I always win

Not a bad weekend. Got caught up on my sleep, which had been suffering in the last couple of weeks. Got some domestic crap done. I tried to get back into the self-help book I'm currently reading, Reinventing Your Life . I abandoned it earlier this year when I came to the part that instructed me to write a letter (in my dominant hand) to my wounded inner child, and let my inner child answer back in my non-dominant hand. Seriously. I'm finding that to be a bit of a road block. My shrink told me to skip it. I'm inclined to agree, because I think the book's foundations in cognitive therapy are good. In a future post, I'll describe what life traps the book says I've fallen into!

It's Friday... time for another man from my Top Ten List. The previous entries (in no particular order) were Eric Bana , Adrian Pasdar , and Paul Rudd . Get your spoons ready... here comes my fourth man, Chris Evans : Yes, he's pretty in an obvious sort of way. But he's also hella sexy. I was in such a state after seeing Fantastic Four that I thought I was in a pull-through parking spot, and drove into a cement barrier in the movie theatre garage. Here's another shot, much more rough-and-tumble: APPRECIATE HIM!

I'm sure there will be a bullet train to Georgetown in the next decade! You know... unless our governments decide to make more rail lines into parks or trails. Peter , Jason , and I enjoyed meeting you yesterday evening. And remember, Dickey ... it's your blog, you can kvetch if you want to.

My last two posts were about love and romance. Here's why: I met someone at the beginning of October. After what I thought was a good first date on the 6th, we made plans for a second date. We talked on the phone, and decided to go for Sunday brunch on the 15th. I called the day before to firm up the plans; he didn't answer. (No, it wasn't a case of me always calling him .) Sunday came and went. He never called back, or e-mailed. (He still hasn't.) Boo hoo; big deal. This crap happens to everyone. Be a man; suck it up and move on. You slept with him on the first date. He's seven years younger. You met on a gay hook-up site. You hooked up, and you drove him home the next afternoon. What more were you expecting? Here's what I was expecting: to have my call returned to go out for a nice brunch, as planned that someone who exhibited prior behaviour that can best be described as "into me" wouldn't suddenly give me the brush-off So, unless ...

Many years ago, someone told me that I was "in love with being in love." I took issue with that notion. I found it dismissive. It devalued the fact that I was lonely and was hoping to fall in love and shack up. I thought it was like saying "you're in love with being healthy," or "prosperous," or "happy." Duh . This idea was addressed in a recent Savage Love column . If what this poor guy wrote to Dan about is true, then I think I finally understand what "in love with love" might mean. I'm curious to know what y'all think.

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. - George Santayana, The Life of Reason Many people who know me say that I'm too caught up in ancient history (in the proverbial sense). I trot out the ghost stories from my past and deconstruct them, over and over again. While I concede that excessive wading into the waters downstream from the bridge can be limiting, I don't think it's unreasonable to stop every once in a while and look back at what has transpired. You are, in large part, a bundle of your past experiences. In 1994, I moved to Toronto for school. I was finally out of the closet (mostly), in good shape, and feeling really good about the future. I especially enjoyed being 24 and having my "fresh meat" status at the local gay bars. I had just registered for my courses in the week after Labour Day, and when Friday came around, I headed out to Colby's--one of the best gay clubs in the city. There, I met Kevin. He was dark-haired, ...

Back in March , I promised a posting of my Top Ten List. (Given the recent dearth of posts on this clog, I should consider stretching that list out to ten posts.) The list has been a fluid thing over the years, but Paul Rudd has been there since I first saw him (along with just about everyone else) in 1995's Clueless . In the spring of 1998, I had to log a weekend of retail therapy to get over seeing Rudd in The Object of My Affection . (He completely destroyed me in that film.) And unlike Rachel Weisz's character in The Shape of Things (2003), I thought Paul Rudd's character was perfect and not in need of a makeover. So, thanks to Peter 's surfing, I bring you the intelligent sensuality of Paul Rudd: (Lookit the boxers on the floor! I'm done !)

Many thanks to Butchie , mad Photoshop genius.