Bring back the Date Night!

For months now, I’ve been complaining to my husband about the disappearance of our date nights. Our last one (PechaKucha Night and dinner at Miku) was in January! I guess life intervened – work got busier, kids play-dates and activities ran us ragged and unshowered, it seems even the weather conspires against us. It’s all we can do to wrestle the kids into bed at 9PM and then we spend 2-3 hours on laptops in different rooms, catching up on email and bills. We even schedule things with each other via our wireless internet instead of walking the 20 feet to each other’s “office” and having a conversation. We collapse into bed at different times, him at 11PM, me closer to midnight. Add baseball 4 nights a week and this never ending rainy weather, I’m surprised that we remember that we love each other at all.

I know I am loved. But after nearly 20 years into a relationship, is it even possible to still lust for one’s partner?

We’ve heard over and over again that date nights are the answer. But we find this advice somewhat awkward as we were friends first. Actually, we were secret lovers first (our MBA school discouraged class romances saying they’re too distracting). Then we moved on to being haters (MBA school was right), then surprisingly to colleagues at CIBC, then friends, until one day he let me crash as his apartment when I moved to Toronto and I never left. I don’t remember him ever wooing me and now I’m in my mid-life crisis, I feel it’s absence. Strangers at Buffalo Bills or at your local construction site will make plain their desire for anything that has a vagina, but I’m finding it’s really important to me to feel desired by the man I’m married to.

As my life coach always says, once you make your needs known, the next move is up to him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yesterday I got a call from a man I did my MBA with. He was from my Marketing class to be exact. We exchanged pleasantries for awhile and came upon a pause in the conversation. Then he asked me out to dinner! That night! Even though I already had dinner already prepared, I said yes and we started giggling helplessly, like teenagers.

We laughed because it actually was my husband on the phone, but his gesture was sincere. He later admitted that his feet started sweating when he was dialling my cell phone number. Even though he knows he has me, he still wooed me. It was delicious and I highly recommend it.

Failing that, John Gray has come out with a new product called Balanced Planets’ Marriage Saving Shake. Dr. Oz, apparently, is a fan.

I’ll drink to that!
Love Lucie


Whistler: home of the 2010 Winter Olympics and many happy cougars!

Born and raised on the West Coast, Whistler feels like my backyard. I had my first kiss on a chairlift and the good times on the mountain haven’t ever stopped. I’ve rung in countless new years up there and had my bachelorette party there too. Anniversaries, family vacations, friends weddings, ski trips – the reasons to go to Whistler are endless. And now with the 2010 Winter Olympics legacy highway, I can get up there in 75 minutes flat!

I’ve travelled to many fabulous cities all over the world – London, Paris, Seoul, Tokyo, New York, Miami – but there is nothing like partying in Whistler! People from all over the world travel to Whistler to ski hard and party harder. Everyone up there seems to be on vacation from life and the energy is intoxicating.

With the weather hovering around the minus 18 degrees mark last weekend, my girlfriends and I decided to take our daily exercise indoors this year. Eschewing our skis and the necessarily unattractive balaclavas, we headed to Buffalo Bills. Bills is a long standing Whistler institution and our favourite place to dance the night away. We danced for more than 9 hours straight over our 2 day girls weekend (I think some of us secretly aspire to audition for Dancing with the Stars). We danced with a veritable United Nations of people – Scots, Swedes, Welsh, Aussies, Kiwis, Americans, Quebecois, liftees, locals, Vancouverites, hockey players, entire bachelor parties, and even women! My cheese and cracker dinner did not provide enough fuel for this dance-athon and by about 11PM, I needed a pick me up. Thanks to our friendly bartender, we discovered Jager Bombs, an absolutely delicious concoction of Red Bull and Jagermeister. 3 Jager Bombs later, I was still buzzing at 4AM and had to force myself to lie down, only to be woken abruptly by the morning train humming through Whistler Valley at 7AM. Red Bull really does give you wings, but so much for catching up on my beauty sleep!

As we were dancing with hordes (I’m not kidding) of appreciative younger men, we were struck by the fact that we were having way more fun than we’d had when we were single, footloose and fancy free. Now that we’re all happily married, it seemed a bit unfair that all these cute, six-packed opportunities would avail themselves to us. At one point, I was talking with a handsome, I-couldn’t-help-but-notice beefy young man, who told me he was giving up his hockey dreams despite being drafted by the Chicago Black Hawks to go to law school. My friends started laughing, thinking it a cheesy pick-up line (just as we had been telling people that we part of the Canadian bordercross team). But when I googled him yesterday, there his bio was. And I choked on my coffee, when I read that he was born in 1992!! At 42, I know my days at Buffalo Bills are numbered, but I’m going to savour every last delicious one of them.

I feel a bit like Benjamin Button, living my life in reverse. In my 20’s, I was a focused Working Girl, a la Melanie Griffith, working my way up the corporate ladder. I partied, but it was more about looking good and meeting qualified prospects to date. In my 30’s, I was a procreation/lactation machine and fun nights out dancing were few and far between. And if I did manage to get out and quaff a few drinks, I usually regretted them dearly the next morning. Now that I’m in my 40’s, dancing is so much fun because we don’t care who’s watching, we just give’r! And at Buffalo Bills, with at least 10 mountain men for every woman (Alaska eat your heart out!) it is a guaranteed good time!

Ironically, the best part about dancing with strange men all weekend is that you get all primed to see your hubby when you get home. Really, the hubby is the big winner in all of our girls weekends away. I become a happy wife again (which equals happy life, my hubby always says) with a boatload of memories that will keep me smiling through the next hundred loads of laundry. And I’m grateful that I get to sleep with my fabulous hubby, and no longer weeding through all those sweaty boys from around the world.

But still, it’s so much fun, I can’t hardly wait for the next one! And don’t even get me started on how much I love summer in Whistler!

Love Lucie

S&M and Women in Music

I’m a Top 40 girl, always have been. I lived for those noon-hour sock-hops in high school, and still, I love to dance the night away.

Music played an enormous part in my emotional & social development. Despite the “no boyfriends, no makeup, no parties” rules my Tiger parents enforced, being able to discuss the deeper meanings of Madonna’s Papa Don’t Preach or Whitney Houston’s Saving All My Love For You, showed the cooler kids that there was more to me than my flute. In Grade 9, I would spend hours with my ear cocked to my favourite station (CKLG 73), index and middle fingers poised over the PLAY and RECORD buttons on my AM/FM/Cassette player, ready to launch into action should Madonna’s Borderline hit the airwaves. And if I was really in the groove, I would record it perfectly, without any of that inane DJ jabber. I would try to dress like Madonna in her Lucky Star video, carefully so not to draw my parents’ ire and argue with my sisters about which one of us would get to marry John Taylor of Duran Duran. I spent countless hours playing my tapes back and forth, meticulously deciphering the lyrics so that I could sing them gleefully while dancing. Music was my happy place.

Now that I’m much, much older, music still moves me. But there are some who would argue that my tastes haven’t matured in accordance with my age. My husband chides me for my so-called teeny-bopper taste in music. But I beg to difffer – Katy Perry, Rihanna, Lady Gaga, Pink, Ke$ha – these ladies sing some of my favourite anthems! Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream has actually propelled me up the legendary Grouse Grind. Sometimes after a hard day of skiing, you will find me rocking out at Buffalo Bills, singing at the top of my lungs (without a microphone, thank goodness!)
Feel like I’m living a
The way you turn me on
Let’s run away and don’t ever look back

Great music moves me and transforms me into a dancing dervish, and I love how that makes me feel. Better than Botox, anyday.

But now, there is an incredible new song that I love and frankly, I’m aghast. Rihanna’s new S&M song is great dance music. Even the lyrics, while jaw-dropping, showcase a powerful woman Betty Friedan would be proud of, but when Ri-Ri showed up at the Grammys in a sheer dress that showcased her butt crack, I had to begin to worry about the legions of not-yet women she is influencing.

Cause I may be bad, but I’m perfectly good at it
Sex in the air, I don’t care, I love the smell of it
Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But chains and whips excite me.

Oh, I love the feeling you bring to me
Oh, you turn me on
It’s exactly what I’ve been yearning for
Give it to me strong
And meet me in my boudoir
Give my body some AHH, AHH, AHHHH,
I like it, like it

While her 42 year old fans might be able to appreciate those powerful (and explicit!) words, I’m uncomfortable with the fact that her younger fans have Rihanna as a role model for what is womanhood. I grew up on Bananarama’s Cruel Summer and The Go-Go’s Our Lips are Sealed, and really, that wasn’t that long ago!

It could be argued that every generation has their controversial star(s), and the controversy only served to make them hotter. We had Madonna who wore a rosary while dancing in front of burning cross in Like A Virgin and my mom had Elvis Presley’s gyrating hips that were deemed too hot for television. Are the overtly sexual lyrics and outfits just part of Rihanna’s global marketing strategy? Or should we be more concerned about Rihanna’s ample assets negatively impacting girls’ self esteem as they go through their formative teenage years? And what does Rihanna and her fellow female artists teach boys about women and sexuality? Suddenly, music doesn’t seem so safe anymore.

I’ve switched to an easy-listening station while I muddle this one through. Although the Kings of Leon are probably talking about the same thing as Rihanna with Sex Is On Fire, at least they keep their pants on.
Love Lucie

You gotta know when to fold ’em

I am a cougar. And a milf, or so I’ve been told. When the occasion dictates, I enjoy getting dressed up in clothes that enhance my ass(ets). I flirt with those 20-something dudes with a gusto that I never could have managed when I was in my 20’s. A happy marriage, kids, and alcohol all contribute to this gusto and I am proud of the attention (no matter how inebriated those boys are). However, as Kenny Rogers so aptly put it, “you got to know when to hold ’em, and know when to fold ’em…”

I was in Whistler this weekend with my love celebrating our 12th wedding anniversary. After a lovely 4 course dinner at the Rimrock Cafe complete with Moet, followed by a lot of Joie’s unoaked chardonnay and a Patron shooter, when we cabbed over to Buffalo Bill’s to dance off a little bit of that delish toffee bread pudding. The place was packed as per usual on a summer Saturday night, but we got in without too much of a wait. One of the things Bills is known for is the cage by the dance floor. There, 2 or 3 exhibitionists gyrate to the beat, ride up and down the bars and indulge in various pleasures much to the delight of the crowd. And while they’re not paid performers, they’ve got it and they want to flaunt it! Well this Saturday night was no exception, as the cage held 2 women on the backside of 40, attacking a man that bore strong resemblance to a very happy Lou Ferrigno. As I danced my way over to get a closer look at Lou, one of the women, pulled on the neck of her top and flashed her saggy boobs at me. Cougars gone wild!!

Similarly, readers of Hello! Canada were recently treated to a picture of Sophia Loren’s 74 year old guns, floating atop her black evening gown not unlike poached eggs swimming in hollandaise sauce and lots of cracked black pepper. Don’t get me wrong, I love the talented Ms. Loren and know that I don’t have a chance of looking one-half as good as her when I’m 74, but you can bet that I will have walked away from the decollete-baring evening gowns by then.

Love Lucie