Reasons to Flee PoF

One week <-- Enough time to make me think, "Why, Moffatt? Why are you PoF'ing again? You wrote about the Major Archetypes and Minor Archetypes of online dating. Remember? Maybe you need a refresher. Seriously, why are you doing this to yourself."

I wanted to give it another shot. I figured, you know, I tend to abandon ship after a couple of weeks on the site -- why not give it more time? Perhaps I've been too hasty in dismissing the advances of other online gay gals. Maybe I just need to give it some settling time, and I'll find someone spectacular.

Case and point: Please, bask in the horrid glory of a real message I received this morning:

"we have so many similarities! (i really need to change my profile soon and actually write something in it). until then i'll just deal with being the convo starter. oh but oops you live in [GTA suburb]! lame"

Initiate head explosion in 3.... 2...... 1....

..... Could someone please point out where the "convo starter" is in this e-mail? I know I can be a stickler for etiquette, and I know it's been a while since I've been out on a date, but, in previous experience, insulting a person based on their current headquarters does not constitute a suitable ice-breaker.

No.

And thus, I will be single for life.

And the Gossip Grows...

I can feel it, readers -- the slow shift started with an awkward conversation pertaining to The Oscars and it continues to clot the halls at the office...

The sudden interest around this blogette's love life is approaching alarming levels on the work front. And, might I add, none of this was proffered by me.

I assume it has a great deal to do with my age. I turn 24 next month and I am still single. In most cases, outsiders tend to start questioning the single gals once the mid-20s roll around, you know, since we're all supposed to be desperate to marry and have babies and whatnot.

I never discuss crushes or infatuations in the office, mostly because I find it unprofessional to do so (whether queer or straight, I often find the personal life is best kept in the private realm).

And the woman instigating this investigation is now in her 60s.

This week, we've had some gents in the office delivering office furniture, rearranging cubicles, and wrestling with the beast that is the air conditioning system. All I did was wander into her office to ask about payment procedures and I was met with:

"Oh, did you get a good look at the guy fixin' the air conditioning?? Oh, he is something. I mean, I know I'm married 'n' all, but I can still look, can't I?! A HA HA HA! How 'bout you. You get a good look, too? Hmm??"

I mumbled something about spreadsheets and rebates and then returned to the question at hand.

Ah, deflection -- it takes a talent to change the subject with a smooth hand.

Did I mention this afternoon marked the eighth day back in the office?

Hmm.

Awkward Office Moments RETURN!

So it begins -- awkward office moments RETURN. For new readers or Internet wanderers, feel free to check out previous posts on this subject. I dealt with awkward "girl talk" moments in front of my mother and suffered through two moments with the Office Matchmaker (including insinuations over my "desperation" for a man and her offensive monologue about butch women and their style) in 2009 alone.

Sure, there was a four-month gap between contracts at this same office, but the gossip continues even in those absences.

Shall we take a gander at the first week back?

***

Awkward Moment One: Lunchroom Lowdown.

It all starts with a harmless question: "So, did you watch The Oscars this year?" I nod. "Yeah, or... well, I watched the first half without sound. I was talking to a friend of mine through the first half. He tends to call on Sundays and it just happened to be around the time The Oscars was on so I was giving the play-by-play for the first part. I watched the second half with sound, though." The topic turns to films for a moment with a basic rundown of which Best Picture movies we'd actually seen. A lull emerges. And then, the pause is filled with: "Just jumping back in the conversation for a minute -- WHO'STHISGUYYOUWERETALKIN'ABOUT?AREYOUTWODATING?AREYOUINTERESTEDINHIM?WHATABOUTYOURLOVELIFEINGENERAL?!

Whoa. Whoa, now. I explain: "Oh, no, he's one of my best friends. He was one of the guys I lived with while I was at school. He's like a brother to me, you know?" A knowing glance from the gossiper. "Mmm hmm. So, there's no one in your life, then? Romantically?"

No. And, even if I was straight, I would not talk to you about it.

For interested readers, this is the same woman who was not aware that NEW theatre is created even in 2010.

*Sigh*

***

Awkward Moment Two: Lesbians Comin' Out the Woodworks.

I found out via the technical person I work with that one of our service professionals went through a rather difficult divorce last summer. We are attempting to reconcile his account with us, but it was his wife who controlled the books -- since she left in the middle of the pool season, he had no one to cover the books but himself.

The plot thickens.

"Yeah, poor guy. He had everything hit him at once. Turns out his wife is a lesbian and she left him for her partner. That's got hurt. I mean, it must cut a guy at the ego when his wife leaves for someone else, let alone for a woman. There was more than one phone call with him that ended in him crying and confiding to me about it. Yeesh."

Which was all then followed by: "Oh, hey, here's a joke for you: What do you call two lesbians in a closet? ..... A 'lick-er' cabinet. Get it? Instead of, like, liquor you drink? Huh?"

I laughed considering these two stories were told in one breath. Oh, goodness.

***

So, quite a fruitful first week for awkward office moments. I tend to attract these types of oddities. I think it ties in with the general air of approachability I exude. People feel comfortable confiding in me, for better or for worse.

The writer in me appreciates all the strange conversations, especially of the queer-themed variety.

***

Conversely, I can think of one non-awkward, thrilling thing you could do to kick off your weekend. Why not head over to The Best Travel Job Ever and vote for The Advocate? She's moving up the charts at a right good pace now but she needs every last vote to put her on that plane.

Look at her, so chipper and wanderlusting. Send that lady packin', I say!

Housewarming with an Accent of Drama

Remember a few months ago how I had that awkward Facebook run-in with a friend of a friend? Where she thought I was hitting on her when I was just looking to meet other ladies to hit the lady-lovin' scene with? Remember how I learned clarification = being an adult?

Well. Said friend had a housewarming get-together last night.

I met this girl.

... And the awkwardness of the moment was so stunning it almost circled back to being refreshing.

But the kicker? ...... I was the non-awkward one. Yeah. Despite her initial misinterpretation of me and my intentions, I was calm. I mean, I didn't waltz up to her and introduce myself -- Kyle C. was clever and lured her into the kitchen with the promise of a fresh drink while Ship Sharp and I happened to be chatting there. When I shook hands with her, I was almost tempted to say I was "that creeper from Facebook," but the look pulsing in her eyes let me know she knew exactly who I was.

It's unfortunate to see a potential friendship fizzle out before it even has the chance to grow, though. Under different circumstances, I bet we would have hit it off and impressed quite a few foxy femmes across Toronto's queer scene. Alas, such is the fickleness of online introductions.

And Ship Sharp can vouch for me that I handled the situation in a cool, adult sort of way. A+, Moffatt girl.

As for the housewarming, it was delightful. The Kyles have a gorgeous new condo just on the fringes of the downtown core. Pure posh, those lads are. The gents were flooded with a whole new wine collection from their guests, Ship Sharp and I included. I have to note: it's such a welcome change to talk queer with Kyle S. We went to high school together and he was one of the first people I hung out with in grade nine. We were both so heavily closeted as young'uns, though he came out years before I did. But yeah, just getting the chance to make the jokes about our younger selves and to understand where each other is now coming from is a great place to be with someone.

Ship Sharp and I left at around 10 PM and carried on our own after-party chez Ship (RE: Tea-infused discussions about writing/writers we admire, books-to-film, and other intellectual endeavors). I realized this morning how much I miss talking shop like that. I mean, I know I'm a member of Ladies in Writing, but we don't discuss professional writers with the kind of detail Ship Sharp and I did last night. I tell you, tea brings out the absolute best in people and inspires the greatest conversation. I would argue it's a better social lubricant than alcohol, even. Yes, you just read that. And yes, I am a nerd.

On that note, I'm off for another evening with Ship Sharp and The Advocate before a work-intensive week starts anew.

Facebook Fiasco

I appear to be challenged when it comes to first impressions. Or, rather, I am challenged when it comes to impressions made via the Internet.

Case and point: Readers will note that back on Jan. 16/2010, the Kyles recommended I send out a note to one of their friends over Facebook. Kyle C. knows me as "one of the nice lesbians" and he wanted to make sure that his best gal pal was treated well as she started her fabulous journey out the closet.

Now, I am also quite new to the queer scene in Toronto. I am fortunate enough to know an amazing, stunning, and drop-dead gorgeous group of gay men and straight allies who are more than willing to help a gay gal out. However, I'm not actually close friends with ANY queer women.

I know. Weird, eh? I seemed to miss out on that experience in those vital undergrad years and it's proving difficult to find a collective of open, kind, and relaxed gay gals in these parts.

So, I think the Kyles were of a sound mind when they suggested I introduce myself to another queer gal who is currently in the same position as me.

Alas, I've stumbled across another awkward situation it would appear.

The introduction was mistaken as a pass. I became a creeper without intending to.

I ignored the initial urge to write back and clarify my position. However, after discussing said issue with The Advocate and Ship Sharp this evening, it was agreed that perhaps another message was required. And send it, I DID.

Ah, first impressions in written form are such fickle things. I have the sinking suspicion I've blown the chance at a friendship with this particular girl. I know I shouldn't take it personally -- I mean, this WAS a Facebook message here. The forum is notorious for breeding creepers and I would have carried out the same screening process if I were in her position. Still, I hope that I haven't soured a future, in-person introduction. I mean, we're friends with the same folks -- I'm more than certain we'll meet at this year's Pride parade whether it's planned or not.

Weird -- if Facebook's meant to connect people, why is it helping to disconnect me further?

Awkward Office Moments: Round Two

Perhaps I'm anticipating Monday morning -- with the news of my sister's engagement poised to spread throughout our office, I am certain that the Awkward Office Moments will explode in ways I cannot even anticipate.

Yet.

As it stands, I ran into two rather awkward moments with, you guessed it -- the Office Matchmaker herself. I was lulled into a false sense of security over the past month. I thought maybe she'd turned her efforts elsewhere.

Alas. No one shall be spared. Or, rather, I shall not be spared until my contract is wrapped and tied with a big, shiny ribbon.

Scene One: Wednesday, August 19, 2009. Mid-morning. Miz Moffatt flips through another stack of mail, searching for the rebate stragglers. The OM stares and date-stamps invoices. Enter Finky, the office jokester and all-around cool guy. He spots the stack of mail and stops to chat.

Finky: HEY! It's MAAAAIL TIIIIIIIIIME! THE MAIL'S HERE!

Miz Moffatt: YEAH! You better believe it's mail time.

Finky: Aren't you gonna sing the song?

Miz Moffatt: ...The mail song?

Finky: Yeah, if it's mail time, you've got to sing the Mail Song. Geeze, [Miz Moffatt], it's company policy. Haven't you ever seen-

The OM: MALE song?? Oh come on, now, [Finky] -- is this some kind of song to help [Miz Moffatt] with the guys? Like a Siren's song or something?

Finky: *Confused/weirded out*.... What? What are you talking about?

The OM: Well you said "male time," and I thought you meant it was some kind of song to grab the attention of some cute guys. *Looks over to Miz Moffatt, trying to wink -- Miz Moffatt keeps her head down, an inborn defense against matchmakers everywhere*

Finky: *Laughing* No, it's the Mail Song. *Points at the mail in Miz Moffatt's hands* My sons are big on Blue's Clues right now and they've got this mail song they're always singing. I was making a reference to THAT. Why would I be telling her to sing a song for MALES?

The OM: Oh, HAHA! Look at me, my mind is just too creative -- mistaking "mail" for "male." I thought I was going to have to call HR on you, [Finky]. I thought you were being inappropriate, a ha ha!

Finky: *Motioning to me, trying to make light of the awkwardness* Yeah, well -- you shoulda heard what we were talkin' about yesterday!

Miz Moffatt: *Nods and insinuates she's on the inside of confidential, if somewhat racy, office conversation*

... Yeah, I would say The OM was certainly being "creative".... if by "creative" you mean "out of her mind" or "particularly challenged by the English language."

Scene Two: Friday, August 21, 2009. Early afternoon.

This next episode was a long one. I don't think I could do it justice in a script format. I got trapped at The OM's desk for about fifteen minutes while she told me about this "amazing show" she dedicates hours to on the weekend. It's this lame, Canadian-made show called Style By Jury. It's another one of your formulaic makeover series where they take unsuspecting, 'unattractive' specimens and transform them with traditional concepts of feminine/masculine accessories and 'life coaching.' Except, with this series, the style-challenged individual is subjected to the judgments of her peers, or the 'jury' in this case. The first round is always brutal, but the jury changes their minds after the makeover.

I've seen it. And I'm not particularly impressed with it.

Anyway -- The OM has now made it her mission to get me 'hooked' on the show by reciting previous episodes to me while I'm trying to print off cheque batches. She talked about one she'd seen last weekend where this brilliant, though socially-inept, scholar was scrubbed, polished, and remolded into some sort of fashionista. Why do I bother to point this out?

.... Oh, perhaps it had something to do with The OM's blunt and embarrassing assessment of butch women.

This scholar was 'butch,' according to The OM. She also referenced two previous episodes where 'butch' women were featured as the fashion abominations. 

But it was the language she used to describe them. 

The OM kept focusing on the fact that these women were just "SO unattractive, I mean, really butch" and how "they had closets with no skirts and no dresses and not even a pair of cute shoes or anything." 

I think what caught me the most off-guard was the idea that The OM felt this show was, and I quote, "giving these women a chance to express who they really are" -- she tried to argue that these women "were just so masculine and butch because they'd never really been given the chance to be feminine."

.... WHAT DA DONK?!  In retrospect, I think this is less of an awkward moment and more of a fumin' mad, irritated with traditional concepts of gender and the attempt to include me within heteronormative assessments of others, kind of moment. It was just the ease that The OM had with the idea that feminine woman = normal, butch woman = abnormal, must change to make acceptable. 

I'm struggling to find the words to explain my internal reaction to this. It was just another one of those moments when you realise how powerful the status quo IS and how rarely people within that space question such assumptions. It was eerie at best, I tell you.

Should be interesting to see what Monday brings.....

Awkward Office Moments: Round One

Here it is -- the first installment of Awkward Office Moments starring Miz Moffatt.

As a more than half 'in' lesbian, navigating the public realm and the working world can be a daunting one. I've been outside the protective university bubble for just over a year now and it still amazes me how subtle yet pervasive traditional ideas can be.

A bit of background: in the last year, I've been laid off twice. My Mom managed to get me a summer contract position at her office and I am currently the Rebate Queen at a major pool manufacturing office. Essentially, I screen all the rebate claims pouring in to our office and decide if the customer meets all of our requirements or not. Yes = MONEY! No = Rejection letter and the potential hassle of an irritated customer.

My Mom and I get along well -- she's an accountant and we share similar work ethics/approaches to projects (which makes sense considering she instilled many of my anal retentive habits when it comes to filing). Anyhow, it's a tricky environment to navigate -- I'm the daughter of a full-timer. Right away, co-workers deal with me as an adult would a child despite the fact that I'm 23. As a result, I often find myself up against some rather invasive questions into my personal life, namely my love life. Granted, I assume most women would enter into these discussions in any office. It's one of those topics to debate, mull over, and all that jazz. In my case, since I am also thoroughly single, I tend to become the target of The Office Matchmaker rather quickly.

Lo, that is where I found myself this morning.

Mom was showing me a cover story from The Globe and Mail -- I can't quite remember the title, but it was some clever pun on a single farmer and how difficult it was to find a wife. Something about 'heartbroken in the heartland'....? Was it that blatant? Hmm, can't quite recall. Anyhow, Mom was pointing it out for the sake of making the "I dislike your sister's current boyfriend and think she should marry a good, hard-working man who will treat her well" argument. And hey, what better guy than a Quebecois farmer, right?

As Mom was showing me this article, I could feel The Office Matchmaker (hereby known as "The OM") tugging at my arm. I ignored her and kept sorting through the mail. The OM continued -- "Ooooh, a single guy who works the land? What a catch he would be, hmmmmm?" I respond with an awkward chuckle, averted eyes, and more mail shuffling.

She continues: "Oh, look at her, she's trying to ignore me, now. She doesn't want to admit in front of her Mom that she would be all over a guy like that if he walked into the room. And he's French, too. He speaks the language of ~love~ right there." I start sorting through the mail faster in an attempt to escape.

I see two epic issues with this office moment:

1. The OM kept on pushing, regardless of the fact that I would not take the bait.
2. The OM tried to get me to evaluate/check out a man WHILE MY MOM WAS THERE.

I mean, she doesn't know I'm gay, so I can excuse the whole "it's WRONG for a girl your age to be without a man!" mentality -- but, really? In front of my Mom? Like.... what?? Seriously? Seriously. 

I wanted so badly to just respond with the whole, "Yeah, see, I'm not attracted to men, so you can take a break and not worry about setting me up with anyone" but the thought of coming out to my Mom like THAT is horrifying at best. Slightly amusing if I put a sitcom spin to it, but I know Reality would make it.... riDONKulous. In the negative sense.

I guess it made me realize how much I want to be out. I know I would come across new issues as an out woman at work, but I'm at the point where I'd rather try dealing with those than resigning myself to the whole tedious idea of hetero-normative behaviour.

Blargh. Mondays are silly things.