks cap areas of the falls where the pressure of the water wasn’t enough to rush them away.

We saw the Horseshoe Falls from a distance, but decided to head to our hotel since we were eager to get something to eat and to drop our bags off. The Howard Johnson where I’d made reservations sat on top of Clifton Hill and was quite the climb to get to. The hotel’s right in the middle of tourist traps such as the Ripley’s Believe It or Not museum and the wax museums, as well as the casinos, which is part of the reason why I picked it.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from the Howard Johnson. It offered a great rate, but the reviews on the websites were pretty much split on the hotel’s quality. Yet when we got there, we were greeted immediately by an extremely friendly manager who didn’t hesitate to lock our bags away while we ate somewhere and waited until our check-in time.

Free of our bags, we eagerly set out to grab a bite. Unfortunately, we were about to find out just how much the Niagara area is affected by its off-season. Many places were closed. A lot of casual eateries were shut down for the winter, to our dismay. Even a Starbucks we found was closed. My boyfriend had a craving for Subway and we passed by two closed ones before we settled on a Tim Horton’s by the Falls.

After lunch, we headed by the Falls and marveled at it. Since it was brilliantly sunny, an enormous rainbow stretched from the depths of the falls to the hotels on the hilltop. At some angles it almost looked like a double rainbow. Double Rainbow Guy would’ve lost his shit. The rainbow even shows prominently in the pictures we took.

The ice everywhere was almost as spectacular as the Falls. The gates built to keep tourists safely away from tumbling headlong into the river were capped with thick layers of ice. The sun caused the lower layers to melt, making shelves in the ice and interesting shapes. It was a lot of fun to kick at the ice like I was twelve and break the formations. Even more fun to take the broken shards and chuck them into the raging river and Falls.

Further fun was had placing a penny in the ice to watch it melt through.

Dinner was great too. Since a lot of places were closed, we asked for a recommendation from the hotel manager and he suggested an Italian place nearby. The best pizzas I ever ate had artichokes on them, and the pizza I ate at the Italian place was no different. It was an amazing dinner.

Another thing affected by the off-season? All the tourist-trap museums. We couldn’t even waste money on them because they were all closed! However, they were all still brilliantly lit up and made for a great walk towards a casino where we gambled for a bit before we headed back to the American Falls to gaze at it for a moment.

One amazing aspect of visiting the Falls during the off-season: the quiet. My boyfriend and I were completely alone as we watched the water tumble over the edge of the American side. Despite the chill in the air and darkness of the night, sharing a quiet moment with him filled me with warmth.

Our room at the Howard Johnson was absolutely amazing. I got a lot for my money. The icing on the cake was definitely the heart-shaped tub I thankfully soaked in for hours.

We headed back to Toronto the next morning. What were my boyfriend’s impressions of one of the most amazing natural wonders in the world? He enjoyed himself thoroughly. It’s definitely a place I hope to visit with him again in the future, but perhaps when it’s a bit warmer.

When I first came to Korea, I was not a fan of spice, so I was one of those who was fairly concerned about what Koreans had to offer in terms of food. Not only did a year of teaching in Korea help me discover a newfound love of spicy food, but also of Korean food. I grew to love kimchi—a spicy fermented cabbage served as a side dish in almost every Korean restaurant—as well as all of the other vegetable side dishes offered, which Koreans call banchan. And not everything was spicy. Most of the vegetable side dishes are neutral or sweet in flavour, serving as a means to balance the often hot and spicy flavours of the main dish.

I remember the first time I stepped into a Korean restaurant. I was into my first week of living in Korea and I decided to try eating in one of the many Korean restaurants in my neighbourhood.

The posters of food that decorated the restaurant were colourful pictures of cooked meats. The tables contained a small grilling surface in the center, with a vacuum hovering above it to suck in the cooking smoke. I figured I’d entered some sort of Korean barbeque restaurant—a type of restaurant familiar to me since they have a few in Toronto.
So I picked a table, settled down, and gazed blankly at the menu that was posted on the wall next to where I sat. To my dismay, the menu was written entirely in Korean without any pictures showing what was listed. When the Korean worker approached my table, I realized he didn’t speak a lick of English so I decided to pick something randomly and hope for the best.

At this point, I had no idea of pricing and what things were supposed to cost. Since I was living on limited funds (I’d yet to receive a paycheck), I didn’t want to spend too much so I turned my attention to the cheaper side of the menu. The prices ranged from 20,000 to 4,000 won ($18-$3.50 Canadian), and I figured that the items priced at 4,000 won must be smaller portions of the higher-priced items. So when the worker came over to my table and apprehensively waited for my order, I pointed to one of the items listed at 4,000 won, completely unsure of what I’d ordered.

The waiter looked at what I’d pointed at, turned back to me puzzled, and then said something that I’d interpreted as, “Are you sure?” At this point, I was getting nervous about what I’d ordered, but determined to find out, I nodded and he walked away, chuckling softly to himself.

When my food finally came, I was shocked. What the waiter laid before me were five small bowls of vegetable side dishes. They were filled with kimchi, radish, coleslaw, a leafy green vegetable, and seaweed soup. The waiter also set down a bottle of some mysterious drink, the contents of which made me choke a bit when I tasted it.

I honestly did not think that what I’d been given was the entirety of my order. I waited 15 minutes for some meat to grill before I realized my order was only going to be the side dishes—nothing more. Oh, and the drink, which I was to discover was an alcoholic drink widely consumed in Korea called makgeolli. I was so embarrassed that I continued to act like this was exactly what I’d intended to order and quietly finished the small side dishes without a word. The bottle of makgeolli remained nearly full on the table when I got up to pay.

After I’d made friends, discovering Korean food was a lot easier. The meat that you grill is called galbi and is made of beef or pork. I’m not sure how one orders either beef or pork galbi, but I do know that the more expensive your galbi is, the more likely it’s beef, not pork. And wherever I’ve gone to eat galbi, banchan were always served prior to the meat, which you grill yourself. The side dishes are refilled for free if you ask.

Korean restaurant owners for the most part leave you to your business, but there’ve been instances when women servers have grabbed the grilling tongs from my boyfriend’s hands and cooked our meat for us, as though he were doing it wrong. Otherwise, if you want their attention to get more of anything, a hand in the air with a loud “yo-gi-oh” or “cho-gi-oh” will do the trick. Saying “yo-gi-oh” means “over here!” and “cho-gi-oh” means “over there!” Such commands will also come in handy when in a taxi cab and you need them to stop at a specific place.

Something more delicious than galbi was a dish called dak galbi, which, like galbi, is cooked right in front of you. But instead of beef or pork, the meat is chicken with leeks, cabbage, bean sprouts, and small rice cakes. This was my favourite meal to eat in Korea, hands down. It’s very spicy, but in a good way. I also loved how Korean barbeques provided you with stacks of leafy lettuce that you can roll your meat in and eat like a taco. It had a cooling effect on the spicy dak galbi and also went great with galbi. This lettuce is called sanchu and to order more, which I frequently did, I just raised my hand and said, “Yo-gi-oh!” and then, “Sanchu, ju-se-yo” meaning, “I want lettuce.”

Eating galbi was more on the expensive end of Korean dining. A single portion costs from 6,000 to 12,000 won ($5.35-$10.71 Canadian). There was one instance when I visited Busan that my boyfriend and I found a galbi place selling portions at 3,000 won ($2.68 Canadian) each. But one can be fed Korean food quite cheaply if you visit a Gimbap Cheonguk, which translates to “Gimbap Heaven.”

These places were more like little snack shops that sold Korean food costing 1,000 to 5,000 won. The food at 1,000 won included basic gimbap: Korean sushi rolls with ham, radish, and a few veggies. What I loved to order from these places were the bigger dishes like bibimbap (rice, meat, and veggies served in a hot bowl), ramyeon (noodle soup that you can also get with a slice of processed cheese on top), and all kinds of jigae (boiling hot soup). All orders (even the kimbap) come with a small side dish of kimchi and broth. The bigger the order, the more sides you get.

Kimchi jigae was my favourite hangover cure. The soup is filled with kimchi, glass noodles, rice cake, leeks, onions, and chunks meat. A bowl of rice is served on the side as well. I know it might not sound delicious at all, but it was one of the best things to eat for me in Korea and I miss it dearly now that I’m back in Toronto.

Other cheap places to eat were the various street meat vendors that were very common in the downtown area of Cheonan. They sold anything from grilled meat on a stick to fried egg bread (a favourite of my boyfriend’s). There were hotdogs wrapped in bacon, dried squid, hotdogs in buns, hamburgers, and kebab wraps. Street meat vendors selling Korean food sold kimbap, mandu (fried dumpling), strips of battered and fried squid, and tteokbokki (rice cake in a spicy sauce). These were great places to catch a bite after a late night of drinking as they are usually open quite late.

The variety of food available is enormous.

Combining the two things makes for a good time so I did just that a few days ago, joining my friends *Donna and *Daniela to a diner called Wimpy’s. It’s a great little diner-dive place with the typical greasy, griddle food fare. We settled in and were enjoying a great meal when Donna dropped a bomb on me.

“Speaking of douchebags,” said Donna in between chews of her club sandwich, “I saw *Josh the other day.”

My heart froze. Most women have had that one disaster of a relationship (usually in their teens when one is dramatic and stupid) that continues to haunt them as they continue into adulthood. Josh was that guy. I went through everything with him: abuse (emotional and physical), drugs (his use, not mine), and police involvement. How I’m alive today is borderline miraculous, but the important thing is I was able to escape the situation.

“Where?” I asked.

Donna waved her hand in the air, “You know, here and there.”

My eyes widened. “Like, all the time?”

“Mostly at Chapters.”

My friend Daniela had seen him too. Josh sightings have been eerily frequent during my adventure to Korea. I shudder to imagine what would happen if I were to run into him now. I like to take moments every now and then to compare that relationship with the one I have now. It’s honestly like comparing Robert Downy Jr.’s former destructive self to his current success. And both stories owe their happy endings to decisions well made.

I met *Chris the first week of my time in Korea. He was one of the three men I initially met during Pool Night. Tall, with an athletic build and long blonde hair kept back with an elastic hair band, he really wasn’t my type. I tend to be drawn to men with dark hair whose artistic, quirky personalities mirrored my own. They usually were considered nerds by society, as I am, and I relished in their geeky habits.

I would find out during Pool Night that Chris came from Tacoma, Washington and his calm, laid-back manner reflected the relaxed West Coast persona one would expect. He loved being active—running was his passion—and was very family oriented. He knew every word of John Denver’s “Country Home,” and idolized Kenny Chesney and the Rascal Flats.

In spite of all this (or perhaps because of all this), I found myself drawn to him and he was the only person I gave my number to that night. Perhaps it was because I’d never met anyone like him before and there was something in him that I’d always wanted in my life. He was a person who hadn’t seemed to have experienced any ugliness in his life and he exuded a warmth one acquires from being raised in a family filled with love.

That same night I met *John, a half-American half-Korean man of 28. He’d been in Korea for 3 years and did not see himself coming back to America any time soon. The ease of his job and the hoards of Korean women available to him made the idea of returning to America less and less appealing the longer he stayed.

John gestured to Chris, “So me and my partner in crime here are heading to a club Friday night. You’re more than welcome to come along.”

I considered his invitation pretty seriously. I really wanted to start making friends and I had no other plans. Unfortunately, I didn’t end up going that night due to my lack of knowledge concerning taxis and where train stations were.

In the meantime, I hung around Raye and Juliet, going shopping, discovering Korea, and planning Saint Patrick’s Day. They were going to a town called Hongdae in Seoul for the event. I realized that Seoul was a massive city filled with dozens of towns each with their own name. Hongdae is popular for their extremely happening night life. Amazing nightclubs play Western music and foreigners swarm by the hundreds to dance the night away.

Sipping wine at a wine bar, Juliet decided to tell me about her friend *Karl. “So cute! But special.”

Special? My interest was piqued. “How so?”

“Well, he absolutely adores musicals. He can sing the entire intro to Little Ship of Horrors.”

“Little Shop of Horrors,” I corrected her. And it was at this point that slight interest turned into genuine intrigue. You see, I enjoy musicals at a nearly unhealthy level. Finding a guy that not only understands that but also shares in that joy is a rare and unique gem.

“Oh, he’d like you,” decided Juliet with a smile. “He’s struck out so much with girls, unfortunately. You may find him a little awkward.”

A little secret here: I love geeks. Big time.

When I met Karl he was everything Juliet had told me and more: cute, insanely into musicals, funny, and a huge nerd. He lived in a town called Ilsan, which was quite a ways away. It took a long bus ride to get there from Cheonan, my town being the very southernmost subway stop in the Seoul line, his town being the northernmost subway stop. I visited him a few times and enjoyed his company, but I couldn’t get Chris out of my mind.

Maybe a lot of my past relationships didn’t work out because they were too much like me. Perhaps I wanted someone to show me another side of life, to balance my passions and interests with completely different tastes and hobbies.

John had a larger than usual apartment with two rooms in addition to his bathroom and kitchen area. Because of this, he liked to host various events at his place. One of these events was a poker night that I decided to attend one evening. Of course, Chris was there too.

Poker, or any kind of gambling for that matter, isn’t really my thing. I’d rather keep my money, thanks. But the game is kind of fun and making friends isn’t too bad either. Chris had some great news: he’d just purchased a scooter to help him get around places. Buying a scooter is one of the best things a guy teaching in Korea could buy. It saves LOADS on gas, gets you places lickity-split, and really impresses the girls.

Like me.

So at the end of the night, when Chris offered anyone who wanted one a ride home, I eagerly accepted. His scooter was awesome and intimidating at the same time—a huge turn on.

“You’re his first passenger, you know,” said John after I mounted. “Make sure he’s careful.”

“O…kay,” I replied a little nervously.

The ride home was great. John’s neighbourhood, Dujeong-dong, is right next to mine so it was literally a 5 minute ride. When we got to my house, I took off Chris’s massive helmet and handed it to him.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said.

He smiled back, “Anytime.”

It was so simple. And Karl was the farthest thing from my mind.

This all happened within the first couple of weeks I was in Korea, which essentially threw out my initial idea of not only not having any friends, but also not falling in love. You can’t come to Korea with any expectations. Everyone’s experience is unique and different with surprises for everybody, both good and bad.

Love works the same way. It often finds you when you’re not looking. I was a little foolish to think I could escape it, flying to the other side of the world. I dated both Karl and Chris for about a week before I chose Chris and dumped Karl—a story which deserves its own blog post. 10 months later, back in Toronto, I speak with Chris very often on Skype. He plans to visit very soon. I’ve got a good feeling our adventures together will continue beyond Korea as I build a new life on this side of the world.

*Names have been changed.

The first couple of days in Korea were a daze. Here I was, a wide-eyed Canadian living in my own space for the first time, my absent blackberry no longer vibrating constantly in my pocket, and planning what to feed myself throughout the day. It was amazing, and my first taste of freedom. I’ve come from a home of very strict, overbearing, and protective parents. Going to Korea was as much an escape from them as it was from my hectic social life. I was almost drunk with my new-found independence and I loved it!

But as I predicted, I was lonely. The teachers in my new school were distant, and, well, Korean. Their English was halting and awkward at best. They were extremely formal and I knew with a sinking heart that I could never develop meaningful friendships with any of them. But I was prepared for this, so it wasn’t a huge deal. I enjoyed walking the streets of my neighbourhood, Baek-Suk Dong, alone, taking pictures of absolutely everything, but it sucked experiencing this amazing adventure without any friends.

Self-reflection only told me that I needed a friend.

While working, I guess I wore my loneliness wrapped around me like a scarf because my boss approached me one night and asked if I was lonely. This took me aback quite a bit. He never seemed to care whether or not the students of my class were being little shits, let alone if I had any friends outside of work. After insisting I was fine and having fun in Korea, he then asked if I had made any friends. To this question, I admitted I hadn’t and that was when he offered to introduce me to another foreign teacher from another school that his friend was a principal of.

Although I had planned on a lonely year of self-reflection, I didn’t see the harm of meeting another foreigner. I welcomed it! I craved hearing another voice speak English fluently, who didn’t add an extra syllable at the end of every other word. I wanted someone to react to my humour in a way other than awkward silence. I’d learned quickly that sarcasm doesn’t translate well across cultures. So I eagerly agreed and he set up a play date.

*Raye was tall, blonde, beautiful, and had been in Korea almost 8 months at that point. She carried about her an air of someone who had seen it all, and would be gracious enough to advise me, an ignorant new-comer, on everything. Although she spoke to me literally with her nose in the air, blue eyes appraising me, and a smug tone in her Tennessee-accented voice, Raye seemed very eager to befriend me.

“Ted,” she drawled when her boss was wondering what to order us for dinner. “Do you think she’d like kimbap? I feel like rice so I want bibimbap…” My eyes widened with wonder at the Korean words she threw around with such casual grace. I wanted that to be me someday.

After our meal (which was absolutely fantastic, Ted having ordered for me some sort of stir fry) Raye and I exchanged numbers and quickly arranged some meetings in the future. On one of our outings, she introduced me to another beautiful blonde (from England this time) named *Juliet. A little older at 28, Juliet had been in Korea for 3 years and worked the much coveted university job. Like Raye, she also wore a very cultured aura around her, but with a frank humour devoid of any pretension.

“Oh, you’ll love Korea. I know I do,” she happily shared as we sipped coffees. “I love it a little too much, I think.”

To my amazement, I found that both girls knew the teacher I’d replaced, Juliet having had somewhat of an interesting relationship with him.

“Oh, I was so worried when Raye told me the new Bookstart teacher was Canadian! But then she said you were a girl and then I was so relieved!” Apparently she had been involved with not only the teacher I replaced, but with the teacher he had replaced, both men being from Canada. I was to learn of the familiarity most foreigners shared with each other in Cheonan very quickly. Everyone seemed to know everybody and each foreigner had at least one funny, intimate story with another foreigner.

As we shopped the dozens of stands of shoes (Korea is the shoe nation of the world), we passed by a pool hall. “That’s where they have pool night,” Raye informed me.

“OOOOH! Newbie night is coming up, right?” Julia interjected. “She could be our newbie! Wouldn’t that be fun?” There was an event held in the downtown part of Cheonan called “Pool Night” run by someone I had seen on Raye’s facebook named *Stan. Once and awhile, Stan organized a “Newbie Night” to encourage pool hall attendees to introduce new foreigners to more foreigners. It was a window to a social life and free pizza and beer—something else that enticed people to come.

So I was very excited to attend. I had a feeling I was getting closer to throwing my previous plan of lonely nights watching documentaries on youtube out the window. Yet on the night of, I got a devastating text from Raye:

“Im sik! And so is Juliet. Wer both not goin.”

I responded with, “Aw, that sucks. Get better!” hoping that my text came off casual and didn’t reveal the huge sense of disappointment washing over me. I also felt a tinge of suspicion: both Raye AND Jude were sick? Mm-hmm…

“Well I can send directions if u still wanna go?”

Now there was an idea! I asked for them and she dutifully sent the requested directions, but I was a little uneasy. Was I really ready to walk into a new social situation completely by myself? Did I really want to put myself in a situation without an ally? I glanced at my computer which held a promise of a comfy, non-awkward night in of learning about ancient Egyptians (I like documentaries). But I wanted to try and see what I could do. I came to Korea to be independent and I was not about to back down.

So I finished getting ready and headed downtown not knowing what exactly would happen.

When I got there, I was annoyed to see I was really early. I know very few people who like being the first people to show up at events, I know none that would show up early and without any friends. So to kill time, I looked around downtown, shopping a bit. I ran into a foreigner trying on shoes at a store.

“Hey! I like those shoes!” I decided to make the first move towards friendship.

She glanced down at the black flats she was trying on. “Yeah, me too. It’s so hard to get shoes my size in this country, you know?”

“So, you goin’ to pool night?” I cut to the chase. The shoe shop we were in happened to be right under the pool hall where Newbie Night was happening.

She rolled her eyes—a reaction I was not expecting. “No… not my crowd. Plus,” she added, “I don’t really like making friends with foreigners.”

Awkward.

I took that as my cue to leave. When I glanced at the clock it was thankfully past the time the event was scheduled to start so I left the girl in her quest for bigger-sized shoes (not for foreigner friends), and made my way to the pool hall. As I climbed the stairs, I almost turned around and went home. Was I really doing this? I was.

When I stepped into the pool hall, I was shocked and a little embarrassed to see about 3 foreigners—all male. I recognized Stan right away so taking a deep breath, I march right up him and stuck out my hand.

“Hey, I’m Jerika!” I introduced myself. “I saw you on facebook,” I added lamely.

“Yeah, Juliet’s friend. I know you!” Stan’s 6 foot plus frame swung from one foot to another as he spoke, and his frank, friendly face was sparsely topped with dark hair. He, like Juliet, also worked at a university and had been in Korea some time.

“She’s not coming… neither is Raye.”

He shrugged his shoulders dismissively, “Well, glad you made it out!”

“Me too!”

“You what?” said a voice behind me. I turned to face another beautiful blonde with striking blue eyes and a friendly smile, unwrapping a scarf from around her neck.

“Glad I came!” I said.

Her smile grew wider. “Yeah, you must be new. I’m *Jennifer.”

I was delighted to find out she was from Canada. The first of four Canadians I was to meet that night. That was the night I was to meet my core group of friends that I would share countless memories with during the time I spent in Korea. I’d like to say that it was my charm that helped me make friends, but it was most definitely the act of going out and meeting them. Friends will not be made sequestered in your apartment watching youtube clips of Planet Earth. These are friends that I still speak with and see now that I’m home, and are friends that I value just as much as I do the friends I had waiting for me back in Canada.

So if you’re lonely, in Korea, and wanting some companionship, find out where all the foreigners are at. Go out by yourself. Many people are in the same position as you and will not snub your friendly advances. Who knows? You might even find yourself a boyfriend or a girlfriend—something that I also managed to do that night, which is definitely another story and another blog post.

*names have been changed.

I tend to lose things easily so a password lock was a nice change.

When my boss opened the door, I faced a 10 feet by 10 feet room with one door leading to a closet-sized bathroom and a sliding door leading to an equally tiny laundry room/kitchen. The room was also completely bare save a wall unit with some shelving and a nice tv that I never used the entire time I was in Korea.

It was small. Smaller than any bedroom I’d owned back in Canada. But I loved it immediately. It had everything I needed (or eventually, when the bed came later that day, and after I bought a toaster oven and a clothing rack to hang my increasingly expanding wardrobe). Being a tiny person myself, I found the cramped space comfortable and easy to live in.

The bathroom was very typical of a bathroom in Korea. The concept of an enclosed shower seems to be abandoned for the necessity of space. My shower consisted of a shower head that was connected to my sink and hung above it. I literally had to almost sit in my sink to take showers. The tiled floor had a slight incline that led to a drain so the water could go down it. My first couple of showers took some getting used to.

I also found that hot water doesn’t just come forth from the taps like they did back at home. Water is heated by gas that I had to turn on with a machine that looked like a thermostat. This machine also heated water contained underneath my floorboards, heating the room if I felt cold. I guess Koreans do this as a way of conserving energy as leaving the gas on leads to soaring utility bills (as I found out a few times early on in my stay).

The kitchen was cramped, but cosy. It lacked an oven (as most Korean apartments do) and a microwave (again, a luxury that you shouldn’t expect waiting for you in your apartment unless you’re lucky). I had an electric burner with a washing machine nestled underneath it—right where an oven should’ve been. Overhead hung my clothes dryer: a rack on which to hang-dry my clothes.

Although a tiny apartment is what you should expect upon coming to Korea, mine was on the smaller scale of what I’ve seen from youtube vids, blogs, and my friends’ apartments who also lived in Korea. But they don’t get much bigger. Overtime, I added stuff to it and made it an amazing comfortable retreat my boyfriend and I enjoyed many nights in.

So a quick recap of what to expect:

-a small living space/kitchen/bathroom.

-a Korean washing machine that you’ll spend some time trying to figure out.

-no keys.

-no oven or microwave.

-gas-heated floors.

-non-enclosed shower.

In spite of what my apartment lacked, I was able to make it a home that I couldn’t wait to return to after a long, hard day of teaching or a night of heavy drinking. If space is going to be an issue for you, then maybe spending some time as an English teacher in Korea may not be for you.

I was ultimately glad they were there. It took all four of them to lug my luggage around. They also brought little presents. Again, this was something I wasn’t expecting. They were all supportive and caring, making me realize that they really don’t hate me as I thought they did. I checked my luggage in without a problem and made my way to security to continue my journey.

The goodbyes with my family weren’t as awkward as I thought they’d be. They even took pictures. But as I turned to leave, I didn’t turn back and didn’t feel like it. My heart started to race as I realized that I was really going through with this. That this was real, and what I’ve been waiting for for the past two months was finally coming.

I passed through security without a problem either. There was a girl ahead of me with jewelry all over her body and kept setting off the metal detectors. She was eventually told to be seated and wait for more security to arrive. She caught my eye and I gave her a sympathetic look. But moving along, I didn’t give her much more thought as I made my way to my gate and joined two dozen or more of my fellow passengers—all Korean. I was hoping for a Western face in the crowd, someone I can unload all my excitement on and exchange contacts with. But the only other Western face was a tall, wiry, bespectacled fellow who leered creepily at me the entire 2 hour wait. I decided not to befriend him.

Resigned to my solidarity, I bought a bag of Smartfood and a bottle of Coke and munched the next 2 hours away. There was a hockey game on the television in one of the cafeterias. Canada versus some other country. I’m not too sure as I wasn’t really watching. I was mostly engrossed in my own thoughts while being wary of the tall creepy white guy.

While waiting, I also amused myself by staring at the various Koreans, already amused by their little nuances. I watched as Korean children chased each other around, running into other Koreans, not caring. A young lady with a pink trucker hat and a matching tracksuit cradled a handbag filled with an ugly, tiny dog in her arms, whispering who-knows-what every so often into its tiny ears. Korean businessmen flying solo all with haggard, stressed-out faces lounged on chairs, looking incredibly uncomfortable in their incredibly smart business suits. Young Korean women dressed in the latest designer wear, all with impossibly high heels and distractingly tight pants made me wonder if they knew the flight they were about to embark on was 13 hrs long.

When it was finally time to board the plane, I suddenly grew anxious. Not for the adventure that was about to begin, but in anticipation of the type of people I’d be flying with. Knowing my luck, I was expecting something along the lines of an obese man or a fidgety child. When I finally got to my seat, I was pleasantly surprised to see that I was going to be spending the next 13 hours with two petite, Asian, middle-aged women.

I was also pleasantly surprised to see that Korean Air provides their passengers with a comfortable blanket (that I considered stealing) and a bottle of water apparently from Korea’s Jeju Island. However, the best part of Korean Air was not the measures its flight crew went to make sure you were comfortable and never thirsty or hungry (they provided drinks and snacks round the hour). Korean Air’s entertainment system was what won my heart. Situated in front of every passenger was a small interactive screen where you were able to watch COUNTLESS Western or Korean movies, listen to various types of music, play video games, and track the progress of the flight.

You controlled everything with a tiny remote on your armrest. On the flight, I was able to watch bits of Moulin Rouge, Where the Wild Things are, Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, Forrest Gump, and Nine. I say bits of because I fast forwarded to my favourite parts, well aware of the fact that I had limited time on Korean Air. Other movies available were Grease, All About Steve, The Invention of Lying, and a crap-load of others. It was truly amazing. In fact, I felt sad I fell asleep on the flight, because I could have used that time to watch some more movies. Ahhh well…

The lady beside me opted to watch nothing during the whole flight, choosing instead to open her Macbook and type some sort of journal entry. I learned during the duration of the flight that her name was Jaqueline Kok (lol) and she was born in Malaysia. She currently lives in North York and is on the school board there. She was going to Korea to recruit students, or something like that and her English was excellent. I’m not sure what exactly she was writing on her laptop, but after a few glances, I know that she was recounting her flight experience, much like I’m doing now, and that it took her many pages to do so.

Now, I specifically asked for a window seat when I booked my ticket, which the travel agency very nicely provided. However, I soon realized that I might as well have asked for a seat next to a wall. The whole 13 hours, the plane flew in absolute darkness. I never once was able to see the sun set or rise above the clouds like when I flew to Cuba. It was sad, but I ultimately realized that my seat change allowed me to be seated with people who allowed me some great elbow room.
We were given two major meals on Korean Air—dinner and breakfast.

For dinner, you were given a Korean option, or an American option. I think both contained beef, so vegetarians were out of luck. Wanting to start my Korean experience, I chose the Korean option. It was a mélange of veggies, rice, beef, and egg in a bowl. This meal was called “bibimbap”, came with instructions on how to assemble everything for first-timers like me, and was pretty good. The meal also came with some sort of seaweed soup, spicy pickle slices, and a cube of chocolate cake. I liked this meal a lot.

Breakfast wasn’t as good. I chose the American breakfast of sausage and an omelet as opposed to the green tea porridge that was the Korean option. The egg tasted on par with IKEA’s dollar breakfast eggs and the sausages were uncomfortably crunchy. There was also some sort of tomato paste on the eggs, which was pretty gross. But one sunny spot on my tray were the four tater tots which I savoured. There was also yogurt which was berry flavoured and was thus too tart for my taste, and a cinnamon bun that was sadly squished as though some large person sat on it.

Because I was cornered in the window seat, I didn’t drink much. I wanted to use the bathroom as little as possible as me going meant disturbing the other ladies blocking my way. I ended up having to do so anyways at least once since neither lady seemed interested in using the bathroom after awhile and my discomfort became too much to bear. I was extremely comfortable otherwise on the flight. I think a good part of that has to do with the fact that I’m so petite and can fold and tuck my legs away if I so desired. I sat cross-legged a lot during the flight and fell asleep curled up like a cat every now and then. I could see how a normally-sized person may not be as comfortable. But hopefully the food and service make up for it.

When the lights of Incheon airport finally flashed in my window, a new wave of excitement swept through me. I was finally here!! Getting off the plane, I breezed through customs and picked up both pieces of luggage without a problem. Passing through a currency exchange booth, I immediately decided that I should carry some Korean money with me so I swapped 500 American dollars for about 600,000 Korean won. I felt pretty balling with all that cash, and also a little nervous. I hate carrying cash with me. I’m always expecting some burglar to snatch it away. But I’m slowly getting used to it.

Once I entered the pick-up area, I saw my name as it appears on my passport scrawled across a big piece of white paper. Waving it excitedly was an elderly Korean gentleman who I immediately assumed was my director. With a sigh of relief, I shook his hand only to realize his knowledge of English was EXTREMELY limited. He did manage to communicate to me that he was a taxi driver sent by the school to pick me up, not my school’s director. Understanding, I hopped into his taxi and we were off to Cheonan!

We were pulling away when that nagging feeling that I’d forgotten something important started to hit me. Automatically, I looked into my bag for my passport, only to realize it wasn’t there. It took a few more frantic searches before the truth dawned on me: I’d lost my passport. THE ONE PIECE OF DOCUMENTATION that I absolutely needed. In a panic, I managed to convey to the taxi driver that we had to go back as I had most likely forgotten my passport at the currency exchange, the last place I remember seeing it in my hand. He very kindly obliged and as soon as the taxi stopped, I jumped out and ran like an idiot back to the terminal where I breathlessly expressed to a stern-faced Korean airport guard that I left my passport at the currency exchange. He told me to stay put and he disappeared behind sliding doors to investigate my situation. When he emerged after a few tense seconds where I was kicking myself internally for being such a forgetful moron, he had my passport in his hand and an amused smirk on his face.

After getting it back, I turned to see my taxi driver plodding towards me, his anxious face suddenly turning to one of relief once he saw that I found my passport. “Phew!!” he expressed, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. Feeling like the king of the world, I hopped back into the cab and settled in for the drive. It was then that the feeling hit me again. What did I lose this time??? My next instinct was that I’d lost my camera, which I had pulled out just before realizing I’d lost my passport and had been carrying in my lap , ready to take pictures even though it was nighttime. I moved around the various things on my seat: my travelling satchel, my bigger bag, and a pillow. But alas, no camera. My astonishment instantly turned to feelings of suspicion as my eyes turned towards the taxi cab driver. Didn’t I leave the camera on the seat as I rushed madly back into the airport? Didn’t I leave him alone for a couple of minutes? And I did think it strange that he followed me into the terminal. Probably to give me the illusion of a caring man when really he was trying to cover up what he did!! For a good hour, I seethed, trying to figure out ways I can confront him, wondering how much cameras were in Korea, and again kicking myself for not putting my camera away in my panic. After that hour of despair, I looked into my satchel and saw a familiar sight: my goddamn camera. Wtf??!!

I instantly felt sorry for the murderous feelings of hate I was felt towards the kindly taxi driver, and was so relieved I didn’t mention anything. I also felt incredibly relieved I hadn’t lost my camera—an expensive toy I bought specifically for my trip.

The drive to Cheonan took another 2 hours. But the entire time, I sat upright and awake, fascinated by the cities we passed, all brightly lit with upbeat neon shades of pink, blue, and green. The highways, I remarked, also looked very much like the highways in Toronto. A lot of South Korea, I find, is like Canada… asides from all the signs being in Korean, and the Koreans’ love for bright colours.

When we finally got to the part of town I’d be living in, the taxi driver passed me off to my director and his wife who were immediately very kind and gracious. They brought me to my apartment building, which was newly built and contained modern appliances. The room was completely empty asides from the appliances, but I was assured that a bed was coming later that day, which it did. Further descriptions of my room will be told in another blog, but I’ll finish this up by saying my very first impressions of South Korea were hugely positive. I haven’t and have yet to experience anything negative concerning South Koreans’ treatment towards me. However, whether or not that’ll remain the same after I meet my students is another matter. I’ll keep you posted!

Beautiful. Just… beautiful.

On the first day (this was the first time my celebration of Valentine’s Day spanned two days), we decided to head over the Madison, an extremely popular bar situated at the heart of downtown Toronto. I brought my friend Daniela with me—a girl suffering from a huge case of void. You probably have a friend like her in your life to some extent. They’ve just left a long-term relationship with an overbearing boyfriend only to find they’ve alienated their friends and now have no one. After leaving that relationship, Daniela immediately jumped from one bad situation to another and is now quite hung up on a Latin douchebag. The void I spoke of is something she constantly tries to fill with hope for a future with said douchebag when she should really be filling it with finding out who the fuck she is. But I digress…
I was in a similar situation myself 3 years ago and am hoping to help her as my closest friend helped me: by introducing me to people and helping me realize that my self-worth isn’t measured by how much attention a guy gives me. So I thought bringing her to this event would not only expose her to more people, but also give her some experience in going to a rowdy downtown bar (she, at 23, had yet to experience such a thing).

When she met my other friends, she was surprisingly pleasant and calm. My hope sparked that she would actually have a great night. So we all piled into her Dodge Caravan (she volunteered to drive us) and made for Diana’s friend’s place to pick them up too.

One a side note, how awkward is it when you’re meeting new people and have already volunteered to drive only to be asked if you wouldn’t mind picking up a few other people you’ve never met? What can you say? No? Who wants to be that douchebag that says, “Um… it’s kind of out of my way. Can your friends just take a bus in negative 5 degree weather??” Nobody. I instantly felt bad for her. But she seemed to genuinely not mind.

So, we head to Jane and Sentinel to pick up Diana’s friend only to realize that Diana’s friend had two others with her. So not only did Daniela have to pick up these girls, but also have them sit illegally on the floor of her van. During this whole time, Diana and her friends had been clutching pop bottles filled with something a little bit more than pop and sipping from them heartily. Obnoxiously, the whole drive down to Downsview station was a never-ending chorus of drunken statements made at a louder-than-necessary volume.

When we finally got there, the girls we had so graciously picked up hopped out of the van and quickly stepped ahead and away from us. They walked a good 10-step distance away, making me feel worse for having Daniela drive us down there. However, the best part was when the kindly adult couple passed the girls who were ahead and offered a day pass to them. With a smile, one of the girls happily accepted without even offering it to Daniela for giving them a ride. She very sweetly shrugged it off, though.

Deciding that this night was the last night I would encounter these girls again, I too decide to shrug it off and we all made our way to the station where a train took us to Spadina and Bloor where the Madison was located not a long walk away.

When we finally got there, our journey was instantly halted by the presence of a large, imposing line that snaked outside of the gates of the Madison, which is actually an old Toronto home converted into a bar. There’s about three floors and many rooms located inside the Madison House, which adds definite charm. What does not add to the Madison House charm is the 10:1 ratio of guys to girls. The Madison House is a definite man’s bar filled with guys eager to smile at the few girls that are there and hoping to land a number or two.

I met up with Ryan, my ex-boyfriend, and felt a twinge of regret that I couldn’t reach over and breathe in the scent of him. This was a habit of mine while we were dating. He also happened to look great and adorable as usual, adding to my regret. What snuffed those feelings was Ryan himself, as he immediately launched into what Ryan does best: flirt with girls in front of me as soon as he arrived. I do miss the times we had, but I’m definitely relieved that I no longer have to worry about what Ryan is doing when he’s not around me.

The night at the Madison was amusing, but not as fun as I thought it would be. The next night, Valentine’s Day dinner at Diana’s was much more my style. We exchanged cheesy Valentine’s Day cards, played several rounds of What’s Yours Like?, Taboo, and Guitar Hero. We also decided to be quite glutinous and gorged on cheese, chocolate-covered strawberries, pink champagne, and a variety of pastries.

Valentine’s Day single-style was indeed a hit and never did I spend a wistful moment wishing I was spending it with some dude.