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Every time someone tries to address Canada's alleged self-esteem issues, as many did during the Olympics, it sounds the same: "Oh, Canada, if only you'd brush your hair out of your eyes and put some lipstick on, you'd be just as pretty as the Americans."

And I always feel the same awkwardness and embarrassment for my country, rising sometimes to anger: I like the way Canada looks, thanks. Certainly there are things that I wish were different. But over all, as a nation, we're having an okay hair day. I'm not sure Canada needed the world to say, "Hey, have you lost weight? You look great, Canada!" and send us all rushing off to the mirror again.

We're at our best at our least self-conscious. We're at our best undefined. I reject the myth of Canada's inferiority complex and dislike the nagging demands that we address it.

All through the Olympics, I kept reminding myself, "Don't rain on their Olympic parade, don't rain on their Olympic parade," but then I'd feel my dark-cloud self forming.

My dark-cloud self didn't form because of the money spent, or even the opening ceremonies, although I did wince a bit when I heard that Stephen Harper called them "the best show he'd ever seen." (That must have been quite a blow to Mamma Mia!) I wasn't even bothered by the closing ceremonies, though in retrospect I have wondered where the giant, inflatable, happily married gay couple was - oh, the long arm of Jason Kenney.

I just got tired of being told, repeatedly, that these Games defined us as a nation, or showed the world who we are, or showed us it was all right to win or, worst of all, brought us closer together.

Because they didn't. For most of us, they will have changed nothing, and I'm glad about that. We're fine, thanks.

Yes, I enjoyed the hockey wins. But as I seem to recall, we've won before, and last time I was in a bar and we all jumped up and sang the national anthem and hugged, it didn't change anything. You'd think the breathless commentators touting our new-found patriotism had never heard anyone sing O Canada before.

I don't know where they've been living, but the song gets sung fairly often. It gets sung unasked for by children at Canada Day block parties. It's a good singing song. (So leave it alone, revisionists.)

As for bringing us closer together? The Olympics are about sports, which is fine, but it's not as if we built a railway here, people. The kind of closeness these events engender isn't the lasting kind. It's fantastic, but it is a little bit as if we all went out, got drunk, hugged one another and said, "I love you, man. Yeah, we should totally go camping together this summer," or form a band or whatever. Soon, as a nation, we'll be at that awkward, avoiding-eye-contact-at-the-water-cooler stage.

Canadians aren't an unpatriotic people. We're really quite smug, most of the time. We're just not, dare I say it, Americans. We're more casual about our flag. Unless pushed, we are (and, I hope, will remain) less obsessive about explaining ourselves to the world. One upside of our sense of realism about our country is that our citizens are less prone to sometimes-alarming fits of disenchantment.

I'm glad the Games went well and that people enjoyed themselves. That's what parties are for. Certainly there's something timeless and joyful about athletic feats (in the less-contrived sports) and revellers in the streets. But the whole faux-global-village element of the Olympics feels dated in a connected world. I can't get worked up about it.

There must have been a time when the idea of people from all over the globe gathering in one place, making friends, competing, arguing about the rules, having sex and learning a bit about each other's cultures seemed exotic and idyllic.

But am I amazed when I see it now? Not really. I live here.

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