Archive for the ‘Titillating Tuesday’ Category

Writing is hard work. Dating is hard work. Joining a Nunnery (I imagine) is hard work. Just about everything we do is hard work but that shouldn’t stop us.

There’s no doubt, when I write, I want to dazzle my readers. I want to make them laugh and cry without being sappy, I want to make them think without being too profound, I want to reach them on some level so they go away feeling more than when they started and most of all, I want them to turn page after page and thirst for more. It’s hard work.

It’s also a lot of fun.

When I get into my ‘zone’, whether it is poetry or a story I’m writing, I am entirely in my narrative. Words flow through my body and out my fingertips onto the page or screen. Characters come alive, each with their own look, voice, personality. Dramatic scenes happen organically, erotic or romantic scenes surprise me, sometimes new characters appear from nowhere and become more prominent than imagined.

When lost in my stories or poems, nothing else matters. Thoughts to impress are easily abandoned. It doesn’t matter. I’m in my own dazzling world of fiction, of fantasy, of verse.

Once finished, however, the painful process of editing begins and the demons step out. They only stick around for a while and have an important job to nudge the piece along. They clip frayed edges, remove some of the innards that aren’t working, and give the material a few facelifts. This process can take months, often years, the end result being the initial passion you began with but dusted off and polished.

Yes, writing is like that. Dating…well, maybe more on that next week. 



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I guess over the past months I’ve run out of titillating topics. They all go in my books! So if you want titillating, you’ll have to buy them on Amazon ;-). On another note…

This past weekend was Vancouver Pride. The city became a colourful melting pot of ages and genders and ethnicities. Everyone was happy – as themselves and with others. Music filled the blocked off streets of Davie and Burrard where the celebration was centred. Flamboyant transvestites, butch (and non) lesbians, male lovers wearing tight tees and ball hugging jeans were there, and that’s just a glimpse. 

The best part, however, was that love was in the air. Everyone who attended any part of the weekend festivities was there to support.

Hugging whoever happens to be beside you at the moment, breaking into laughter and song, giving nods of approval and dancing in the street; this is what happens when people abandon inhibitions and feed off the goodness that surrounds them.

Sure there was drinking. There were great eats on the street. But all was in good fun. Nobody broke the mood.

Of course it brings to mind why every day can’t be like this. I know we can’t party every day. I for one would be exhausted. But is it so wrong for men to wear rainbow coloured pantsuits and glittery platform shoes every day if they want to? Is it so wrong for lovers to be lovers without judgement and persecution?

Our small Vancouver world was a better place this past weekend. It felt good (as it has in years past) to be part of the beautiful growing community I call home.

Till next week…continue to have joyous summer days.





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What Goes Around

Posted on: August 1st, 2017 by Madison Lake 2 Comments

It’s been quite some time since I’ve written and posted a blog. I’ve realized one has to stay 100% on track with social media or you can become lax. There are all kinds of reasons to fall off the social media grid; work, travel, relationships. Life in general. It’s definitely a commitment. But I’ve been busy…

Update #1: By now we’ve been exposed to enough ‘life experience’ to not be surprised when things hit us. I did see the red flags but chose to ignore them (again) because he was my friend. Ego is a heavy burden, and for some it seems, ego is difficult to identify in oneself. Talk the talk all you like (and he did), but you have to walk it (and I discovered he didn’t), and you can still be good at your game.

I have no time for people with enlarged egos. Nonetheless, I have to identify why I continue to attract them. Why do I continue to believe these smooth talking guys and why have I made choices along the way to let the good ones go? What is it I’m looking for?

However, happy & single, I roam the pages of my newest book in progress, see what character is going to lead me to the next adventure, and write on. My day job is sucking a lot from my energy reserves, but for now I must put one foot in front of the other – quite literally. I still find solace in revisiting poetry; editing, polishing, writing new work.

Perhaps this is my form of avoidance. I do go out socially with friends, but I should probably join a meet-up group or something, break away from the comfort zone. Maybe next week. Till then, it’s a warm summer day and I intend to enjoy it.

Best, ML  


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Dating = Done

After several friends of mine cajoled me into ‘giving online dating another try’, I succumbed and joined a site called Elite Singles. The name seemed to put out a certain level of class or selectiveness, but who was I kidding?

Of course you sign up for FREE but then you have to pay in order to see anyone’s photo or the details of their profile. Sheesh. What a joke. So, I figured I may as well sign up for three months if I was going to give this the good old college try. Interestingly, very few men posted photos, so that was a waste of money right there (sorry, I do need to see who I am considering dating). The men who did post photos, well…sadly there were slim pickings, or should I say not my idea of ‘elite’.

After several weeks of getting no interest whatsoever, even after I contacted or showed interest in many men, I did begin to communicate with one gentleman several years older than me, who seemed interesting, worldly, smart and was attractive and sporty. Finally we decided to meet for coffee.

I had to work at noon that day so we met near my workplace downtown with plenty of time to chat and enjoy an Americano. It turned out this guy was recently divorced after 32 years of marriage, was dressed smartly enough in jeans and a jean jacket but admitted he was not yet ready to ‘be old’ and was clearly working hard at that. He proceeded to talk about his kids and his ex-wife pretty much the whole time and then threw in a few political opinions that signalled we were coming from quite different places. I politely cut short the meet and greet saying I had some prep work to do before starting my shift. He did walk me to work. That was the end of that.

The other night, a girlfriend of mine and I went to a Scotch whiskey fundraiser for the Writer’s Festival. We had booked our tickets well in advance and were excited to attend something different. It was a splendid affair – lots of tasting tables, delicious food and much to our surprise, a good crowd of mostly men. (of course! men drink whiskey)

After making the rounds, trying a little of just about everything, we bumped into a man who we had seen here and there throughout the evening. He and I seemed to connect and laughed about how we kept seeing each other. We settled at a table and began chatting, which was remarkably easy after drinking Scotch all evening. 

Not wanting to be Negative Nancy here but two things happened that completely put me off. First of all, this man was very amiable, had a great sense of humour and asked questions about both myself and my friend – all plusses so far. I was thinking to myself, hey this could be something. I casually mentioned I was feeling like having another wee dram and he agreed. Soon after he disappeared and returned with not two but one wee dram which he happily sipped himself, completely oblivious to the rest of us at the table. I went and got my own.

By the way, this move has nothing to do with him being a man expected to get a woman a drink, and has everything to do with manners and listening. It was weird.

Soon, my friend said she was ready to go. I didn’t blame her because by that time, the guy was talking more to me and I’m sure she was getting bored. I said I’d join her and we said our goodbyes. As we headed toward the door she asked if I got his number and I said no. “Well, what are you waiting for?” she cried. “Go back and get it.” So I did. I approached him, said I didn’t have any business cards on me but I wanted to leave him my number. He nodded. Then there was silence. I said I didn’t have a pen. More silence. He apparently didn’t either, nor was there a move to get one. I suddenly felt awkward and uncomfortable and left. That was that.

Isn’t there a book and a film called He’s Just Not That Into You

In any case, my trying to date days are really over this time (she says again). If it ‘happens’ then I’m open, but no more profiles or photo sharing or blind coffee dates, although I might be convinced to have a wee dram once in a while.


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I had an interesting experience at work the other day. I know, another work story, but you might find this one interesting.

I was helping a woman with a bra fitting – making sure it fit, to put it plainly. She was an older woman, older than me, clearly monied because she was wearing expensive eyewear, jewelry and had a Gucci handbag. She carried that air of old money.

I was standing in the change-room doorway chatting and accessing the bra she had on, one that I felt was a little ‘large in the cup’ but she loved it, and it did fit. I said ‘that particular make of bra doesn’t work on me but it looks great on you’ and she laughed and said ‘different surgeons’.  

It took me a moment to get it. Oh, right. Implants. She assumed. She figured all women had had surgery to ‘improve’ their breasts. It was then I started to examine her face, neck, even her stomach. Sure. She’d had it all, I realized. But in her case, it looked pretty good. She still looked her age, and she was still attractive. Her skin was wrinkled but tighter, no hanging rooster neck or unnecessary belly fat.

I do not support nor condone men or women who choose to have work done. It is not my place to judge. I do, however, worry.

I have heard young, flawless beauties in their twenties, rub their foreheads and talk about getting botox because of a barely visible beginning of a (line?). We have all seen those who have lost sight of the significant amount of work they have done to their faces and bodies, who are outright scary looking.

I remember going through a phase, probably during the time when my body was shifting from young into not so young, when I resented the women who could afford to get work done. Not because I was jealous. I didn’t want any part of it. But it upped the ante for the rest of us. Suddenly there were all these women with larger, firmer breasts, taut necks, flatter stomachs. How could we ‘regulars’ compete? And being single made things worse because men generally go for younger, and either don’t know the difference when a woman has had work done, or don’t care.

But I got over it.

There are many ways in which my body has changed since I was twenty and thirty, and it has taken some time to come to terms with these changes. Perhaps I’m fortunate enough to have naturally good skin. I stay active, keep my muscles toned and keep myself relatively fit.

Or perhaps I’m fortunate enough to finally be happy with my body and myself just the way I am.


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