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Excerpt of “Morose Avenue Adventures” –a childfree lifestyle story

March 3, 2011



The lives of the 16 childfree families living on Morose Avenue are told here from work life to social life to struggles, aspirations and dreams and the wacky fun that comes out of having independence and liberty and free time. In the exclusive childfree neighbourhood nestled in midtown Toronto far from any schools or community centres, life is adult and sophisticated. This is the way these couples choose to live—free and spontaneous.

The tree-lined street was quiet in the early Saturday morning of a warm, crisp May day, the long-awaited Victoria Day weekend leaving everyone feeling relaxed and laidback. The pristine, white-bricked townhouses were set on immaculate green lawns and sparkling asphalt driveways. Verna Young, 33 and her 5 year old Boxer dog Tallulah were jogging along the sidewalk. With her silky black hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her slim muscled body contoured by spandex pants, the realtor was smiling as her head bobbed to a Madonna song on her iPod and her dog trotted beside her. All lean and cut, the all-white pooch had the satisfied brooding eyes of a well-pampered, healthy dog. Verna turned a corner to Bayview Park and disappeared down a dirt path with chirping birds encouraging her along.

“Holy shit! This coffee machine is ridiculously amazing,” boomed Lorenzo Platt in his deep, enthusiastic voice. The 6”2 personal trainer at the celebrated Yorkville Gym had shining blue eyes as he admired his brand-new Faema x63t coffee machine. It was a coveted machine made of vermilion red and stainless steel and a price-tag suitable for an Armani suit. Lorenzo took out two ceramic mugs he made in a pottery class with his long-time Lebanese boyfriend Talal. His buff body gleamed bronze from his recent trip to Morocco, and he accented his muscles in a tight black American Eagle shirt.

Talal, olive skinned with jet black hair and honey brown eyes, raised a sculpted thick eyebrow. He was hardly emotionally moved by the coffee machine. The University of Toronto science geek was studying cancer-detecting breathalysers at the cherry wood study desk in the den, off the open concept kitchen full of stainless steel Black & Decker appliances and black soapstone kitchen island counters. He was wearing black boxers and an army green tank top, cozying up to their 2 cats Jolie and Pitt. The 27 year old was on his second degree and anticipating finishing his masters or joining Omniactive Technologies as a biochemist.

After taking a sip of the Cuzco bean coffee, he smirked, “Hmm, perhaps that machine is worth its high price, Enzo. Now why don’t you come shower with me before heading off to tone off the million-dollar glutes of Toronto’s wealthiest socialites?”

“Oh honey, I’m the one who turns their glutes into million dollar arses,” Lorenzo bragged, flashing sparkling white teeth. “I get them ready for the Oscars, baby.”

Talal rolled his eyes and glanced at his watch. He worked part-time as a pharmacist in Bayview Village, a quick bike ride away. It left Lorenzo with the Toyota Prius they shared, a classy but understated car. He took off his shirt and followed his boyfriend into their steam shower. His body was chiselled like a Roman warrior in pre-Hellenic times. When he stood still, he resembled a modern Ken doll. His perfectly angular and masculine face seemed ethereal, clear azure eyes lined with golden, thick lashes and plump, unforgiving rosy lips fit for a cherub.

Once in the hot shower, warming their bodies instantly, Lorenzo’s eyes lit up like he had just stepped into Holt Renfrew and found an unexpected sale. “I forgot to tell you, we’re flying to New York for Hubert’s birthday party in Greenwich Village on the weekend. I booked last minute tickets on my way home last night. It’s going to be the loft party of the year and I’ll have the pictures posting on Facebook! Danny can eat his heart out.”

“Oh, you’re such a party whore,” Talal admonished his boyfriend playfully, slipping his tongue into his mouth. “Now shut up and kiss me!”


Far from Morose Avenue in Schoneberg, Berlin, lesbian couple Aria Beaumont and her 29 year old partner Ruth were strolling down Yorckstrasse for a coffee at the gay-friendly Cafe Sonne. It was one of the older cafes and the smaller ones built near Rosenplatz and part of the row of shops that contributed to the trendy reputation. Holding hands, they passed fabulous drag queens in baubles and feather boas with magenta lipstick and drawn on eyebrows. Dykes in cargo pants and sandals holding onto the leashes of pugs and bulldogs and flamboyant men with styled hair and flawless skin sauntered on by as if on a red carpet. Street side vendors selling schnitzel were yelling out in German, smiling and handing out food to eager tourists. Outside patios were already packed to the brim as people dined on salads and beer, basking in the glow of warm spring sun.

Aria had her Nikon camera out, a giant grin on her face and sparkling brown eyes hidden behind her Ray Bans. It was her sixth time visiting the great German city, and it felt like home. She knew the shortcuts through the winding streets to Kreuzberg and the boutique department shops in Charlottenburg, where she enjoyed window shopping or picking up a perfume or some silk scarves. The cheese shops in Mitte were must-sees and she felt excitement rippling through her being in waves of anticipation as they waved at the barista who served them every morning that week—Katrina.

“Oh did you see the Reichstag over there? My goodness it’s fabulous—I need to photograph it for my traveling blog,” Aria cried out, nearly jumping up and down. The 25 year old was an interior design major but her passion was photography and she couldn’t get enough of the glass, steel and metal of Berlin. It was the most modern city she could think of—the city of the future. The contemporary shapes of the towers and skyscrapers surpassed anything she had seen in Canada and took her breath away completely. Lucid, clear glass stairs in the U-bahn station and gold-embossed synagogues near Brandenburg kept the city feeling sensational to her. She couldn’t get enough of the many ketchups at Staatsburger, from spicy to green tomato ketchup. Her first impression was: this city has something unique, something special. And she knew she was right.

“We mustn’t stay long, baby. We need to catch the Euro-rail to Italy,” Ruth reminded her partner, her green eyes twinkling in amusement. “Make sure Katrina packs us some biscottis to take on the long ride.”


Aria wasn’t the only design lover on Morose Avenue. Architect and designer Tom Strauss who worked in Liberty Village was just finishing up the decorating job on his home office upstairs using a wasabi green Para paint with a soft sheen finish. The single bachelor couldn’t wait until his dark oak wood office desk arrived—just in time for his housewarming dinner party with designer heavy weights Tony Bradshaw, Carter Stevenson and Grier Josephs. Tom stripped off the last of green painter’s tape and stood back to admire his work of gleaming, even paint. He took a photo with his iPhone and opened the two large bay windows overlooking the ravine in Bayview Park full of gnarling, ancient trees and a bubbling stream.

Nearly skipping down the gleaming winding steps, Tom padded down to the kitchen to take out glass goblets from Pier 1 and his beautiful avant-garde plates. Dinner was ordered sushi and spring rolls and Thai food since cooking wasn’t his forte. Just as he finished folding silver napkins with cutlery his cell rang. He glanced at the caller ID. It was his twin brother Cole who lived in London with his wife Cherry and their four year old Blake.

“Hey, bro, what up?” Tom said amiably, frowning at the white paint chipping off his decorative branches in the living room. “How goes it in farmlands?”

Cole laughed heartily, “I’m just driving back from Home Hardware now. Blake got permanent marker all over the white walls again. It’s not a pretty sight. When are you coming up here to visit Mum?”

“I’m so busy this week with the Trump Towers downtown. It’s just hectic right now and the company wants me to fly in for a meeting in Vancouver—it’ll be a lucrative deal. Perhaps you and Mum can come up to my place? The guest suite is all done up.”

“My family won’t fit in your tiny room,” Cole exclaimed. “Don’t forget, Blake’s birthday is in a couple of weeks.”

“I never forget my nephew’s birthday,” Tom reminded his brother. “Send Cherry my love. I’ll make sure Blake gets a PlayStation, isn’t that what is all the rage for kids nowadays?”

Cole paused, “He’s a bit too young for that, Tom. We don’t even let him watch TV.”

“Oh. Well then. I guess I’ll need to Google something appropriate,” Tom murmured, “I’ll add that to my to-do list on the iPhone. It’s so handy. You should switch from your ancient Nokia walkie talkie.”

“Shut up. Bye, bighead,” Cole said in a warm tone. Tom took a microfiber cloth and dusted off his 46” Sony Bravia TV, wondering if his own mother had barred him from television in his life. What would he do without Glee and 30 Rock? How would he know who the Bachelor gave that last, single rose too? Oh, the horrors. He simply couldn’t imagine life without cozy fleece pyjamas in front of his HDTV with a bowl of cherries. And those last-minute classic movies you found while channel-searching? Priceless. Poor Blake.

He glanced at his white gold watch. It was 4:30pm and he could see his first guests rolling in their Porsche Cayenne. He ran upstairs to change out of his old paint clothes to a pair of black fitted Diesel jeans and a gray Lacoste polo, showing off his lean body and graceful neck. With his soft, wavy chestnut brown hair and straight nose people often commented he looked a lot like a taller Tom Cruise. He gave himself one vain smile in the mirror before rushing off in a cloud of Yves Saint Laurent eau de toilette. The first guest was Grier, a Caribbean born furniture store owner and a big deal in the architectural world.

“Oh my, the crème microsuede sectional sofa!” she chimed in, wearing a silver sequinned short dress that showed off her glowing ebony skin and ever long gams. Her thin, neat dreadlocks were tied up with a pin and drop earrings dressed up her face. “Jealous!”

“It seats ten,” Tom said modestly, “I was in love with the colour. It just really brings in the chocolate and white palette of the room with the cocoa brown accent pillows, no?”

“You’re a design genius. This house is a perfect blend of minimalism and vintage chic,” Grier raved, raising her eyes to admire a black-and-white oil painting of Paris. “It is pure sophistication and everything is streamlined and works so well.”

Just then, Hassan Ali and George Forsythe arrived in dinner jackets and pressed jeans. They paid their compliments, had a glass of Malbec and became part of the din as more guests arrived. Presents piled up in the kitchen from a state-of-the-art juicer to a T-Fal griddle and a lovely bonsai tree. Pavarotti and Andrea Botticelli played quietly in the background from Bose speakers, adding to the mood without distracting. Once the food arrived, everyone found a seat and Tom swiftly changed the music to Lady Gaga and Usher. The back patio was opened and people poured out for a social cigarette and drink. Tom smiled to himself, another party thrown by himself went right.

  1. Carrie Boo permalink

    Heh cool story! Are you going to write more? We NEED more CF stories!

    • Thank you! Yes I will and I’ll post them! =)

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