I am the only one left on the face of the planet without a cell phone.

I had one once, but then I realized that Rogers owned my soul and my credit record. It was a relationship that ended really badly, I’m still reeling from the effects.

Generally though, when it comes to communication I am a few years behind. Furthermore, with the recent departure of my upstairs neighbours to more affordable pastures, the gap between my personal communication outlets and that of the current trend has widened. For almost a year now, I have been mooching off of a wireless network that I believed to be emanating from the apartment above mine. “Jeff and Lisa” (as the network was called) had no idea that I was downloading gigabytes of music nightly while they footed the bill. However, this week, “Jeff and Lisa” moved to Parkdale and with them went my internet. Now the normal course of action would be to contact Bell or Rogers and suck it up and get a network of my own. However, I refuse to support the Bell barons, and well, given my “history” with Rogers, I now find myself feeling around in the dark, thrust back to 1994. Does anyone even remember what computers were like before internet? Glorified calculators really.

I’m trying to find the charm in my situation though. I write this from a trendy café on College Street. I admit, I got a little “gussied up” to come out here. Long gone are the comforts of surfing the net and blog stalking in my underwear. I realize that posting here now means that I will subject myself to the same ritual I subject myself on any given weekend. Makeup, hair, outfit carefully selected – I’m going out in public afterall. However, it’s hot out and this café is sweaty. My carefully applied makeup is streaming down my face and I’m starting to form pit stains on my American Apparel shirt.

I’m starting to feel less like the romantic lone writer enjoying a glass of Pinot by herself on a Wednesday night in Little Italy and more like the loner wannabe trendoid who’s friend’s are all out at art shows, free concerts, or cottages leading much more exciting lives. I think people are starting to either feel sorry for me or make fun of me.