I have been inspired throughout my life by very strong females, most of them being in my family. My cousin Gig is one of the strongest women I know, and I am blessed to have such a lunatic for a cousin.
No, Gig is not her first name, it is a nickname from her past. Growing up her bother was unable to say her name, and resorted to calling her Gig, it stuck. I still call her this, and nothing else (in fact I get confused about who people are talking about when they ask about her via first name)
The first time I really had my heart broken by a guy, I was eighteen years old, and it felt like the agony would never go away. My cousin, being a few years my senior (let's just say over five years so she will still speak with me) had just split up with her husband (now ex-husband). She was burned emotionally on a larger scale than I, but to me at that time in my life it felt the same.
My heart was broken, and so was hers, and thus we came together. I look back now and realize how strong she really is, in that horrible time in her life to reach out, and look after me. It's amazing. She took me under her wing, and showed me a world I had never imagined.
She showed me, the single life. She showed me what it meant to go out and dance the night away, to live by your own rules, to travel, to be able to manage it all on your own and that growing up, doesn't mean marriage and kids for everyone. It's not that Gig's against marriage, she's just against personally getting married again. When asked why, she says. “Because I'm happy.”
Gig definitely showed me the bar scene, and at the ripe age of 18 (only one year off legal) she took me out to the finest of bars my region has to offer. A sketchy hotel lobby bar I will dub The Loft that holds mainly visiting teams, cougars, and the most colourful randoms you can see this side of the border.
It is known in the area as The Wrinkle Ranch, and it's beautiful. It has a 1985 look to it, full with seating, a tiny hardwood dance floor surrounded by mirrors so you can catch any unwanted oncoming attacks; and a lengthy bar that I have seen someone get thrown across while knocking all hanging glasses off the bar. You can wear sweat pants or an evening gown, biker chaps or a suit, it really doesn't matter as long as you came to drink, dance, and meet up with some random. It's the way of The Loft.
It's a bar where thankfully no one knows you're name, but you are still glad ya came. So, there I stood, heartbroken and underage, marveling at the glory. The night started there, and the party continued for a long time.
My cousin got me smashed, and as the years went forward and I became of legal consumption age, we toured all watering holes within a hundred kilometer radius. Most weekends would involve “pre-drinking” (which I never made sense to call it that, it's drinking) at her house while watching Jackass, male bashing with her insane roommate, then walking to a nearby downtown to pick up, and man bash at the bar. (OK, not so proud of the male bashing, but it helped at that time, and we were all fucking hilarious).
Were we bitter bitches? Yeah kinda. But if you knew all the back stories of dating and love that we share between us, you wouldn't blame us. I know women can be horrible too, but we were sticking with what we knew, “men come and go, family and true friends are forever.”
It is the reason I never make life choices based on a man (ended many a relationship) and the reason I always put myself, friends and family first (that lesson took me awhile). Gig taught me a lot about a way of life I hadn't considered. I blame no one for that, as I grew up in a two parent home (where my parents had a good marriage, as long as no one was bringing up salads or horses walking into bars), and I had assumed I would do the same.
I was a silly romantic when I was growing up, I believed in candle lit dinners, walks on the beach, and the idea of The One. I would picture my wedding day, name my would be children and when I met my first love, assumed he was indeed my soul-mate. What was I to think when him and I were no longer? Gig helped me realize, I had other options.
The romantic in me has long since been snuffed out, and buried deep in an undisclosed location with no chance of revival. That's OK, I get much of my humour from being single. It really is a blessing when I think of the alternative now.
The romantic was also dead, in my good cousin Gig (until recently). Her and I are the drunk people that were at your wedding drinking heavily and laughing at anything we damn well felt like (yes, that means making fun of you).
We are the people at your resort or in your campground, snickering at you when you make kissy faces, and the same ones you hear loudly later on while you are trying to have a moment with your partner. That's us, we enjoy laughing at the rest of you, and no, I'm not sorry.
Bridget Jones Diary solidified any rules or life lessons that Gig passed forward. Wine solves everything in a flash, good friends mean all, and that you may only settle for a guy, if he is of high quality (Colin Firth? Yeah, I think so).
Gig and I have had many traveling adventures, as is a well known and tested fact, that when we are together insanity multiplies. That however, is not where we are in the story yet, for now, we are on bar shenanigans (I get side tracked sorry).
Nights out with an equally “bitter bitch” is a lot of fun. Gig has a fantastic friend that I am surprised she tolerates, who has fallen in love more than a pre teen at a school dance. She lives in the 80s in terms of fashion and hairstyle, and fits right in at the Loft.
We call her White Lighting and she rocks a long bleach blond hairstyle with feathered bangs and outfits consisting mostly of pleather. She lives on finding the one, and has found "the one" several times.
One night out at the Loft, Gig and I ran into White Lighting on a date. She leaned over to tell Gig that "this one was the THE one." Gig, being a few too many Gin and Tonics into the evening, turned to me and smiled.
"Did you hear that?" She said in a drunken no so quiet whisper as we stood next to White Lightening's table. "She found THE ONE."
I smiled and looked over to see if we were being heard when Gig spoke again. "So, is THIS one the ONE? Like this one is the one! The other one's, not the one, but this one, this one is the one."
I laughed for days, and if I see anyone remotely cute around me when I am with Gig, I will always lean in and tell her, I've found the one, this one, is the one.
The insane bar hoping days have long since died, but the adventure with Gig simply improved. In place of random bar shenanigans, we now take it on the road in the format of road trip traveling (aka traveling circus). Sure, there may be a few nights on that trip that include a bar, but the dynamics have changed.
Gig is as clumsy and sarcastic as I am, she plans about as much as I do (which is never) and she's as easy going as my leg hair. Her and I are two dysfunctional peas in a pod.
Gig and I even share similar medical ailments and social blunders, and constantly relay this to the fact we are genetically connected. The thing is, we aren't. Shes adopted (and a nurse). Gig was adopted into this family (oh how I cry for her) but somehow over the years became contaminated with our crazy (or maybe she is just the perfect fit.)
Genetics or not, she is my blood and more than just my cousin, she is one of my best friends.
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