One Is The Loneliest Number

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Here’s a poem I wrote I don’t-know-when:


Met a boy who was cute as can be
And I tried & I tried so that he could see
It wasn’t “them” he wanted, it was totally me.
But the cost of his heart was an unfair fee.
With my assets drained leaving liabilities,
Someone else owns his equity.
So I sit and I wonder on the TTC…
“Will someone ever choo-choo-choose Ari?”

Painting by Nigel Van Wieck: “Q Train”

*single blink*

CRY ME A RIVER, am I right???!  Ugh. That girl is gooooooooone. Things are great, guys! Things are looking up! And how are you?


Don’t Cry Out Loud

It’s funny.  When I think I’ve taken 10 steps forward in the acceptance and happiness of my single gal status; I see 437 women on my train rocking their engagement rings. *single blink*

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Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer

THESE ARE MY CONFESSIONS (WARNING: Do not try this at home – I’m trained):

Sometimes when the subway is standing room only and I’m sandwiched beside a hot, young professional reading the paper and holding on to the high bar, I’ll FULLY pretend he’s my man. I take up residence in the warm, Old Spiced-nook and cranny just below his armpit,  like I’m s’posed to be there. Shoot… He never knows the difference and I’m content until Bay Station when I feign surprise that he’s got to get around me to exit the train.  *single blink*

I’m not ashamed.

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Hold my hand


Spadina subway station.  Eastbound platform.  A couple walking side by side.  Her left arm extended, fingers outstretched toward her boyfriend’s hand.  He looked at it and put both of his hands in his jacket pocket.  Damn. True romance at every turn.  *single blink*

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