Dec 10, 2008

The diary of Sadie Alvarez: Page 11


“Illusion is the first of all pleasures,”
-Oscar Wilde

The Doctor and I said our goodbyes and grabbed a cab out front.
Side note: Drinking and driving is unacceptable, in reality and in print.
The Doctor started kissing me in the cab. He is sexy but I feel no sparks and my mind starts to wander:
I wonder how many couples a day make out in the back of this guys cab? He should really keep track; I know the Census doesn’t. I wonder if he watches. I bet he does, I would. Cab drivers must be the horniest people in the work force. I wonder if The Doctor will think I’m strange if I eat after we have sex. Fuck I’m starving! I think I have some left over pizza in the fridge. No wait, I ate that yesterday…
We pull up to my building and he pays the cab. I secretly wish we could have stopped at McDonalds.
“My roommates are probably in bed right now,” I said.
“You have roommates? What are they like?”
“Warped,” I said and opened the door.
We kissed all the way to my room. Its better to keep the mood going when all you can think of is cheeseburgers and horny cab drivers. Also, the living room looked like a war zone.
We pull each other’s clothes off as we made our way to my bed. I was lying on top of him, kissing him and something just didn’t feel right.
I pulled him on top of me and pressed my body hard against his. Okay, something is defiantly not right.
My phone rings. My get out of bed free call!
Side note: Everyone has had a get out of bed free call; you just may not call it that. A get out of bed free call is when a friend calls you after you leave with a guy. The friend is basically calling to give you an out, should you chose to take it. Even called by any other name, a get out of bed free call is essential.
“I’ll just be a second,” I said and pulled the covers aside. I looked down. My eyes widened in shock.
I grabbed my phone, threw on my housecoat and went into the bathroom.
“Max,” I said in my loud whisper voice.
“What’s wrong!” she asked, deeply concerned.
I take a deep breath.
“Uh...how can I say this….The Doctor, uh, doesn’t have a very big ‘practice’…..”
“What the fuck are you talking about? Why do you care abo-”
“Max! He has a very small practice, his PRACTICE is very SMALL!”
“OH! Shit, I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Seriously, I’ve never seen anything like it before. What do I do?”
“Well, how far have you two gotten?”
Max! Clearly we’ve gotten pretty far,” I said. “We’ve already gotten to the ‘practice’ part!”
“Then sorry honey, your in too deep,” she said laughing. “You have to give me at least a half an hour time bracket to phone you.”
“Yeah, the cab driver was fast,” I said. “I think he was excited about something…”
“Huh?”
“Never mind,” I said. “Alright, well I’m going to go figure this out. I have some wine in the fridge.”
“Okay, but whatever you do, when you go back in there and get going, don’t ask him to put it in,” Max said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because chances are, its already in.”

The diary of Sadie Alvarez: Page 10


“Doing nothing is very hard… you never know when you’re finished.”
-Leslie Nielsen

“What are you in the mood for?” Max asked me while we waited for our server.
“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” I said.
“Fuck off Sadie, what do you want to drink?” she said laughing.
“Ceasers,” I said. “Mmm.”
“Great idea,” Max agreed. “So how did tonight go?”
“The interview went well, but the place was horrible to shoot in, I don’t know if I got one decent picture,” I said.
“I’m sure you did fine,” she reassured me. “Did they put on a good show?”
“Yeah, and something a little weird happened…” I hesitated for a second. Max raised her eyebrows.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Well, I think I’ve developed a little crush on their manager, Kyle.”
“Oh, so by weird you meant completely fucking insane?” Max said laughing.
“Precisely,” I said.
“Sadie, I know you. You’d never fuck a source,” she said kindly.
“I know, I would never want to compromise my ethics.”
“But you know, once the story is published…” Her voice trailed off.
“Not happening,” I assured her.
The waitress arrived at our table.
“What can I get you ladies?” she asked in her perky server’s voice that surely turned sensual when she was serving a table of men.
“You have class tomorrow?” Max asked me.
“Nope, and I don’t work until five.”
She turned to the waitress.
“We will have two Ceasers and two shots of Tequila.”
The waitress soon returned with our drinks, and after that she returned with many more. I sat back in my seat and put my hands on my head.
“I need something to take my find of that gorgeous band manager,” I said.
“How about that?” Max asked.
I turned and looked at where she was pointing. An equally gorgeous guy was out on the dance floor with a big group of friends.
“Not bad, not bad at all,” I said, nodding.
“Why don’t you bring sexy Sadie the pick-up artist out of retirement?”
I smiled and took a sip of my drink.
“Lets see what I can do,” I said getting out of my seat.
It didn’t take me too long to get to him, the dance floor wasn’t that busy yet. I came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned. I smiled.
“Hi,” I said. “I just wanted to let you know that if you get tired, I’m sitting right up there.” I said, pointing to my table.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
I smiled my sexiest smile. Then I turned around and walked back to my table.
“And that’s how it’s done!” I proclaimed.
“I don’t get it, what did you do?” Max asked, clearly confused.
“Just give it a few seconds,” I assured her.
After what couldn’t have been more that thirty seconds, the gorgeous man from the dance floor and one of his male friends approached our table.
“Mind if I sit down?” the mystery man asked me with a smile.
“By all means,” I said.
We all got the introductions out of the way.
“So what do you do?” he asked me.
“I’m a print journalism student and I work at a media company. And you?”
“I’m a med student. On the weekends I work at a gym.”
Well would you look at this, I thought, we have a doctor in the house!
“Do you know what might cause some ones pee to turn neon yellow?” Max asked The Doctor.
I looked at her with an expression on my face that could only mean one thing: what the fuck?
“Well it most likely means that you have too high of a vitamin B intake,” The Doctor said. “Have you been taking any vitamin supplements?”
“That must be it,” Max said.
I shook my head. Great start.
After talking to The Doctor I discovered a few crucial things about him. He was very sweet, but he defiantly wasn’t my type. I don’t really know what my type is, but I know what it isn’t.
He is a year younger than me. That just won’t fly.
But he could be fun, just for one night at least.
“So is it safe to assume that you’re coming home with me tonight?” I asked him.
“Your very upfront Sadie,” he said.
“Is that a problem?” I asked.
“No, it’s refreshing. Every girl I meet wants to marry me,” he said. That’s because you’re a doctor dumb ass, I couldn’t help but think. “You seem like the type of woman who gets what she wants.”
Oh you poor Doctor, I thought. If that were the case I’d be in bed with the sexy band manager.
“So are you going to answer my question or what?” I asked.
“Lets get out of here,” he said.

The diary of Sadie Alvarez: Page 9


“One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain,”
-Trenchtown Rock,
Bob Marley

After a quick shower, I changed and gathered my things.
Tape recorder, tapes, pens, pencils and reporters notebooks.
Nikon D80 and external flash.
Rechargeable batteries, flashlight and memory cards.
Good to go.
I decided to wear a knee length black dress with a Champaign coloured silk camisole on top. The event itself was a formal affair. After playing with my hair for a while I decided to leave it down. Down, long, shiny and brown. You never know who you might meet.
The show was taking place at an upscale hotel. It was some corporate private party for all the big wigs. A watering hole for the social climbers.
I was supposed to meet the band manager, Kyle, in front of the hotel. As I walked up the only person I saw was a very attractive man with a buttoned down shirt and tie standing alone by the door. Not who I had pictured, so I decided to call the number he had given me.
I heard a phone ringing right beside me and realized the good-looking man was the Kyle I was looking for.
“Uh, hi,” I said to him awkwardly. “I think I’m calling you.”
He laughed.
“Looks like it. You must be Sadie. I’m Kyle,” he extended his hand. I took it, oh God I wanted to take it all.
“So Kyle, are you ready to do this?” I asked.
“The guys are upstairs waiting, they are very anxious to be interviewed. Its their first time.”
“Mine too,” I joked and we headed into the hotel.
Inside the place was unbelievable. Chandleries hung down with glowing crystals that traced small rainbows along the walls. The people surrounding us were in ball gowns and full tuxedoes. Kyle and I stuck out like sore thumbs in our half-hap outfits.
I met the band and they were great, easy to interview and eager to answer questions. It was hard not to glance at Kyle out of the corner of my eye. He was gorgeous with his big blue eyes (I’m a sucker for blue eyes, I think its because mine are brown) and gorgeous smile. He had dark hair and a thick beard. And through his thin, white shirt I could see his arms were full of tattoos. A Rock ‘n’ Roll boy… my favourite.
I finished up my interviewing and we all went down to the stage. This has always been my favourite part; watch the show and take the pictures. To think one day I’ll get paid for this.
“Would it be alright with you if I put my purse on the back of the stage?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” he said with a smile.
“Thank you,” I said and went to work.
Kyle stood off to the side of the stage as I moved around the front taking pictures. I was forced to use direct flash because the ceiling was so high, but the band seemed to be fine with it. The show was great and when it was over I walked around the stage and stood beside Kyle.
“Not bad my friend, not bad at all,” I said.
“Yeah, you should see them when their not forced to sing Mr. Jones,” he said.
I laughed. He’s funny too, I thought. Then an alarm went off in my head. Don’t mess around with a work guy. Got it.
“Well thanks so much,” I said quickly, packing up my camera. “I should go now though, but I’ll call you to fact check.”
“Hey, why don’t you stay for a drink or two?” Kyle asked. “A beer costs eight dollars, but its on me,” he added.
I thought for a second… Bad idea.
“I’m sorry Kyle, but I don’t drink and work.”
“You’re done working, so what’s the big deal?”
Technically he is right… Bad idea.
“I really can’t, not that I don’t want to. We go to press tomorrow so I have a strict copy deadline,” I explained. I was lying, clearly.
“Alright, well some other time maybe. So if you go to press tomorrow, when are you going to call me to fact check?”
He was a slick one.
“Uh, tomorrow.” I answered.
“Well I’ll talk to you tomorrow then,” he said with a sly smile.
That bastard knows why I can’t stay and have a drink. That smile tells it all.
“Talk to you tomorrow,” I said and turned quickly to leave.
On my way back to my car I cursed myself for being so obvious. When I’m feeling something, I wear it on my face. Clearly he’s attractive. But I’m just a journalism student covering a show. That’s all.
As I approach my car my phone rings making me jump. I looked at the screen. Kyle.
He must be attracted to me too! No, no, bad idea! I’m just going to have to tell him that I could never sleep with a source.
“Hello,” I said slowly.
“Hi Sadie, uh, yeah, you need to come back here...”
“Listen Kyle, I really can’t stay out late, seriously, I’m sorry,” I said quickly.
“Sadie,” Kyle said laughing. “You forgot your purse.”
I went silent for a moment.
“Oh shit, I’ll be right back!” I said and turned back toward the hotel.
Ben was waiting for me at the front entrance. Smiling.
“Thank you so much, I completely forgot,” I said. “I guess I would have discovered it was gone when I tried to start my car.”
He handed me my purse. My heart pounded loudly.
“Not a problem Sadie, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said with an even bigger smile.
He is laughing at me inside of his head right now, I thought.
“Yes, tomorrow,” I said and turned around to leave. I got inside my car and took a deep breath. Obviously this isn’t the first good-looking man I’ve ever seen. But he was something, that’s for sure.
I grabbed my phone and called Max.
“Hello, hello!” she said when she picked up.
“Hello, hello! Drinks? Yes?” I asked.
“Yes please. It’s Wednesday, you know where to meet me.”
I laughed. “Alright, be there in 20.”

Dec 8, 2008

The diary of Sadie Alvarez: Page 8


‘Buy the ticket, take the ride,’
-Hunter S. Thompson

“Oh my God, so how’d you get rid of him?” Max asked, her blue eyes wide with horror.
“I told him I had an appointment to get my shirts stretched,” I said shovelling a forkful of eggs into my mouth.
Max burst out laughing.
“Maybe he’ll take the hint and do it himself. No really… what did you do?” she asked.
“Well I told him I had to leave because I had a breakfast date with you,” I said.
“And you called me this morning to go for breakfast...” Max said.
“So I wouldn’t be lying,” I finished.
“Got it,” said Max.
“But I gave him my number,” I admitted.
“Are you serious? Why would you do that?”
“I felt bad, he was all leaning in for the kiss and I said ‘uh, can I get your number or something’ and he said ‘can I get yours?’” I explained.
“What a fucker. Well what are you going to do when he calls?” Max asked.
“If he calls I was thinking I just wouldn’t pick up,” I said. “After all it was just one date, I don’t owe him anything.”
“Well have fun getting rid of this one,” she said. “Maybe he wont ‘believe’ that he called. Wait. Leaned in for the kiss? Did you kiss the bad-dressing, non-believing man?”
“Ewe, no! Don’t be gross.”
“Good,” she said. “You could have caught some of his ‘disbelief.’”
“In Stephen Colbert’s book I Am America, And So Can You, he makes this joke about atheists and what they would scream out during sex,” I said.
“What’s that?” Max asked.
Oooooh nothingness!” I said in my quietest fake orgasm voice.
Max burst into fits of hysterics.
“That’s sexy, I think I’d blow as soon as he said that,” she said sarcastically.
Oh yeah, me too.” I rolled my eyes.
“So what’s next for sexy Sadie the pick-up artist?” she asked with a smirk on her face.
Not only does Max know that I hate being called sexy Sadie, but she also knows I hate being referred to as the pick-up artist.
This was a name she coined during a spring break vacation when I just so happened to hook up with three different guys. I don’t see anything wrong with having numerous sexual partners; in fact I see more harm in trying to keep track of them all. Call me what you want but I just don’t give a shit. I love sex.
That weekend I bet her that I could pick up more than one decent guy, but only using cheesy pick-up lines that I printed out from the Internet.
Well I met three hot guys that week, had a lot of fun, got the guy's numbers and won fifty bucks. Max won the right to piss me off.
“Who knows,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “But I do have to go out and cover a rock concert tonight, this big event with a poor rock band forced to play cheesy ‘90s covers, you know. I’m covering it for the campus paper. Do you want to meet me when I’m finished working?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
And with that I headed home to get ready to meet up with the bands manager.

I open the front door to the house and an empty chewing tobacco container comes shooting past my head, bounces off the doorframe and lands at my feet.
“GOAL!” I hear being shouted from the living room.
I picked up the container.
“What is this?” I asked.
“It’s our hockey puck,” Allen said matter-of-factly. “You wanna go in nets?”
“Where’s the net?” I asked.
“The front doorframe,” Brian called from the living room. “We wanted to keep it simple.”
The boys and their two friends were all wearing safety goggles. One of them had a mini-stick, the other had the broom- that had been sawed in half to make the stick shorter- and Allen and Brian both had full sized hockey sticks.
“The other net is here,” Allen said, pointing to the empty milk crates on the floor.
“Impressive,” I said. “But I have to work.”
“Your loss!” Brian said as he dropped the puck in the centre of the living room.
So this is university life, I thought. I wonder how much of the house will be left when I get home tonight.


Dec 7, 2008

The diary of Sadie Alvarez: Page 7


“Man is what be believes.”
-Anton Chekhov

In my first semester of school I had already gotten a receptionists job at the company that I work for now. I figured start small, think big.
I couldn’t work too many hours a week, but it was my in none the less. One night my boss ran into the front office looking quite anxious.
“Sadie, thank God!” he said, startling me.
“Um yes sir.”
“Your taking journalism, do you know any camera men?” he asked.
“No, I’m not studying that type of journalism,” I said.
“Well just find one. Call the school and find a camera man!” he yelled. Then he turned on his heels and left the room.
After 3 phone calls to seven departments including four call transfers that led me back to the operator, I got a hold of the broadcasting department. The coordinator said that he would send over a student cameraman right away.
I called my boss right away to tell him the good news.
“Great Sadie, I knew you’d come in handy!” he said. To this day I’m still not sure if that was a compliment or not.
“Uh, thanks sir.” I mumbled.
“We are going to need you on set as well. We’re short handed and at this point even a monkey could help.”
I hung up and waited for the cameraman. Me, on the set of a music video. Sure it was a low budget indie video. But it was my first one. I was a music video virgin.
All the excitement that was building up inside me was almost ready to burst out when the cameraman arrived.
He walked in wearing jeans and a leather jacket with a scarf around his neck. He was kind of cute, in that boho meets old-school punk sort of way. A little short for my taste, but he looked like fun.
“I’m here to shoot a video.” He said.
I extended my arm.
“Hi, I’m Sadie. Follow me and we’ll head back to the main studio.”
“I’m Jeff, by the way. Wow, this place is big. So what do you do here?” he asked.
“Well right now I’m working the reception desk, but one day I hope to own the place.”
Jeff chuckled.
“Women truly are taking over.”
“You said it, not me,” I said as I opened the door to the studio.
It looked exactly as I expected it to look. In fact it looked better because I was there. The cameras, the light, the smoke. My boss set Jeff up at a camera and asked me to sit in a chair beside the director’s chair.
I watched as take after take my boss freaked out at the crew about everything you could possibly think of. They seemed to be keeping it together. Jeff was still wearing his long leather jacket. I can remember wondering if he was hot.
I didn’t contribute anything to the video except that I was another pair of eyes watching it all go down. But it was fun, none the less and I felt like celebrating.
“Hey Jeff!” I called as I reached for my coat.
“Do you want to go have a few drinks and celebrate?” I asked him.
“That depends on what we’re celebrating,” he said with a small grin.
“We are celebrating a job well done and a totally awesome night. Are you in?”
Jeff pretended to think for two seconds.
“Alright, I’m in.”
We made plans to meet up at a pub down town in half an hour.
I went into the bathroom at work to freshen up. I wouldn’t have time to change, but the least I could do has have a quick meeting with the Speed Stick. The whole thing smelled like a date to me.
I have to admit I was excited. When I arrived at the restaurant Jeff was already there waiting for me. He has taken the liberty of ordering a bottle of red wine. I prefer white, but who’s complaining?
He finally took off his coat to reveal what I had feared all along; a bad outfit. Its not that the outfit itself was bad, but that the fit just wasn’t quite right. His shirt looked as if it had shrunk in the wash a few too many times, creating a slight belly-top affect. His pants were at least two sizes too small. But he was still quite handsome. I can work with this, I thought.
“So Jeff, why broadcasting?” I asked.
He took a sip on his wine. “So Sadie, why print journalism?”
“Oh, so its like that? Well it stimulates me creatively while also allowing me to express things I never could in any other way. It’s the form my being takes, its all from within.” I said, rather passionately, but its true. I was born writing.
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you going to answer the question?”
“Well I want to be a director, not in the news but film.”
Big surprise.
“Oh really. What kind of films?” I asked.
“Well they would be graphic, one movie I had in mind would be about a woman dying slowly. But it would be played backwards.”
I was silent for a moment. Is this the way men are in the city?
“That’s really interesting,” was the only statement I could force out.
“Yeah some people cant handle it. But I have a nihilist theme to most of my scripts.”
My eyes went wide.
“Jeff, are you a nihilist?” I asked, scared to hear what would come next.
“Of course,” he said.
For those of you who don’t know, nihilism is by definition ‘a philosophical position that argues that existence is without objective meaning, purpose or intrinsic value.’
I’m not into religion, but I still don’t believe that there is no meaning to this existence at all. I need to have more faith than that, otherwise what is the point of going on?
“Well that’s interesting,” I said.

The diary of Sadie Alvarez: Page 6


“It’s the friends you can call up at four a.m. that matter,”
-Marlene Dietrich

“So let me get this straight. You woke me up at two a.m. on a Thursday to tell me your back in town,” Max said taking a dramatic sip if her coffee and pushing her long, red hair off her shoulder.
“Well you showed up, didn’t you?” I said, dipping a french-fry in mayonnaise.
Max is my best girl friend, I’ve known her for years and I knew she would meet me no matter what time I called her.
“So what have you been doing since you came back?” she asked, obviously pissed that I hadn’t called her sooner.
“Well Max, I’ve been busy. I moved, unpacked all my stuff. That took a while. Painted my room. I picked up all my books for school and I, uh, fucked Tom….”
There was an awkward pause.
“You hadn’t even called ME yet, but you’ve already fucked TOM!” Max folded her arms and glared at me.
“Keep your voice down!” I said. “No one wants their club sandwiches with a side of Sadie fucked Tom.”
“So what was it like, how did it happen?” she asked with a smirk on her face.
“I called him up, for you know, just uh..”
“Booty call, yeah I get it,” she chirped. “Go on.”
“It was okay, it wasn’t like the greatest thing ever. He’s trainable, I guess. It will get better,” I said, a little uncomfortably. “It just happened half an hour ago, to be honest.”
“Half an hour ago! You tramp,” Max said laughing. “Well have fun with that, I’m sure it will all work out.”
I love Max to death and I’ve gotta hand it to her, she does always have the confidence that things will all work out. Most times she’s been wrong.
But in the case of Tom she wasn’t wrong. Sex with Tom became better and better over time. He was always reliable, there when I called, never slept over and never ever got emotionally attached. Neither did I because I knew Tom wasn’t the guy for me.
And that’s how I found my booty call, good, reliable ol’ Tom, and for years he’s been just that.
But even though I went into university with this master plan of getting a ‘Tom’ and taking a step back from the dating world, Tom doesn’t even begin to skim the surface of the guys I met while in school.
How can I possibly describe myself now, hard-working-Sadie, without going back to the years that shaped me to become who I am today.
Besides I’ve had three years dating experience in the university world, but only two during my career.
No, for you to fully believe all that I’m going to tell you, I need to start at the beginning.

The diary of Sadie Alvarez: Page 5


“Eighty per cent of success is showing up.”
-Woody Allen

I pull up into the parking lot and kill the engine. After one last glance in the mirror I head towards the front entrance.
“Sade!” I hear from behind me.
I turn to see Tom walking towards me and looking as good as ever. His hair was a little bit longer than I remember and he had grown a short beard. Its scruffy, but I like it.
The break-up must have hit him hard, I thought, as the years go by he looks more and more like a hobo.
I smile and wave.
“Hey Tom!” We hug. Good, got that out of the way. The first hug can be awkward sometimes. Arms up? Arms down? Who knows?
Good hug, good start.
We went in to the bar, which had been turned into this super-modern dance club- a.k.a. not my scene- and sat down at a small table for two off in the corner.
Over a few beers we yelled to each other; over loud trans music, what our lives had been like over the past few years. From what Tom yelled to me I had learned that he took it pretty hard after his break-up with Laura. He had been living on his own since then and had gone back to university to occupy his time. I didn’t really get a straight answer as to what he was taking at school, but I didn’t care. I was here for one reason and one reason only. Plus half the battle is showing up, and I'm already here.
Tom hadn’t really dated much since then, let alone had a girlfriend. Perfect.
“No girlfriend?” I asked. “A guy like you, come on!”
“You know I just don’t want one right now,” he said, looking at me with his gorgeous blue eyes. “I’m just kind of, I don’t know….”
“Coasting,” I said with a smile. “Me too.”
“Do you want to get out of here?” Tom asked. “It’s loud in here and my place is just around the corner.”
“Perfect,” I said.
I follow him to his apartment and park in the visitor parking. He seems a bit nervous and we had just been talking all night. He probably doesn’t know what to expect. I know that it has to be me who breaks the ice.
As he unlocks his door I lean in close to him and kiss him. He wraps one arm around my waist and fumbles with the lock with his free arm. I hear a lock click as the door shoots open and both of us are thrown to the floor of the apartment. Laughing I roll on top of him and kiss him again. He’s not the greatest kisser, I thought, but I can work on that.
Tom kicks the front door closed and everything goes dark.

The diary of Sadie Alvarez: Page 4


"Sex without love is a meaningless experience. But as meaningless experiences go, it's one of the best,"
-Woody Allen


Tom told me to meet him at the old pub we used to work in. He said it had been turned into a new bar and I just had to see how much it changed.
I raced to my room to grab some towels and nearly tripped over my feet on the way.
My roommate must have heard my racket because as soon as I reached my room his bedroom door -which is right beside mine- shot open.
Out stepped my roommate Brian wearing nothing but a pair of badly torn boxers that probably should have been thrown out in 1990. Not that I’m complaining because Brian has a rock-hard body with perfectly chiselled pecks and solid abs that go great with his big blue eyes and head of shaggy blonde hair. He is your stereotypical surfer dude. Gorgeous but dishevelled. Except he’s all country, born and raised.

“Hey Sade, what the fuck are you doing out here? Putting on a Broadway show?”
I grabbed my towels quickly off the rack and turned to him.
“I’m taking a shower,” I said with a smirk on my face.
“Never seen someone get so damn excited over a shower before,” he mumbled and went back into his room.
That’s the great thing about male roommates. They don’t generally ask too many questions. They just mumble something and go back into their rooms.
After showering, shaving, hair and make-up I faced a huge female dilemma. Tom said the bar had been redone. The bar I remembered was a jeans and tank-top sit-down pub with live covers bands and a horrible attempt at an East Coast theme. I had no idea what to wear at this ‘new’ bar.
After a long consultation with my closet –that is much too small for my liking- I go with dark jeans and a black top. The top has a silky sheen to it, but is not too revealing. Dressy, yet casual.
I grab my red purse and matching pashmina and head out of my room.
Both of my roommates were sitting on the couch in the living room watching Sports Centre. Between Sports Centre and the X Box, a girl is lucky if she could catch even five seconds of America’s Next Top Model.
They both looked up at me as I walked into the room.
“Woohoo! Look at you, who are you going out with tonight?” yelled Brian.
“I’m just meeting up with an old friend. No biggie,” I said.
Allen, my other roommate looked at me with a big smile.
“Someone’s gonna have a tie on her door tonight!” he said laughing.
“Oh yeah,” Brian piped in. “And don’t forget to come home early, we’re really anxious to meet him!”
“Shut up both of you. And for your information Allen, if that were the case and I was in fact ‘hooking up tonight,’ I would put a sock on my door. I don’t own any ties,” I said.
“Wanna borrow one?” Allen said and they both burst into fits of laughter.
“Oh yes, please! Just leave one on my bed,” I said as I slipped on my black leather boots. Side not: these boots cost more than thirty dollars, but I bought them as a treat to myself. And to match the leather coat that cost twice as much as the boots.
I threw on my leather jacket and grabbed a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge we had by the front door.
“Oh Sade! Remember to have him shower before and after,” said Brian. “Rinse and repeat Sade, rinse and repeat!”
I laughed out loud.
“You know, I cannot WAIT until the day that one of you gets laid, although I’m not sure if it will ever happen for you two. Goodnight bitches!” I called and walked out the door.

The diary of Sadie Alvarez: Page 3


‘He not busy being born is busy dying,’
-Bob Dylan

Five years ago I was in a loving relationship with the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. He cheated. He lied. He lied about cheating. We broke up, end of story. And I haven’t had a boyfriend since. I’ve dated, had sort of boyfriends and have been in relationship limbo. I even have a ‘booty call,’ although I think I’ve passed the appropriate age to use that expression. My first attempt at a new relationship was with a guy I met through a friend of mine.
Ends up he was also dating a mutual acquaintance of ours named Allison. We both discovered we were seeing the same man when I showed up at a local club with him on my shoulder. It was not a pleasant night.
At the time I was living in a small town on the East Coast. I had taken bartending in college, but I always knew I wanted to write ever since I was a little girl. After my boyfriend and I broke up, he moved out and I found myself (and my cat, Lilly) very alone. And living in an apartment I could no longer afford.
In order to find myself I quit my bar manager job and moved to Ottawa to go to university. Side note: this is not a story about a small town girl moving to the city, I had lived in Ottawa for a few years in my teens and all of my family lives up there.
After moving into a house with two of my wild and eccentric male friends I knew from Ottawa, I decided to take a break from the whole dating scene and focus on school. The only problem was that the idea of not having sex for three years just sounded miserable. I’m human, what can I say? Which is why I acquired my booty call. So I guess I’ll start with him.
He was easy enough to find. All I had to do was think back to all the guys that were interested in me when I lived in the city. The first guy that came to mind was Tom.
When I lived in the city Tom was a friend that I worked with at a local pub. He had a girlfriend of 4 years and I was not so seriously dating one of the bartenders. Classy, I know.
When Tom and his girlfriend broke up, he showed interest in me immediately. But I was having so much fun with my bartender that I never considered him. Then I moved.
So after a few weeks of living in the city again I gave him a call.

Sadie: “Um, hello. Would Tom be there please?”
Tom: “Yeah, this is him.”
Sadie: “Uh, hi Tom, its Sadie…. long time.”
Tom: “Sadie? Sadie Alvarez?”
Sadie: “Uh, yeah. I’m, uh, back in town. In Ottawa. Thought we could do drinks…”
Tom: “Well no shit! Sadie Alvarez! Defiantly, you wanna meet up in an hour or two?”
Done.

The diary of Sadie Alvarez: Page 2


‘From all the boys the one I take home is music.’’
-CSS

And because that I’m writing about this, I feel that I’m some how obligated to introduce myself. Well, my name is Sadie Alvarez. Sadie isn’t short for anything, it is what it is, and I’ve learned to accept that. My mothers Scottish-Irish and quite stylish; my father is Portuguese and not really a part of my life. (First man to ever leave me, but that’s a whole other story).
I graduated from university with a degree in journalism, as well as disgust for it. I never wanted to be a reporter, and over the course of three years I had been groomed for it.
They took my writing style and they stripped it down, and in order to duck for cover from the strong attack of ‘hard news’ that was constantly coming my way, I joined forces with ‘entertainment journalism.’
Frank Zappa once said that ‘Rock journalism is people who can't write interviewing people who can't talk for people who can't read.’ It’s funny- and was probably true back then- but it isn’t necessarily true now. I have read some amazing features. I’ve also written some myself.
I covered rock concerts, stand-up comedians, fashion shows and theatre for the campus paper. I used that part industry to provide me with an outlet where personal style is embraced. I refused to surrender it.
That landed me a promotional writing job at a P.R firm that works with many artists- big and small- in Canada… and a few in the States. But who’s counting. I soon worked my way up to the lower echelon of the publicity department. That’s my nine-to-always-past-5.
Between concerts, fundraisers, awards shows and the always-interesting music festivals, it’s hard to maintain a reliable internal clock. But that’s my life. Music is my boyfriend.
I’m brutally honest, which I get from my wonderfully frank mother, and I am not shy. I’m not the type of person who beats around the bush. I generally don’t talk about people behind their backs, with the two exceptions being A. I don’t know them, but I find them amusing at the time and B. I’m talking to someone else retelling the very statement that I just said to the persons face.
Despite these attributes I am not quick to anger, in fact I’m very laid back. But if I do get angry, look out! I blame that on being a Cancer.
I have a lot of male friends, a handful of close female friends and a couple of gay friends.
They are great mixture of and culture and lifestyle, all of them very unique in how they think and react to the curveballs that life throws at us. And they all ask me the same question. “Why are you still single?”
I KNOW that other girls out there have that exact same question asked to them all the time, by ALL of their friends. It’s infuriating isn’t it? If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that question I’d have a house instead of a two-bedroom apartment bordering on the wrong side of the tracks. Its disgusting really, and completely unnecessary.
So why write about dating? Am I just another angry single woman, looking to profit from my heartache and following some sort of unrealistic Sex and the City fairytale where a small time writer makes it big by broadcasting her sex life to the city and beyond?
I can tell you that I’m not, for many reasons. For one thing, I’m not in my thirties. No disrespect. I’m just not looking to get married anytime soon, or have kids. I’m just coasting.
Also, I’m not exactly upper class. I’m not poor mind you; I have everything I need. I’m not struggling, but I’m not shopping at designer boutiques. Most of my shoes cost less that thirty dollars. I don’t drink colourful cocktails out of frosted martini glasses at the hottest clubs and fuck millionaires. I drink beer. Oh Canada! I drink cheap beer at rock club and apparently I only fuck losers.
But the most important reason why I’m not just another angry single girl is because I’m not angry. THAT I’ve learned to let go of… for the most part. I just feel that the more honest information out there about men and dating the better. As a writer, this is the best way for me to get the things I’ve learned out there.
Regardless of what mainstream media tells us about a single woman in the city, and how her life pans out- over six seasons and a summer blockbuster- the single life isn’t as glamorous as it leads you to believe. But it’s often just as humorous.

The diary of Sadie Alvarez: Page 1


Its not what we carry with us, but what we let go, that defines us.’

I read that quote on my msn messenger list one day, it was a close friends screen name. I wish I could attribute it to someone.
It felt reassuring and frightening at the same time. And not in the thought provoking and metaphorical way that one normally would feel when hearing a line like that.
To me, it wasn’t so much what we carry with us, but who we carry with us -and then let go of- that truly defines who we are and how we change.
And for a single woman of 27, living in a society that has been directly affected by the Baby Boomers time, I’ve let go of quite a few men in MY time. Some infatuating then fleeting while others casual or brief, and I’d hate to think that these often dreary experiences are shaping me into what I am to become. The horror!
Side note: I love you Baby Boomers, I love your era, I wished I’d lived in it… instead of this one.
I’ve had a lot of bad dates. But who hasn’t? I’ve had some relationships that have left me emotionally crippled, powered only by some sort of other motor we have in our bodies that allows me to function at the bear minimum of who I am. Sliding through life in a haze, damaged by what I’ve felt- and sometimes what I’ve done- and feeling nothing at all.
But who hasn’t?
What makes me so different from you? I don’t know, nothing probably.
Except that I’m writing about it.