Tag Archives: dating life

Reason’s to Date Me

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Things I wish I could tell people about myself IMMEDIATELY when meeting them (in no particular order):

1) I’m a really good back scratcher
2) I’m sarcastic and bitchy and admit when I’m being crazy (I’m also a nice person…)
3) I smell good ALL the time
4) I am a good fake (and real) listener
5) I am better at beer pong when I’m drunk
6) I encourage out of town weekends for you and the boys (no hookers though)
7) I’ll probably be cute until I’m dead
8) I have lots of hobbies and friends, so I don’t need to be constantly entertained
9) I fuckin love cuddling
10) I can quote most funny movies (Anchorman anyone?)
11) I will do sweet things for you, just because
12) Your parents will love me, as will your friends (and they may opt to keep me instead of you should we ever part ways)
13) I laugh at my own jokes, even when other people don’t
14) I can cook and eat (like a boss)
15) I will never do anything to intentionally hurt you, the thought hurts my heart
16) I like dogs and kids
17) I like you to make the decisions
18) If you don’t work out as much as or more than me, we will have a problem
19) I have no hidden talents
20) If I like you, nothing will change that. Nothing, no one, no situation… unless you poop in a weird place, are mean to old people or animals, get violent or twitchy… you get the idea.

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Way Back Whenesday

My first real boyfriend in adulthood started out like any relationship when you’re 19… We met at a party and made out at, like, the seven following parties and then started “seeing” each other. This basically meant we started hanging out in day light hours and held hands in public and didn’t pretend to leave parties seperately. It was awesome. We did this for an entire Summer. Hanging out, making out, fishing,  camping, tubing, laughing, sexing, dates, road trips, sleepovers when we could sneak them in (we both lived with our parents), all the best things that come with the start of a relationship in Summer. When Summer finally ended and I packed up to move back to Victoria he surprised me by asking me to be his girlfriend. I said yes, after all he was 6 feet 4 inches of small town, good lookin, fun time muscle.

Sounds too idealic to be true, right! Yup, you would be right. When I left town and moved back to Victoria, he had a couple more weeks until he had to leave for his season home base, so he visited often. It was magic, as only first love can be. However, what you’re thinking is “season home base? What is that?”. Well, when you’re a semi pro hockey player, you don’t necessarily live where your girlfriend lives. First Love left and went across the country. We continued to date. Gor 2 years. On and off of course. Because he was a hockey player after all. And what they say about hockey players is true.

Not to dampen anyones spirits but here are my top 3 shitty things First Love did (and yes, I have put them in order) and yes they are terrible and devastating:

3) One dark and rainy (so I like to believe) night he would not answer his phone. At all. And I called at least a dozen times. We had fought (per usual) and he took a bottle of gin and ignored me. I do not take well to being ignores. Hence, the outrageous number of phone calls. Finally I made contact… with his roommate, only to tell me that he was “occupied”. I was naive, but now I know what occupied meant. He was not in the bathroom at 3am, or sleeping, or in a meeting, or any other logical reason that would render him incapable of answering his own phone . Its sad to say I only figured this out when I saw the naked pictures of a cheerleader on his phone. Bazinga!

2) First Love was fond of breaking up with me on MSN Messenger (so I wouldn’t necessarily get the messages right away – remember, texting wasn’t cool this long ago and landlines were the main form of communication) and then reconnecting with me a few days later with a sappy email/phone call/song. It only took me three breakups to realize they always fell on weekends his team was traveling.  At least he had the decency to ‘breakup’ with me before mattress dancing with puck sluts (my assumption on the morals of these girls was never proven).

And the #1 all time terrible thing First Love ever did was… drum roll please…

First Love and I took a break a few days before Christmas (he had to stay out East and all the breaking up was really getting in the way of the spirit of Christmas). We talked every couple days and always ended the conversation with “I love you”. Since he called me on Christmas, I thought I would call him on New Years Eve. Bad idea! Since he was 3 hours ahead of me I called him at 11 o’clock my time, just in time to get him before he hit the hay after the bar. Look at me being all thoughtful and shit. The conversation went like this:

Me: Happy New Years!  Did you have a blast?!
Him: Yup. I want you to talk to someone.
Me: Who?! (At this point I assumed it was a teammate, I often spoke with the boys when I calles)
Some Bitch: Who is this? (Muffled whispers to First Love, ‘who is it babe’)
Me: Umm, it’s his girlfriend (I know, we were on a break but details don’t matter to drunk people)
Some Bitch: What? I’m his girl now. *click*

Me, being naive, assumed it was a joke, so called back and the conversation continued as follows:

Him: What? Didn’t want to talk to the chick I’m gonna f*ck?
Me: Excuse me? This is a joke, right?
(In the background Some Bitch is begging First Love to take her home, I can still hear it to this day. He mumbles to her “one minute, just dealing with her”)
Him: I’ve got to go, I need to f*ck this girl
Me: You f*cking prick. Never talk to me again. *click*

I hung up my cell, started crying (at 11:30pm on New Years) and then sucked it up and partied for a bit… I ended up in pajamas with a pizza by 1am, which is kind of stellar. And only talked to First Love on two occasions after that: when he called to apologize because his cousin told him what he did to me (yup, kid was too drunk to even remember talking to me) and when I saw him randomly at a gathering. What lesson did I learn? Never call a man on a holiday.

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Good Advice…

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I’ve acted in all these ways when angry with a man (except 5; yeah, I’ve contemplated it, but I wouldn’t survive in jail. I’d be made a bitch for sure and I only like to braid my friends hair. Plus, I’ve seen Orange is the New Black, so, nooo thank you). No wonder no one actually knows when a woman is mad… so many signals.

Hint, if you feel like you may have possibly done something wrong just say you’re sorry and tell us we’re pretty. Works like a charm. Unless you KNOW you did a wrong…. then, diamonds and vacations work.

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Friday Night Fun

Fast forward to the present day and you will find me, still fabulous, still funny, and still soul wrenchingly single. The single life is great, I won’t mess with you. Doing whatever I want, whenever I want is pretty amazing. Except for when what I really want to do is lay on the couch with a man who is in lottle with me, start a new season of some crap show (I hear Orange is the New Black is pretty decent), and have my hair played with. Those are the kinds of things that you don’t get to do when you’re single. (I just pictured myself wrapped up with one of those ‘boyfriend’ pillows watching tv while playing with my own hair. Please laugh with me, not at me. Should I ever sink to this level, I will cry and someone slap me, please).

I know today’s date shows up on these posts, but just because I feel I need to be dramatic… It’s a foggy Friday night, in the middle of October. Did I go out dancing with the girls? Nope. Did I carve pumpkins with a boy and watch scary movies? HA! Did I take in comedy night at Hecklers? Nein. Did I volunteer at the SPCA and play with puppies all night? I wish! Did I drink wine and read a good book while listening to jazz music? Not even close. I ate an entire small Veggie Mediterranean pizza with two dippers to myself. While watching Law & Order: SVU. #winning. None of those three things separately bother me. Friday, awesome; Pizza, super awesome; and if you don’t like Law & Order: SVU you’re lying to yourself. But combined, they make me feel like I should rescue a cat or seven.

I’m not lonely, and rarely am I ‘alone’. I don’t get much down time, working seventy-ish hours a week, so when I do and end up watching tv (on a laptop because I don’t have cable), in flamingo print pajamas, eating 3.2 pounds of pizza (I weighed myself before and after) for six hours, a girl starts to wonder about herself.

All of us poor single folk get the “single funk” every now and again. Don’t pretend you don’t know what this is. For anyone who is lying to themselves or who has been in a relationship too long to remember: this is when we hate being single and curse the opposite sex, ourselves, our parents, our city, the weatherman, that dog that didn’t lick your hand because he clearly smelled your desperation, or basically anyone or anything that is in our way. I, thankfully, haven’t had a moment like this in a while. I hope I’m not due. They never go well and I definitely always write an ex or two. Yay me! (That was sarcasm).

Tonight is not the night for me to have a single person funk. I love life. I love that I get to go to bed and fall asleep in the middle of my bed; I love that I ate an entire pizza and didn’t have to share; I love that I don’t have to worry what my breath will smell like in the morning; I love that should I have an insomnia attack in a few hours, I don’t have to worry about waking anyone up with the lights on; I love that tomorrow, when I finally wake up (on my own schedule), I get to do whatever the eff bomb I want to (until my PT appointment at noon, then that meathead gets to boss me around). I think the important thing is that I love MY life… I just hate dating.

Lesson’s learned tonight: Munch retired , you will gain over three pounds from eating an entire small pizza, my pajamas are too big (in spite of said pizza eating), I can go an entire Friday without wearing a bra or drinking alcohol, there is such a thing as the ‘boyfriend’ pillow (see below), and it is completely possible to be in bed before midnight on a Friday.

 

The-boyfriend-pillow

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Way Back Whenesday

Oh stories. This story is about a boy I never dated. He probably dated me though. That’s the kind of story this is. I don’t have a nickname for him, because well, we never dated. We will call him Nintendo Boy, because I feel like it is fitting. 

Nintendo Boy and I worked together (at, surprise, the same electronics store I worked with Fat Not Fat at). Nintendo Boy and I got along real well. He was funny, self deprecating and gay (or so I thought). He had great work ethic (read, he always covered for me) and always helped me when any sort of electronic device I had broke. He was a hacker of sorts and a genius with electronics. 

One day my roommate was a whoreibble person and gave me three days notice on moving out of our place. I NEEDED a roommate, I was spending all my money on alcohol and more alcohol that I was eating ramen noodles for breakfast, lunch and supper. I was a real winner when I was 19, no judgement because we’ve all lived off of bread and noodles at one time or another. Priorities. So I clearly couldn’t afford rent on my own and I was stuck in Victoria for another two months while I went to University. Nintendo Boy heard of my woes and offered to move in.

And move in he did. He brought his 15+ pound cat, his bunk bed, his four tv’s, his lazer collection, his star wars and star trek collections, he brought more movies than I have books (which is a lot) and he brought an awesome kettle. Everything went great for about thirteen days. Nintendo Boy stated making comments about me inviting my hot friends over to sun tan on the deck so he could tell all of his friends that there are naked girls in his apartment. This alone I could have dealt with. What I didn’t deal with is a love letter.

Just a little info, I had recently broken up with (been cheated on and humiliated by my first love) a few weeks after my See You Next Tuesday of a roommate moved out and Nintendo Boy moved in. Being on the averagely mature side of 19, one night I brought home a male friend that I had been seeing. This part isn’t not true, I saw him. I saw him at parties. I saw him at his hockey games. I saw him in the mall once. Anyways, he came over while Nintendo Boy was sleeping. Rich and Handsome and I hung out, chilled, bow chicka wow wow, and then went to sleep. I woke up the next day and went to get some hydration and saw a note on my door. I took it down and walked with it to the kitchen where I read it.

Nintendo Boy confessed his undying love for me. He even said he would make me his princess if I would consider him as a possibility. Talk about awkward. I thought the kid was gay and let him take saucy pictures of me for my ex. Needless to say I forgot about getting water and ran back to my bedroom and began packing. I already knew I was leaving in three weeks but I packed so fast and dropped all my shifts for two weeks and moved home without even acknowledging the letter. I think I managed to avoid Nintendo Boy in our apartment and at work even. I’m not proud of the way I handled his one sided love but can’t get stuck on the past. Plus, he got a new roommate and has a girlfriend now and is super successful. He won that one. 

 

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Way Back Whenesday

I’ve had a few requests for “throwback” dating stories. By throwback, I mean long before D and the googling incident. These stories consist of my dating scaries and stories from before my “long term” boyfriend. These ones are old, like my unfertilized eggs.

Fat Not Fat and I worked together. Kind of. I worked  for an electronics company and as such, you would imagine there would be no attractive people. But there were. Myself and a couple girl friends of mine were the exceptions to the ‘no hot girls work in electronics’ hype and there were even some good looking male specimens (the really odd ducks were my favorite though, I learned so much about shit I don’t care about there). I’d worked at this establishment for a while when Fat Not Fat got hired. He was a nice looking fellow. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, he was funny and quick witted (if not a little dim in other areas of life), just my style at the time.

Fat Not Fat was friends with someone who I worked with. I actually have no idea who this person was, as the memory is that old. I think it was a dude, may have been a girl, or talking dog… but the  memory of Fat Not Fat, and the conversation that follows is as clear as breakfast this morning (coffee and a vitamin B supplement). One day said unknown coworker said “hey, Fat Not Fat thinks you’re hot and wants to ask you out” and I replied (in front of the entire staff room full of lunch eaters) “eww, no he’s fat”. Tact was not a strong suit of mine and I was really shallow then (shut up). Everyone stopped eating and stared at me. One of my good friends was in the room at the time and can attest to this… the response I got was “he’s not fat, he’s got huge muscles.” Turns out, that was a fact. And Fat Not Fat heard about what I said and still wanted to hang out with me. So we hung out. It wasn’t great, it wasn’t terrible. We hung out mainly in a group of other coworkers, drinking and dancing. It was a typical 19 year old style of dating.  The moral of the story is, not everyone who looks fat, is fat. The shirt may be unflattering and hiding large biceps. The end.

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