Great Wolf Lodge: Being Single in These Trying Times

Not sure if you could check into Great Wolf Lodge by accident, but I'd certainly count it as one if you were single - like I am. I can't help but wonder if there's even one more single person staying in the lodge right now. How do you even get here without a ring on your finger and a little cutie-patootie in a pink swimming suit in tow? Or blue swimming trunks. Or waterproof diapers. Or whatever.

There are some 400 suites in the resort, so it is statistically likely that at least some of them contain single people. Single friends. Single moms. Single dads. Single aunties and uncles, perhaps? Third wheels who end up being pillars of support to tired moms and dads ecstatic to be on vacation but equally eager to catch a water slide ride by themselves and not carry the whole 30 pounds of toddler around all the time. Why else come with anyone but your spouse and children?

That's approximately how I feel about my brother and his lovely wife bringing me along. Three adults per one child is the minimum requirement for all involved to have some fun at Great Wolf Lodge - taking turns at fun, perhaps, but fun. Watch the little angel shoot a water gun at other babies while the parents soak in the hot tub; switch places; cannonball down a giant vortex thing; rinse; repeat.

I am genuinely, painfully curious if any single people are present here. I'd like to hang out. Any non-parent with enough patience to be here is someone I'd probably share a beer with. Preferably in a bar. Wouldn't it be nice to have an actual place for adults to go to to have said beer or a glass of wine? But alas - no nightlife at Great Wolf Lodge after hours!

Oh the after hours. The waterpark is shut, the arcade is winding down, all "restaurants" are closed. Kiddies are in bed, exhausted from the day of mayhem, all that splashing and squealing (weeeeeeee!). Dead silence falls all around. The after hours begins... at 9:30 pm or so.

What's a single girl to do?

Well, spoiler alert: nothing really. There is nothing for me to do at Great Wolf Lodge after 9 pm apart from drinking in the room. A bottle of Rioja Reserva 2010 is nice, but boring.

Some friendly company right about now would be so awesome. Someone who isn't already asleep. (Or married.) Since I bet there are some (see above), we could have a nightcap together, if only there was a place for us to go. Not that I'm asking for drunken debauchery opportunities. Just a meeting place.

I like the vibe of Great Wolf Lodge, I really do. The family-friendly theme is valid and exciting. It's great fun with my nephew. But it's also thoroughly nuclear family-oriented and I feel I have no place here, being single and all, unless I leave after the waterpark closes and everyone settles for Storytime.

Maybe I should just take this opportunity to go to bed early myself. That's a rare luxury these days, is it not?

Eyes down, soldier

Back in Canada I am indeed. (Also, Yoda.) This clearly isn't Europe anymore, for many obvious reasons, and one of them bugs me the most: men don't look at women here. Stealing glances and immediately averting one's eyes happens, but ogling and gazing, admiringly or lasciviously or otherwise, doesn't.
I'll be the first to admit that I like when men look at me. I don't find it offensive or obscene, and as long as they don't do anything intrusive or aggressive, I for the most part enjoy the attention I get. And in Spain I get a lot of it. I like it not only because it strokes my ego, but also because, to me, people who are not afraid to openly admire a beautiful woman (me in that case) clearly allow themselves to enjoy little things more and are having more day-to-day fun, and I'm happy for them.
On the other hand, I'm not happy for human contact-deprived Canadians, who are poisoned by steady pressure to be PC and are constantly scared of sexual harassment. I actually don't know if these are the main reasons why men here don't look at women, but it's in the culture for sure. (The sociologist in me has just died a little.)
Point is, I never thought that I would physically feel the absence of others looking. Right after I landed at YYZ, I could tell something was off, but only understood what it was when we stopped by a store to get some groceries. The feeling of being looked over and gazed at was gone so completely that I felt it, and I didn't like it. Again, not because of my vanity, but because, well... Why wouldn't men look? Why do they look in Barcelona, but not in Toronto?
That's sort of a rhetorical question, unfortunately.