Twenty-four years ago today I was in my third year of university in Ottawa. I had a group of incredible friends and life was just one party after the next. Three months earlier I had met a guy who was entirely different from any guy I had ever known; loud, outspoken, incredibly smart, and a little bit dangerous.
I was completely smitten.
Simon had a girlfriend when we met and he spent the better part of the winter winding down his relationship. As a result, nothing had been able to develop between us other than a powerful mutual attraction.
It was March 7, 1990 and I found myself standing in the Duke of Somerset ready to head home with my roommate, Lindsay, for the night. We had celebrated Simon’s 22nd birthday and it had been an incredible night. As I went to say goodbye to the birthday boy, Eric Clapton started to sing. And as Clapton crooned Wonderful Tonight, Simon kissed me for the first time.
I am an incurable romantic so perhaps I don’t have a leg to stand on when I say this but…that kiss was incredible. And to this day, I can close my eyes and evoke the feeling of the rest of the world falling away while I lost myself in those few moments.
I floated home on air that night and had the distinct impression that Simon was someone who was going to become an important part of my life.
Simon and I have kissed millions of times since that night twenty-four years ago. Sometimes it is an offhand hello, goodbye or a quick I love you. Every once in a while, though, I get swept away by that feeling from all those years ago that just goes right down to my toes and reminds me that Simon is the only one for me.
Happy birthday Simon. I love you! xo
It is Sunday night after a busy birthday weekend and I am worn out. I have spent the better part of my weekend surrounded by small members of the opposite sex and I am feeling the need to retreat into some uber-female activity. Having three sons means that there is a significant dearth of female company in my life. Don’t get me wrong…I love boys and I absolutely love being a boy-mom.
Sometimes, however, I just need a good dose of my own kind.
Tonight, that dose of female-ness is going to be a deliciously romantic Jane Austen movie.
I had lunch with my buddy Liz a few weeks ago and she asked me to name my favourite go-to movie (the one I watch when I am sick or tired or even just a little low). The 2005 production of Pride & Prejudice is that movie for me, hands down. And I have watched it so many times I could probably perform every scene.
And what is it about this particular production of a novel that was written over a century ago that lures me in time and again? I am fascinated by the costumes, the scenery and the study of life for a woman in that era. And I am absolutely enthralled by the romance, the missed chances, the misunderstandings and the happy ending. And then there are the over-the-top characters of Mrs. Bennett, Mr. Collins and Lady Catherine de Bourgh (played so brilliantly by Judy Dench).
When I am feeling sick, tired or low and I settle in to a nice little session with the Bennett family, the disdainful refrain from any of the males in my family is; ‘Oh God, you are NOT watching that movie AGAIN! Nobody does anything and nothing ever happens!’ What they mean is there is no alien invasion, no terrorist attack, no super-virus wiping out the planet!
I have nothing to say in defense of my go-to movie and I have stopped even trying. I just brace myself for the teasing and settle happily into the bosom of the Bennett family. And I silently celebrate the fact that as much as I love living with men, this woman is most certainly from Venus!