Nausea and women in their early 30s is not a strange combination. Most often, it’s a result of pregnancy, a joyous and monumental event in a woman’s life that is worthy of a celebration. However, sometimes these two things combine in more unsettling circumstances. Here is an example.

When I was still part of the storytelling series Rain City Chronicles, we would set up a booth at the Blim Community Market and collect stories from people walking by. We’d encourage them to write and draw them out, or record their tales on a digital recorder we’d provide. I wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about doing this, probably because in my time as a journalist I was forced to do hundreds of streeters, a task that involves walking up the strangers and harvesting opinions on the issues of the day. The ratio is about one person willing to answer for every 99 who don’t. (Also see: Those people who stand outside of pet stores with clipboards, asking if you have a minute to talk about dying animals.)

The people I did enjoy talking to at the Blim market were kids, as they have no judgment or qualms about chatting with strangers. They also provided funny and inspiring anecdotes.

I also enjoyed talking to hot guys.

Nothing perks me up like a hot guy. I don’t drink coffee but I imagine it’s to the same effect: You’re alert, happy and rearing to go.

So when a fresh-faced fellow sat down at the table to share some stories, I bolted right up.

His name was Shia. He had wide-set almond eyes and chin-length brown hair. He gave off a skateboarder vibe, the punk kind, and told hilarious stories of him and his friends getting naked in public and doing stupid shit.

I watched in awe as he told his stories,  moving in closer and making direct eye contact. I’d space out occasionally to wonder how old he was. Shia was so beautiful – in the “raised by a hippie mum” kind of way.

I placed him at minimum 20, more than a decade younger than me. The youngest I’d gone was five years my junior, which was a bit of a stretch, when it came to maturity, but so much fun, er, in every other aspect.

Although his energy was a bit spastic, Shia had a wise, open spirit, as proven by the fact that he was interested in sitting down and connecting with me.  Not many young men would do such a thing.

I imagined what it would be like to date him. How much I could teach him and how much I could learn. I needed to let loose a bit, open up and take in the world. A (much) younger man could help me take myself a little less seriously. We had so much to learn from each other, Shia and I. Oh, the things I could teach him. There was so much territory to explore, it was all so exciting. I wondered what we’d do for our first date. Something youthful and fun but not silly like the skate park. Horseback riding, perhaps. Or a  baseball game.

“How old are you Shia?” I finally asked, even though it was irrelevant to the task at hand.

“I just turned 15,” he answered.

A shock hit me, similar to how you feel when you find out someone you know has died. Everything around you blurs and all you can hear is a high pitch ringing in your ears, followed by the sound of your breathing, which is slowly getting harder to do.

Then my body was hit with a bowling ball of nausea in my chest. The room was spinning, my face was hot and my stomach was surging in all directions.

I had just fantasized about dating someone half my age. Someone who was very much a minor. Someone who was completely illegal.

In that moment, through all the spinning and hot flashes and nausea, I realize how old I was. Not in the sense that I was out of touch and crotchety, but that I really, really should have known better.

I thanked my higher power for giving me both the instinct and good sense to know how wrong the whole thing was. Then I thanked Shia for sharing his stories with me.

“My mom’s over there selling soap,” he said, pointing to a woman across the room. She looked to be in my age bracket.

Shia waved good bye and walked over to his mom.

Unlike most men I feel a strong and immediate attraction towards, I wasn’t sad to see this one go. Because he didn’t come close to qualifying as a man. And I knew better as a result.

So, I’m writing this on a day that a reputable yet schlocky and unoriginal card-making company decided to pronounce as the day to celebrate love in a monetary way with, preferably, someone you bump parts with or on.

No I’m not thinking about love and how I don’t seem to be the master of it. I’m certainly not thinking about resorting to online dating, which, personally, seems like the most terrifying and baffling activity a person can partake in. Perhaps it’s because I have a sincere fear of appearing desperate and putting yourself out there to that extent means you take dating very seriously, which I clearly don’t. Not at this point in my life anyway. Anyhow, I recently asked a friend to take me through her online dating profile and was completely sucked in for a few hours. What I found most intriguing were the questions they ask you. They all seemed to be generic and unoriginal, which I guess reflects a large portion of the population. Regardless, I decided to see how I would answer some of them, stream of consciousness-style. So here you have it, the closest I’ll ever come to online dating.

If you decided to stay at home for the evening would you tend to:
A: watch TV
B: clean
C: talk on the phone
D: read

Okay, I’m going to answer this one honestly, ‘cause that’s kind of what I do. I’m honest. And therefore, not terribly polite. Or tactful. Or ladylike for that matter. But yes, I’m going to answer this one with a pure honest heart: All of the above. It’s not really a matter of IF I decide to stay at home, it’s more like WHEN. Which is precisely all the time. Or to be more precise, 97 per cent of the time. And that includes the time I leave my house to walk an average of three blocks to do one of the following: walk my dog, get groceries, pick up mooshoo pork. All that is within cart-wheeling distance of my actual house, so I still consider it my home. Which I never leave. I’m always there. Talking on the phone. Cleaning. Wishing I had a TV to watch. Cuddling my dog in the fetal position on the floor. Staring out the window.

I spend a lot of time at home.

*

If you were taken by your date to a party where you knew no one, how would you respond?
A: stay close to my date, letting him/her introduce me
B: find a spot at the back bar and relax alone, letting him/her work the room
C: strike out on my own, introducing myself and making friends
D: I would ask my partner if I could skip this particular event

Hmmmm. This one depends. Is my date more famous than me? If so, I’m totally okay with being a trophy date. If not, and my date is or looks like a model, the roles would be reversed. I have a thing for men who are or look like models. Preferably ones who model for  high end luxury brands like Gucci, and not herpes medication or Phoenix University.

*

When in a relationship, how much personal space do you generally find you need?
A: I don’t have a great need for “personal space.” I like lots of together time.
B: I find my time spent working is enough personal time, the rest I like to spend with my partner.
C: As long as I can get one night a week to myself, my personal space needs are met.
D: When I’m with my partner I’m completely there, but I do need considerable time for personal reflection.

You know, I’ve been called “needy” before. That’s pretty much the most commonly used adjective to describe me by anyone who’s known me intimately.  Although I mostly identify with “A”, my reality is “D”, minus the first part of the sentence, because I’m rarely there. I’m usually somewhere else. In my head.

*

What best describes your parents’ relationship towards each other:
A: married and loving
B: married but distant
C: divorced and civil
D: divorced and abusive

My parents have been married for more than 40 years. They say the secret to making it work is trust, compromise, and acceptance. So my dad accepts the fact that my mom needs her space for a good portion of the day, so she can read her 700 page book about the opium poppy cultivation in Afghanistan while my mom accepts the fact that my dad is very social and needs to be surrounded by lots of friends, particularly if these friends are young, female and Brazilian.

On a related note, though I appreciate the idea of it, I often question monogamy.

*

Your idea of adventure is:
A: whitewater rafting
B: karaoke singing
C: trying a different route to work
D: ordering a dish you’ve never tried before

Not washing my hands after riding the subway.

*

Which of the following quirks would bother you most about your partner?
A: uses poor grammar
B: tends to cling to you in social situations
C: is not familiar with current events
D: superstitious

Quirky is too cute a word. I want people who use clichés and write “your” instead of “you’re” to die. Unless they’re dyslexic. Or a model. Or a dyslexic model.

*

How do you feel about premarital sex?
A: I am completely opposed to it
B: as long as marriage is imminent, it is okay
C: in the context of a loving relationship, it is okay
D: I accept sex as a natural part of dating

It usually feels really good.

*

How would you assess your verbal intimacy skills?
A: I am extremely comfortable talking about my innermost needs and desires.
B: With the exception of a couple areas, I’m comfortable being verbally intimate.
C: I’m still learning to be verbally intimate, but my skills are improving.

D: It’s hard work for me to discuss my intimate feelings.

As in talking dirty? I’m pretty good at that. My safe word is “Bananarama”

*

How do you feel about food?
A: I consider myself a gourmand and love to dine on elaborate meals as often as possible.
B: I just eat to live, trying to be healthy and consume little.
C: I like to eat and occasionally enjoy large meals.
D: I eat three regular meals a day without much additional thought.

Sometimes, when I’m having a downer day, I’ll eat a box of Celebration cookies. The ones with the caramel in the middle. Then it usually fills me up so I don’t have to cook dinner. Which is good because all that’s in the freezer is soup my mother made me back in July, and a bag of butcher bones intended for my dog.

*

How often do you find yourself laughing?
A: I crack myself up!
B: I try to laugh all the time and get serious only when it’s needed.
C: Most of my time is spent being serious but I like an occasional good laugh.
D: I’m generally a pretty serious person.

I crack myself up! Oh wait, A.

*

Do you enjoy debating the issues of the day with your partner?
A: I hate to debate about anything.
B: Occasionally I don’t mind a friendly debate, but I don’t really enjoy it.
C: As long as we don’t get too intense, I enjoy a good discussion about general issues.
D: I find it stimulating to debate various “issues of the day” with my partner and love it.

If the issues of the day include “Why are you getting inside my head in such an unhealthy manner” then, yeah, I enjoy debating the issues of the day.

*

Which of the following indoor activities sounds like the most fun to you?
A: cooking
B: shopping
C: bowling
D: watching a video

I thought we covered this in the first question. I stay home a lot. By myself. Alone.

*

Hey fellas! How about that? I want to hear about your online dating stories. Please email me at write@eliannalev.com or leave a comment below. Because seriously…I don’t know how people do it. Convince me otherwise!

Last week I met a warm-hearted, successful and handsome fellow at a concert who I immediately took a liking to. Over the course of the night, we established that we’re both hyper-communicators, super in tune with our emotions, and completely committed to the craft of writing. In other words, he was a candidate to be my new dream man.

He walked me home and we sat on my patio with my dog Dutchie snuggled in between us.  I knew by the end of the night he would express how he felt about me.

We continued to bond over things like our vices (his: women, mine: men) and the fact that we’re both neurotic Jews, in our own special way. He told me how he dates all the time and I asked him where he meets these lucky ladies.

“Everywhere. The bus stop, the grocery store,” he said. “Guys in this city don’t ask out girls so when I put myself out there like that, it’s really not hard to get a date.”

I told him about a recent trip to LA, where men do double takes at you with sincere admiration every time you leave the house. I can’t remember a time when I felt so noticed, and in turn, beautiful.  It simply doesn’t happen like that here in Vancouver.

I commended my new friend on his tactics and told him I too am the one who usually is the pursuer, though I was starting to consider taking a different approach. Usually, when I know what I want, I know how to get it. But the pursuit was starting to get exhausting and if my track record says anything, my approach rarely produces long-term results. I told him the bottom line is that I’m not scared of the possibility of love. Then I leaned in and kissed him.

It was getting late and he called a cab. I took his number. He looked at me and smiled.

“I’m really interested in you but –”

*

A year ago, I sat my close friend Sarah down with a bottle of wine and a digital recorder and told her to tell me her secret. Sarah is intoxicatingly beautiful. She is also enchanting, charming, warm, funny, smart, witty, and intriguing. In other words, for men, she is the ultimate pursuit.

I have seen it countless times when I’m out with her. Men falling all over themselves to catch her attention, even if it’s just for a quick chat. One time that stands out particularly, was when a grey-haired, pony-tailed, washed up bohemian-type man ran out from a restaurant to ask us if we were lost. I watched as Sarah politely talked to this man, who said he was a photographer and that he really liked her “unique style.” (She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.) I stood and watched in disgust and pity at this ridiculous old yam. I wondered where on earth he had the gall. I wanted to tell him that we are all blinded by our delusions but please, let’s get real.

What equally impresses and baffles me is that Sarah will always give her time to these men, which in turn, makes them feel like they have a chance. I view her actions as being philanthropic, a way to give back to men for expressing interest and in turn, make them feel good about themselves. Because Sarah is a better person than I ever will be.

When a man who clearly doesn’t have a chance with me starts to chat me up, I quickly tell him where to go. But that’s a story for another time.

It goes without saying that Sarah doesn’t have a problem getting not only what she wants, but getting what she wants to fall deeply, deeply in love with her. She just has a way with love.

So, that night when we sat down with a bottle of wine and my digital recorder, I asked her to tell me how she does it.

“There’s no real secret or anything,” she shrugged. “I’m simply put off when a man isn’t interested in me.”

*

“I’m really interested in you but –“

I honestly can’t remember what my new friend said after that because I totally tuned it out. Had this been a year ago, I would have overanalyzed his statement, agonized about it for days, then beat myself up for not being good enough. After I’d done that, I also would have probably pursued him anyway, in an attempt to make him realize that his initial feelings were wrong and that I am amazing and that he totally wants to date me.

Instead, I went inside, locked the door and deleted his number from my phone. I felt like shit, but it was a start.

The next morning, I took Dutchie out for a walk. An older woman and her black and white Shih Tzu walked towards us. The only thing my dog cares about in this world is me, so when other dogs approach her she generally ignores them. But something different happened this time. I watched in amazement as, after sniffing the Shih Tzu’s butt, Dutchie started to bounce around with sheer excitement.  I’d never seen her like this before. She pawed at the Shih Tzu’s face, waved her butt to his nose and bounced around some more. She was completely taken. I tried to walk away but she didn’t want to leave and neither did her new boyfriend. When we finally did, the Shih Tzu ran after Dutchie. They did more pawing, bouncing, tail wagging and sniffing and finally, the Shih Tzu’s owner called her dog, Teddy, and they parted ways. Within seconds, Dutchie was back in her zone, marching ahead, in tune with her step, as if nothing had even happened. I looked down at my dog lovingly and shook my head in amazement. I truly admired her approach.

Confidential to MM: I really look forward to reading your stories on love when you finally feel inspired. For whatever it’s worth, you inspired me.