Welcome to my life

Being the sister of two pretty, smart, fun and charismatic girls has its benefits. For one thing, I get the hand-me-down clothes, the shoes, the silly girly magazines and all the fashion and diet advice a girl could want. We watch stupid girly movies together and when down and out, I know there's someone there to pass the icecream and kleenex over.

Unfortunately, what I find so nice about them, dozens of men out there do too . . . and that's where the trouble starts.

Take for example my eldest sister. She's hilarious, caring, loads of fun, pretty, and a doctor. Problem is, since I was a kid, she's never not had a guy chasing after her.

Be it:
Italian scientists (Adriano, poor sap didn't even speak the same language and before he even had a chance to say "ti amo" was shipped back to Naples)

Gangster G's (he called her from jail using his one phone call)

National badminton champs ("he looked cute in his white shorts. What could I do?")

Dentists (had an unhealthy obsession with my sister and Britney Spears)

Stalkers (kept stalking her, writing obscene e-mails and leaving carnations on our doorstep)

Freaks (carved the word "death" into his arm with a knife when she broke up with him)

or Idiotic Rich boys (can't be named as his parents are involved in an international level business scandal at the moment)

you name it, they've shown up at my door with flowers or chocolates or both.

It's not always bad. It is sort of fun to watch the poor souls squirming in their skin trying to impress the family. Sure, I feel bad for them. It's sort of pathetic when 6 feet tall guys show up on my front porch randomly bawling their eyes out and holding giant bouquets of peach roses. At least we always have fresh flowers in the house. I give up my time, give them a kleenex, ask a quick "you want Joanne or Karen?" and shove them either downstairs or upstairs depending on the answer.

That's all fine. It's just when it starts to impinge on my own personal time and privacy that I get a bit annoyed.

Which brings me to Karen's latest fanclub member.

She broke up with him a few weeks ago and in the typical manner, he's gone through the depression stage (called up all her friends and hinted to them he was going to kill himself), the anger and contempt stage (drove her to Spence diamonds, blew a big hissy fit, showed my sister this ugly ring and said "This WOULD have been your engagement ring . . . but I'm returning it!") and now he's moved nicely on to the DENIAL stage.

Denial goes something like this: "She broke up with me and told me she never wants to marry me but that's just a sign that she still loves me! I think I'll call up her younger sister and see if I can weasel my way back into her life!"

So this afternoon, I was taking a well-deserved nap when suddenly, my phone rings.
Me: "Hello?"
R: "Hi. This is R!"
Me: *WTF?! I thought she broke up with you a month ago* "Uh, Ok. What's uh up?"
R: "I'm in Saskatoon!"

So of course, I'm so befuddled and shocked that when he asks if I'm free tonight to hang out, I say yes.

I'm meeting him in an hour from now. More memories of grown men sobbing their hearts out to me about how one of my sisters is the love of their life come flooding back to me. Sigh. WHY COULDN'T I JUST SAY NO?! More than anything, I would have enjoyed a peaceful night free from sob stories and broken hearted men.

But that's the thing! My sisters' love lives are like train wrecks. It's almost impossible to ignore them and even harder to look away.

Fortunately, I'm well rehearsed for the chat: "It's not you, it's her. She just needs some space right now. She's doing fine. Yes, she said 'break up' not 'break'. No, I can't give you her new e-mail address. Best of luck."

So I guess I better go get ready.

Here's to another lost soul.