Trigger Warning for discussions of sexual assault/abuse, bullying and Rethaeh Parson’s suicide. Please skip this post if you need to.

Today is meant to be the question of the week. I’m sorry but I can’t. Like many of you, I’ve been reading about Rehtaeh Parsons, a young girl who died at only 17 years old. I’m sure a lot of you have read the statement her father posted yeseterday. It’s beautiful and devastating. I know I’m not the only who read it, cried and wondered why this happened.

I’m looking for answers. I’m hearing stories, reading articles that point the finger squarely at bullying. Rehtaeh was harassed at school and her classmates called her a slut. Someone took a picture of the assault and students posted it all over Facebook. There are some really cruel kids out there today and easy access to social media and technology makes them ruthless. Rethaeh took her own life because she was mocked and humiliated. Bullying caused this.

Or so the story goes. And I’m seriously disturbed by the glaring omission in that story. Rehtaeh Parsons wasn’t just bullied by her peers. She was sexually assaulted by her peers. When she sought the support from community, she was essentially told “Sorry. Nothing we can do.” The bullying was undoubtedly rough salt being rubbed in, but that’s not what caused the wound. We’re telling the story wrong. And in doing so, I feel like Rehtaeh Parsons’ experiences are being dismissed all over again.

(Aside: I’m going to use the words “we” and “us” lot in this post. I mean it in the general “we as a society” sense and not the “you and I as specific individuals” way).

When we turn this into a story about a girl who committed suicide because she was bullied, we’re spinning a convenient truth that absolves us – the adults who are largely in charge of things around here – of our responsibility. We agree that Rehteah Parsons’ death is tragic. We offer her pothumus sympathy. We empathize with her loved ones. And we tell ourselves that we didn’t do anything. It’s the kids who were wrong. They bullied her. We reassert our determination to vanquish the scourge of bullies from our school and restrict online access (because the Internet is kind of wrong too).

Yes bullying is a thing. It’s a real problem that can absolutely break people’s spirits and drive them to desperate acts like suicide.  It’s not okay that people harassed this girl or called her names. And finding ways to end bullying is important, necessary work. But the taunts and social media slander are only symptoms of what for me is a much bigger problem. Retheah Parsons was raped and we – the adults who are largely in charge around here – don’t take sexual violence seriously enough.

We don’t like people who are raped. And we really, really don’t like people who are raped and then tell us they were raped. If we know about it, we’re supposed to do something about it. We have to think about it and that’s really unpleasant. I’m not certain of the reasons for our reticence. I do have some theories but I’ll leave for those for another post.

When people like Rethaeh Parsons tell us – the adults who are largely in charge around here – that they’ve been sexually assaulted, what do we do? We turn them into defendants. We ask them why they got raped? Haven’t we told you over and over again not to let yourself get raped? We concede that sexual violence is terrible, we’re not saying that anyone deserves it. We just want to know, what did you think would happen when you put on that oufit, went to that place, drank all of those drinks?

Yet we don’t understand why Rathaeh Parsons classmates called her a slut.

When people like Rethaeh Parsons tell us that they’ve been raped, we don’t want them to be “victims”. We don’t want to know how deeply sexual violence can hurt or see the raw, messy parts of their pain. We like people who endure rape and sexual abuse in a quiet, dignified way We’re supportive of counselling, therapy and other coping methods that involve going away and dealing with it discreetly. We just can’t get too involved – not the school, not the police. Adults in positions of power and authority but we can’t help.

Yet we wonder why Rethaeh Parsons peers didn’t say anything?

We talk about people who have been raped as though they aren’t human. After Stubenville, CNN lamented the fate of two young men by describing, their scholastic acheivements, their extra curricular activities and their histories. They were portrayed as people. People who’s futures had been tragically thwarted when some girl thoughtlessly left herself vulnerable to raping. In Rethaeh Parsons’ case her father, a man gutted by grief, who tells us that she was a person. She was a living, breathing, thinking, feeling, valuable person with a past and future that was tragically altered into something she couldn’t live through. His letter was stands in heartbreaking contrast to our habit of describing people as dehumanized cautionary tales.

We ask ourselves- how students could circulate a picture of a peer being raped?

Prime Minister Harper has said we need to “call out bullying”. As usual, he’s missed the point. Yes, Rethaeh Parsons was bullied. And that is absolutely not okay. But it’s not fair for us – the adults who are largely in charge around here – to say “Hey, kids, what you did was wrong,” when we created the environment that supports this type of bullying.  This story we’re telling – the one where Rethaeh Parsons died because of bullying – obscures the issue of sexual violence. That act of pushing it into the background is what promotes the type of bullying we say we need to stop.

The youth who slut-shamed and dehumanized Rethaeh Parsons need to understand that what they did was wrong. It was destructive and almost certainly caused harm to someone who couldn’t endure more pain. But bullying isn’t just cruel actions disconnected from thoughts or emotions. The belief that Rethaeh Parsons deserved to be treated so poorly came from somewhere.

I’m pretty sure, it’s coming from us.

Aaaand…we’re back!

As I mentioned earlier, The MoMs, The Green Bean and I took a quick trip down to San Francisco.  Spending time in the Bay Area is always a pleasure, but we also had much business to take care of, namely scoping out neighbourhoods, looking at homes and meeting the locals.

By now, many of you know (and the rest of you have probably guessed) that come June, the family and I will be leaving Ottawa and moving to San Francisco!

Actually, it looks like we’ll be moving to Berkeley, where a slightly less expensive rental market will afford us an extra bedroom for guests. It’s a pretty happening city in its own right and a short BART ride away from its sister across the Bay. We spent the bulk of our time Berkeley this week and the friendly people, bountiful markets and vibrant night life were seductive indeed.

Why the move?

I decided several months ago that I wanted to continue my career as a sexuality educator. To do so, I knew I’d have to further my education. After a lot of research, discussion with colleagues, discussion with mentors and discussion with my family, I decided to I would apply to begin graduate studies in Human Sexuality this fall. The program that best suited my needs was the The Insititute for the Advanced Study of Human Sexuality, located smack dab in the middle of San Francisco.

The family I and briefly considered the distance option, which would have meant travelling from Ottawa to San Francisco for two to three weeks at a time, every four months. It was doable, but the more The MoMs and I thought about it, the more we realized that that much time apart was going to heap a ton of extra stress and work onto both of our shoulders – something that neither of us wanted.

What we wanted was to spend more time with each other and with The Bean. We wanted a break from some of the obligations that have us both a bit bogged down. The MoMs’ brother and his family recently made a big move to Australia. It was a risk leaving their very established life behind, but the fresh start has done them a world of good. The MoMs and I began to wonder if a new beginning might do us good too. Both of us love San Francisco. Nice weather and the opportunity to be outside in sunshine year-round would undoubtedly be good for the Bean. The MoMs could work there. I’d have access to some of the best sexuality resources and experts in the world. The more we thought about it, the more we realized heading out to California was a no-brainer. So we’re going.

The plan as it stands now is to go for a least a year. I have very strong attachments to Ottawa – especially the family of friends I’ve made in the almost fifteen years I’ve lived here. I also see that there’s a real need for sex positive resources in our city. Eventually I’d love to come back and continue working as a sexuality educator here in the capital. We’ll see what life has in store.

So that’s the jam. There’s a triple-long list of to-dos to get done before we pull up stakes. While part of me is champing at the bit to start this new adventure, I know the next few months are going to race by and I know I’m going to miss the shit out of Ottawa once we go. So I will enjoy the time I have left here, while I look forward to a new set of experiences and the chance to cross item number 8 of my 40 Before 40 off the list!

Trigger Warning: This post contains some discussion of sexual harassment and assault. Please exercise self-care and skip this post if you need to.

The other night, The Man of Mans were walking downtown after a fun night out with friends. The January deep freeze was on in full force and from the moment I felt the arctic air on my face, I had only one goal – getting to the nearby parking garage and our car as fast as possible. I was quick-stepping along the sidewalk urging The MoMs to keep pace. We were a few blocks away from the parking garage, when I spotted a man and woman who seemed to be engaged in some major public display of affection.

As we got closer, the majority of my brain was still occupied with matters of Warmth. Car. Now! But as glanced at the couple out of the corner of my eye, I became concerned. I don’t want to go into too much detail about another person’s experience – that part of the story isn’t mine to reveal. But as we passed the couple I heard and saw something that made me question whether she wanted what was happening.

Maybe I should stop,’ I thought. Then, almost instantly I began doubting myself, ‘What if you’re wrong? What if you make a scene? What if she doesn’t want you butting your nose into her affairs? She didn’t ask for your help. She’s not screaming or anything. The MoMs hasn’t said anything – he clearly doesn’t think it’s weird. No one else on the street is doing anything. It’s really, really cold and maybe this is nothing. Maybe it’s just your imagination.’

I glanced back one more time. Then, I kept walking.

I second later, another pedestrian who was clearly even more susceptible to cold than I am,  scurried past us. He was moving quickly with determination but he did pause for a moment to talk to us. Gesturing towards the other couple he said  ”So, um…something pretty weird’s happening back there, ” and took off.

“Yeah,” The MoMs whispered to me,  ”I was thinking the same thing.”

They had seen it too! This wasn’t my imagination.  I made my way back to the couple. “Excuse me,” I said, addressing the woman, “Are you okay?” Again, I’ll spare the details but as it turned out things were not entirely okay. After a brief exchange, the woman assured us she would be fine, thanked us and hurried away.

The man stared at The MoMs and I momentarily. “Oh wow,” he said ruefully, “I guess that was really bad.” He trotted away. The MoMs offered me his hand and we quietly finished our cold nighttime walk and climbed into welcoming warmth of our car.

I wish this were a different story. I wish I’d thought to ask that woman if she wanted company when she turned to walk away. I wish I’d acted immediately when my gut first told me something was off.  But the truth is while I eventually did something, it was that other guy, the one who told us that “something weird” was happening back there, who deserves some major props.

Cliff of the Pervocracy once wrote this awesome blog post about how, when you spot weirdness, telling someone in the vicinity can be a great strategy. To quote Cliff:

Next time you see something that seems wrong, but “oh my gosh maybe not really maybe I shouldn’t say anything I don’t know,” you don’t have to go right to the cops or the boss or run into the situation with your fists up.  What you do have to do–this is a goddamn order–is tell someone about it.  Someone as confused and powerless as you are.  Just check in.  ”This seemed off to me, does it seem off to you?”

Sometimes it isn’t even about how the other person reacts.  Sometimes it’s just about putting it into words.  You hear yourself describe the situation and you realize what you’re describing.

Sometimes it’s just about taking a step, even if it isn’t the perfectly right step, that makes you realize you are allowed to act on this; now that you’ve done something you can do more.

And sometimes they look back at you and say “yeah, that was fucked up. I was thinking the same thing but didn’t want to say anything.  You think we should go tell someone about it?”

And that, two people realizing they’re not the only one in the universe who has a problem with what’s happening, much more often than any spectacular act of lone-hero courage, is how evil gets dragged into the light.

I saw someone I thought might have been in trouble. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I failed to follow Cliff’s order. Fortunately, that fast-walkin’ dude was on the ball. Props to him because if I hadn’t said anything, I probably wouldn’t have stopped. It was only once I knew that someone else had what I had seen, that I was compelled to take action.

As for the man we interrupted? I was only once he saw his behaviour through the eyes of random strangers that he stopped to  reconsider his actions. Will our 90 second encounter influence what he does from now on? Who know?  It will definitely influence me.

Sometimes it’s easy to rationalize harassment or assault. If the act isn’t overtly violent, if there’s a pre-existing relationship, if everyone around you starts rationalizing it too. But it’s a lot harder to rationalize these things when someone calls it out. Someone spoke and I could no longer justify walking away. I spoke up and – at least in that moment – that dude could not justify his behaviour. The next time I see something and the red flags go up, I won’t search for an excuse to ignore my instincts. I will say something to someone and hope that it triggers a chain of change.

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve found my way onto the talk show circuit. One show…that counts as a circuit, right?

Jesse Reynolds is a performer, local media personality and connoisseur of all things fabulous. We met years ago as fellow actors and formed an instant friendship. Sharing the stage with Jesse was such a blast! When he invited me to be a guest on his new show From Zero to Jesse, I couldn’t say yes fast enough.

Check out the episode below! Jesse and I chat about embarrassing sex stories, a real life fruit ninja and a few fun toys. We also put musical guest/best dressed man I’ve ever met, Danniel Oickle to the test in The Gay Electric Chair.

 

I was meandering ’round the Twitterverse the other day and saw a friend had linked to Chloe Curran’s recent article: Get Out Of My Gay Bar Straight Girl!

Uh-oh. Straight Girl. Two words definitely apply to a certain adorkable someone.

It’s a strongly worded title and the ensuing rant pulls no punches. No, Curran’s not a straight-hater. She explains that:

I get it: Straight people don’t come to gay bars because they want to hate on gay people. They come because as the empowered majority, they feel entitled to access every space in the world.

I’m not here to argue for a ban on straight people in gay clubs; that’s discrimination, and clearly wrong. However I will ask you to a) rethink the entitlement you feel to occupy every space and b) respect that no matter how much you “love the gays,” sometimes gay people need to be amongst their peers and therefore apart from you. 

Um…yeah. I can’t speak to any other gay-club-going-straight-person’s motives but I’ve enjoyed getting my dance on in queer spaces for years. Until I read this article, it never occurred to me that my presence might feel intrusive and/or disrespectful regardless of how awesomely accepting I think I am in my own head. Looks like the entitlement thing applies to me as well.

Also? This:

“My girls and I just want to dance without being bothered by lame guys dancing up on us,” you’ll cry incredulously, eyes a’ flashin’ and gum a’ snappin’ with (what you think to be) righteous indignation, “Why is that so wrong?”

I admit, I’ve totally been that gal. I’ve sought refuge in the gay club, using them dance-sanctuaries when I wanted to flee from dudes who thought crotch grinding was an appropriate introduction.

(I would never snap my gum. The odds that I’d swallow it and choke are too high.)

Now I’m thinking about it and yeah…that shit ain’t on. I would never go into a synagogue and be all “Hi, folks! I’ve got some sick cantor music on my iPod but it’s just not the same as live davening. I’m just gonna chill here with y’all because even though I’m not of your faith, it’s cool because I am TOTALLY DOWN with jews.”

I’m not beating myself up or saying I’m a horrible person. This is just a situation where I wasn’t aware. Now that I am, I’ll try to be more respectful of people’s need to have a little time and space away from the dominant culture. That doesn’t mean I’ll never set foot in a gay bar again, but I’ll probably wait for an invitation before I boogie on in.

If you have a moment, I encourage you to read the entire article. Then come back here and tell me what you think. I’d love to hear other opinions on this, particularly from my queer readers. How do you feel about straight people hanging out in gay bars and other queer spaces?

In the meantime, I’m thinking I should open a club specifically for dance-lovin’ ladies, where come-ons are strictly forbotteen, because there’s clearly a market for it.  I can call it “No Hitters”. Huh? HUH? Who’s with me?

So…big news!

Long-time readers no doubt know that I’m a huge fan of style writer Sally McGraw and her blog Already Pretty. Sally is one of my favourite people on the Internet. So imagine my glee when I was invited write for Already Pretty as part of a crack team of contributing bloggers!

People, the squeeing? Was deafening.

My first post, What Size Sexy is live over at Sally’s. Head on over, have a read (and check out the rest of the site while you’re at!)

While I’m taking it easy over here, I thought I’d share some of the fun, funny, thought-provoking and sexy things I’ve been enjoying on the intarbets!

Thanks to some inventive fundraising, Cards Against Humanity raised dough to purchase oodles of condoms and buckets of boar sperm. (They didn’t, though.)

Cliff says “…it’s easy– especially in areas as private and emotionally loaded as sex–to have a totally skewed idea of what everyone else is doing, and to try to conform to that skewed idea,”  and other stuff that makes a whole lot of sense to me.

I’d love to be a sex educator for parents and kids. Like The Mama Sutra!

I hear tell that some folks think we’re all going to die in a fiery inferno this weekend. That’s probably not true, but if Armageddon does come to pass, 25% of men will regret that they didn’t have more sex.

This spoken word piece on fatherhood is super dope!

I have a new Internet/blog friend! Annie is a wise, witty wordsmith and her blog, The Belle Jar is a treasure trove of feminist musings.

A mega-sized coffee table book of photography and graphic art from The Golden Age Of Porn? YES, PLEASE!

This article about perceptions of black sexuality in the U.S. fascinates me.

Hands up if you love The Lingerie Addict as much as I do!

Before I jet, I just want to say thank you everyone who commented, Tweeted or e-mailed with well-wishes after last week’s post. I’ve read all of them several times over and I feel very blessed to be part of  such a supportive community of friends. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

 

 

Dear Santa Claus,

Whassup? Merry Christmas, seasons greetings, holiday cheer and all that rad stuff!

This past Saturday some cool peeps at the Adult Fun Superstore invited a group of local bloggers to check out their wares at an in-store Pandora Party.

I used to host similar workshops back in my sex store days, but I haven’t been to one in years so I was keen to see what’s new in the wonderful world of adult toyland.

 

Props to your sexy elves, Santa! There are quite a few items that have made my wishlist. Yes, I am a grown woman. Putting gift requests through your office at my age is unorthodox, to be sure. But The MoMs and I are instating holiday austerity measures in anticipation of some costly plans in the new year. That leaves you and my mom as gifting sources. I think we can both agree that you are by far the more appropriate option.

I think I’ve been pretty nice this year so here, for you consideration, is my naughty Christmas wish list.

 

1. Dickalicious Penis Arousal Gel

Saying the word “dickalicious” elevates my mood by at least 17%. As a person living with clinical depression, I cannot ignore the profound effect this product might have on my quality of life.

Also? I licked it and it is super-yum.

2. Dreamworlds Steelworks Plug

 

This is some beautiful, blinged out backside hardware. I’ve been wanting to experiment with accessories. Every moment in life – including anal -is an opportunity for style!

3. Lelo Luna Beads

 

Fact: I love me some Lelo toys

Fact: I love me some vaginal balls

Fact: If you bring these for me, Santa, I will be full of Christmas cheer, all year long!

4. Sportsheet Spreader Bar

Truthfully, I’d never considered playing with one but the moment I saw this, I desperately wanted it. The neoprene cuffs are so comfy! It doesn’t take a Freudian to understand why the thought of a hard steel rod between my legs is exciting.

So, in conclusion…

Please can I have a spreader bar? Please can I have a spreader bar? Please, please, please, pretty please, please please, PLEASE?

Yours sincerely,

Nadine

 

 

 

Image by Tim Geers

Number 11 of my 40 Before 40 is: Write a book.

Shelley Taylor is, amongst other things, a champion of sex-positivity, the founder of Venus Envy and an all-around superb human being. She’s also the creator of Pass The Herpes, an awesome blog that discourages stigma by encouraging people who live with genital herpes to share their stories.

Shelley asked me to participate in a blog hop.  It’s similar to a chain letter, except instead of correspondence, each blogger answers a series of questions about their book. Vain woman that I am, I lept at the chance to write an entirely self-focused entry about my book. Then I remembered that I haven’t written a book…unless you count my  NaNoWriMo endeavour from 2005, which you absolutely should not because it’s utterly dreadful.

So, no book yet; however it is on my list of things to do before I hit the big 4-0. So consider these answers a preview of my future literary endeavours.

What is the work­ing title of your next book?

The Talk: How to speak to kids about sex and what to say.

How did the idea come about for this book?

A few months ago, I found myself on the periphery of some controversy about a local museum exhibit designed to teach youth about sexuality. I thought it was fantastic presentation. Critics of the exhibit feared it was too explicit. Time and again, I was confronted by the argument that kids should learn about sex from their parents, not from a public institution. I disagree that sexuality and sexual health should be exempt from public education spaces. However, I total support the ideal that parents, guardians, grandparents, aunts, uncles and other caring family members can be an integral part of a young person’s sex education.

Unfortunately, most caring, conscientious parent-types don’t have easy access to comprehensive information about sex. Even basic stuff, like using lube or dentals dams as part of safer sex practices are things I only learn about through my work. People can’t and  shouldn’t have to become professional educators to access to the information their kids need. I thought to myself, “Self, what can you do to change this?”

My answer?  Start by offering advice on how to talk to youth about sex but follow up by giving them all the accurate knowledge to share.

What genre does your book fall under?

Sexual Health. Or Sexuality Education. Or Nadine Is Determined Not To Be The Only Parent Whose Kid Who Yells “Ovaries” In Public.

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

A movie version of a non-fiction book about sex? Balls-out awesome!

LeVar Burton because he would bring the ‘Reading Rainbow’-style, educator cred. My friends Kate and Natalie Joy who are both fantastic actors and fantastic parents. And finally, Sir Ian McKellen because then the Oscar nomination’s in the bag.

The one sentence rendition of your book

Teach yourself how to teach your kids about sex.

Will the book be self-published or represented by an agency?

Since we’re dealing in hypotheticals, let’s assume I’ll get picked up by a big-time publisher. Let’s also assume they’ll give me a big, fat advance which I will use to secure my retirement and to buy Fluevogs.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

It took me a few days to solidify the concept for the first manuscript. I suspect writing it might take a little longer.

What other books would you com­pare this to within your genre?

That’s the thing. I haven’t come across any other books quite like this in the genre. There are books that give advice on how parents can talk to their kids about sex but I haven’t found any that also include a lot of factual information.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Every moment during a class or training module or workshop that made me think, ‘Wow. I wish I’d learned this when I was twelve.’

What else might pique the reader’s interest about your book.

Sexually transmitted infections are fascinating – fascinating, I tell you!  My book will include a comprehensive chart listing all the STI’s, their symptoms, their effects and known treatments. It will also include some sort of fancy-pants legend. It’s seriously going to blow your mind!

Now hop along to:

Danielle Writes 642 Things

My dear friend Danielle wears many hats. She’s an author, a poet, a mother, a partner and a stand up comic. She was a fixture in Ottawa’s spoken word community until life whisked her away to Seattle. Settling into a new home while raising two young children and nuturing one’s artistic career would be more than enough to keep most people busy. But Danielle is not most people ( I suspect she has secret powers). Inspired by the book 642 Things To Write About, Danielle has made it her mission to write 642 things in 642 days.  If you want a glimpse into the extraordinary mind of a woman living an extraordinary life, check out Danielle and her blog – immediately, if not sooner!

 

 

 

This past weekend I hopped the train for Toronto and Blissdom, Canada’s marquis social media conference for women.

Stepping and repeating with fellow blogger, Julie Harrison.

I expected a lot from the event.  Industry experts sharing tips and tricks of trade. Lots of chatty time with interesting people doing interesting things. Scads of swag. And the weekend didn’t disappoint. Blissdom gave me everything I’d been expecting…and something I wasn’t.

I was not expecting the sexy.

That’s right. Blissdom gave me warm, tingly conference feels thanks to a couple of  outstanding famous people encounters! Though techincally my first encounter wasn’t with a person; it was with several! A magnificent team in hot pink representing my favourite menstrual product: Diva Cup!

I had no idea Diva Cup was one of the conference sponsors, so when I happened upon their booth I went full-fledged fangirl, gushing and squeeing to everyone within earshot about how ZOMG! DIVA CUPS ARE THE BEST EVAR and EEEEE! I LURVE THEM THE MOST!

What can I say?  Diva Cups warrant unbridled enthusiasm.

This is what a fangirl looks like!

Later the same day, I joined my fellow conferencees for some post-lunch guest speaking. The first person to grace the stage was none other than Q host and secret celebrity crush, Jian Ghomeshi!

He spoke to us about growing up as the lone Iranian kid in Thornhill, a decidedly non-Iranian suburb of Toronto. The memories he shared were the inspiration for his recently released memoir, 1982. His stories and the excerpts he read delighted the audience and propelled my crush to new soaring heights!

After the speaking, Ghomeshi The Witty And Handsome stuck around for meeting, greeting and book signing. Of course, I nabbed a copy and got my smitten ass in line. Not wanting a repeat of my Diva Cup flail, I tried to think of clever things I would say when my turn came up.

Hi, Jian. What a coincidence! You grew up in Thornhill. My name is Thornhill!  What?! No!.

Hi, Jian. Do you know that you and my partner went to the same high school? Which would be interesting if The Man of Mans were here instead of me.

Hi, Jian. Remember that time you were in Moxy Fruvous and did that bitchin’ cover of ‘Green Eggs And Ham’? For the love of pants, brain, I said clever! Think of clever things to say!

But thinking time was over. I was at the front of line, face to face with the man who’s interviewing genius makes me weak in the knees.

“Hello, Nadine,” he said warmly, before I had a chance to speak.

Holy balls!  I thought, Jian Ghomeshi knows who I am!

A  moment later I realized that Jian Ghomeshi knows how to read name tags. I was wearing a big one clipped on the breast pocket of my jacket. But it felt like he knew who I was. And that friendly familiar greeting brought me frantic fan to feeling relaxed and comfortable.

He asked what I did and what had brought me to Blissdom. When I told him I was sex educator, he eagerly insisted I tune in on Monday to hear his conversation with Junot Diaz, who’s most recent short-story collection is about love, relationships and sexy stuffs. I also mentioned the interview he had done with Dr. Ruth earlier this summer.

“Yeah. I still have to go on my date with her,” he told me. I didn’t know which one I envied more, Jian or the good doctor.

He asked if I’d like to take a picture together. “Sure,” I replied in my best I-have-my-picture-taken-with-brilliant-good-looking-people-all-the-time voice.

A moment of bliss!

 

I said thank you and good-bye. A few minutes later, I sat down to check out my 100% authentic Jian Ghomeshi signature. I thought I’d only see the scrawl of his name on the inside cover. Instead I read this:

For Nadine,

Please understand it’s critical but loving words on Thornhill

Yours (with a smile),

Jian Ghomeshi

Thornhill represent!

Yep. Blissdom definitely exceeded my expectations. :-)