Ick and the City

I decided to indulge myself yesterday. After an afternoon of walking in the rain, then running errands which included getting new eyewear ( 700 dollars later with 2 new pairs of fabulous glasses and a six months supply of top notch contacts, I decided I really need to stop this binge shopping!), I made myself a nice steak and salad, poured myself a glass of red wine, and proceeded to plunge into the second season of Sex in the City. This is in preparation for the movie's debut on May 30th. (I have planned an outing with a group of amazing women to see the movie and have cocktails and aps on that night.)

Of course this has lead me to the inevitable comparison.

Like Carrie, I have curly hair, I live alone, I'm a writer, I have fabulous friends, and I have a penchant to spend indiscriminately.

Unlike Carrie, I have a cat whom I adore, I pay my own mortgage, I have another job to support my bills, my friends are almost all in relationships and I do not have a string of sexual experiences with deeply fascinating but screwed up men.

Needless to say, there is no Mr. Big. I have dated a few Mr. "Bogs", but nothing worth writing about.

My single friends fall into two categories. The ones in their 20's to early 30's who are living the lifestyle of the series, and the ones in their late 30's to early 40's who have given up. I love them all, but I feel out of place with the former and cannot convince the latter to leave their homes at night.

Unlike Carrie, I don't seem to have an endless supply of couture outfits, accessories and shoes. I also am nowhere near the "In" crowd. My friends, like me, are normal working girls. We don't have hairstylists waiting in the wings, and we wear our outfits more than once. We don't go to gallery or club openings and we are not on the A list anywhere. We, also, don't live in the mythical New York, the urban Nirvana, the 21st Century Mecca, that we all hope to attain but is not within everyone's reach.

I am Canadian after all.

I live in Toronto.

Some call it Hollywood North. Others call it the Canadian New York. I call foul! This city almost always sleeps. It does have cultural, music and other events. There is North by North West, The Jazz Festival, The Harbour Front Series, The Film Festival. There is plenty to do, and I do a lot of it alone. I have no problem with that. I like my own company, but people don't talk to strangers here; if you smile at someone they think you're a freak; and men do not appear out of the woodwork.

Oh yes, the 10% live the mythical life, but the rest look on from a desert of complacent suburbia filled with designer strollers and PVR's. Starbucks everywhere do not a city make.

It's hard to explain the difference, but everything here is so politically correct, so indecently sanitized, so conservative, it has strangled the sparkle out of the city. I think there is even a law against flirting or talking to strangers in elevators.

And here I am, a single woman with a lot going for her, lost in the ick. I will survive, but it certainly isn't the stuff of sitcoms and feature movies. In the meantime, I have some fabulous eyewear and a plan that will pay for most of the costs.