Tag Archives: dating

This is the story of: My Online Dates

I began to dabble in online dating again when I moved to Victoria and realized I wasn’t going to meet many people outside of my social circle, since I did nothing but work and hangout with the same thirteen people. So, I made an online dating profile. Although I was full of shame and possessed a feeling that everyone knew I had done this, just by looking at me, I have to admit my profile was  pretty awesome. I laughed as I wrote it. Then I picked some decent pictures and let it all sort itself out. As much as a control freak can, anyways.

I’m pretty particular about how I go about online dating. I look at the main picture prior to even reading the message (shallow, yes; necessary when you get 50+ messages a day, also yes). Once I look at the picture, I open the message, if it’s a “hey” or a “you’re gorgeous”, I ignore it. If the message is fourteen chapters and has a clear beginning, middle and end, I delete it immediately. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Should the message be just the right size and have a little bit of personality, I read it and respond accordingly. So as you read these stories, remember, these were the cream of the online dating crop, so to speak.

A)     Lies About Everything and I planned to meet at a coffee shop after a couple weeks of texting. He seemed cool, collected and a hard worker. All pluses in my books. On the day of said encounter, I walked into the local coffee shop to meet him. Scanning the crowd for a six foot tall, broad shouldered, scruffy faced, toned,  tanned, Brazilian, Soccer playing, stud of a man (as his profile pictures depicted) I was unpleasantly surprised when a stranger walked up to me and said hello. I assumed he was just a rando trying to vie for my attention. Nope. This was my date. A 5’4, wobbly looking, weak jawed, bad face, Mexican man.  I was actually taken aback and probably gasped a laugh, as is my style when shocked I said “you’re not who I’m meeting” and he said “yeah, I am. I look a little different from my pictures, but we get along so well, let’s grab a coffee”. Nope. If you think it’s ok to start a relationship off on lies as big as your face, then you’re doomed to eternity of online dating.

B)      Lispy and I bonded over a mutual love of a canceled tv show. He seemed sensitive and lovely. He picked me up at my house for our first date (yes, I know, it’s a bad idea to let a stranger in your home). It was 5pm on a Saturday though, so still light out, should I need to high tail it up the road, screaming for help. Lispy knocked on the door and I opened it to find a slightly older version of the picture on his dating profile. Not a deal breaker. Then he walked in my house and TOOK OFF HIS SHOES! Umm, hello? I didn’t invite you in for tea. I asked if we were planning on going out and thankfully he got the hint. He took me to… Boston Pizza. At 5pm. On a Saturday. For a first date. I hadn’t really paid attention to much about his voice, except to recognize a very pronounced lisp. I like to think this wouldn’t have been a deal breaker either, that maybe I’m not that shallow. But then he exclaimed “you know the differnth between your houth and my houth ith that you have tho many pictureth and I don’t have anything. I gueth you will have to put thome up for me”. No. Nope. Nope. No. Then when I blank stared at him, he giggled. GIGGLED. For the entire rest of the date, he just giggled. I was home by 6:30 and had enough time to go out with friends for real Saturday night fun. Lispy messaged me the next day asking if he should shave his beard or if I liked the beard. I politely told him I didn’t think it was going to work out between us and I wished him luck in his future endeavours and beard decisions.

C)      The Engineer and I shared messages back and forth online for a VERY long time in the online dating world (three and a half weeks). And these messages were long. It would take me half a day to respond to all the questions and statements. It was going really well, on paper. Engineer was handsome in person and taller than a WNBA players dream. We decided to meet for coffee and upon first sight I was pleasantly surprised… until he spoke. The first thing Engineer said to me was “you changed your hair”. Umm, hi to you too. Yes, I did change my hair. It was about two inches shorter and a tad darker, not a deal breaker when you have an awesome personality like mine. Anyways, the date lasted 45 minutes and then I left and never heard from him again. Until a friend of a friend tried to set me up with him and I guessed who it was within hearing “engineer”. Needless to say, I didn’t meet him, again.

D)     You know those dates that seem to go on forever and you are so excited because they’re just so awesome and you start to imagine more dates that are just as awesome. That’s how Saskatchewan and I were. We started out meeting for coffee and progressed to beers and dinner. It was a solid first date. He wasn’t exactly my style but he was sweet and ambitious. After  a five hour stint of laughing and story sharing, we parted ways. We never talked again. The end.

And that my friends is a little glimpse into my online dating life. There are more stories. Some turned into stories that will span many pages. Some I don’t remember because they were that unimportant. Either way, I learned a lot. I learned that I hate online dating. I learned that the spark and unexplainable, unspoken connection you feel when you meet someone is really important to me, and you can’t find that on a piece of paper or a computer screen. I learned that liking a man’s voice is extremely important. I learned a good first date doesn’t necessarily mean there will be more dates. I learned that I’m not everyone’s type. I learned not to take rejection so hard. I learned that getting along on paper is easy, getting along in person, not so much. #lifelessons

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January 12, 2014 · 11:56 PM

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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This is the story of: Mix CD Guy

Since I was fed up with online dating after my seven seconds online, and wanted to try the trend of offline dating, I told my friends (all two of them in Vancouver) that I wanted to meet new people (aka get a boyfriend) and they actually heard me. I got set up on a blind date by a coworker, we will call this man, Mix CD Guy. First of all, blind dates are always a bad idea, you never know who you’re looking for and there isn’t a carbon copy “tall, blonde, athletic” guy that you can just point out, especially not in a Starbucks.

Mix Cd Guy and I met at a Starbucks in downtown Vancouver. The minute he walked in I new it was going to be horrible. Was he bad looking, you ask? Nope, he was decent enough and had a nice smile. He was wearing an old man jacket and old man jeans. Judgemental, I am.

After we got our coffee, we sat in said coffee shop and chatted. I should have trusted the jacket, and it’s implications, the date was terrible. To begin with, he was SHOCKED and a little too disappointed to find out I was in my mid twenties (“You look so much younger, I would have thought you were 22, but I guess being older isn’t so bad, I can deal with that”, umm ok, you pervy 34 year old, you); he made it very clear that he was “super popular” with the pre-teen kids he teaches (oh yeah, he’s a teacher and soccer instructor, and I wouldn’t let my hypothetical kids around him if he himself was offering up millions of dollars in diamonds and cash); he laughed like a banshee (which I just learned is not a gorilla); and he talked about himself for what seemed like hours, upon hours (in reality it was two hours).

At the end of two hours, when it was clear he was never going to stop talking, ever, I made up an excuse about meeting my roommate. Let me mention that Mix CD Guy kept trying to touch my leg. This is always both awkward and inappropriate, unless I think you’re attractive. Anyways, as I’m getting up and putting on my age appropriate jacket, he puts on his old man jacket and leans forward and goes… “so I assume you like music, so I made you a mix cd” and PULLS A MIX CD OUT OF A HIDDEN POCKET IN HIS OLD MAN JACKET! I legiterally had no idea what to do, so I stuttered a thank you and tried not to laugh directly in his face. He walked me out of the store and pointed South, saying that was his direction, so I said I had to go North and no it would not be necessary to walk me to my fake meeting my roommate. As I turned away, I sent a mass text out to many of my female friends that said “Oh my god, blind date guy made me a mix cd, who the fuck gives a girl a mix cd on a first date. My life”. Sharing is caring after all.

I still have that cd somewhere, it was pretty decent actually. Too bad he turned out to be a weirdo, who found me on facebook and wouldn’t stop poking me. I despise being poked, figuratively and literally. He became one of three people I’ve blocked on that site. The 90’s called, Mix CD Guy, and they want their idea back.

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This is the story of: Shows Up Everywhere

When I lived in Vancouver I was on Plenty of Fish for about seven minutes, long enough for me to get tens of tens of messages and reply back and forth with ONE person a few times, before deactivating my account and cringing at the fact that I had stooped this low.

Please, let’s all remember that I am still “stooping” to this level and yes, I don’t make a mistake once or twice, I like to make it six or seven times, just to be sure. **SIDE BAR: this will become quite evident when we get to the story of Navy Guy** After not going on a single date for my first stint on POF, I moved on and tried to meet people the old fashioned way, through friends.

This is the story of: Shows Up Everywhere

Once I decided I’d had enough of POF (yes, seven minutes in), I decided I would try to reconnect with old friends that I hadn’t seen in awhile. We all know everyone has a token single friend (trust me, I AM that person) and I was certain a few of my friend’s token single friends, probably had single friends too. Yay for my logic. I imagined myself meeting tons of beautiful, kind men and playing ‘eeny, meeny, miny, mo’ to pick my favorite. That didn’t happen. Obviously, it is me after all.

A friend of mine (a male friend, bonus! Since dudes always know tons of dudes that don’t want to sleep with them, unlike female friends, who the hot and/or nice ones always want to sleep with) asked me to meet up for a drink, he was meeting up with some people from school and I was hella in for this potential jackpot of a scenario. We went and met at Earls in Yaletown and as we’re chatting and laughing and I’m making all the right moves aimed at the exactly one decent man in the crowd, in walks a familiar face. Why is he familiar? I don’t know yet.

Approximately fourteen minutes later, after racking my brain for why I would know this blonde haired (and attractive) man, it hits me in the face like a bad smell. It’s Shows Up Everywhere! He is the ONE person I talked to on POF in Vancouver and I disappeared on him, only to run into him less than a week later. As introductions are made, I’m thinking, “holy shit, holy fuck, this is weird” but nope, Shows Up Everywhere doesn’t even blink an eye, he takes it in stride. We chat most of the night and he eventually asks for my number. All the while I’m thinking “man, he sure is playing this up for his friends, he must not want people to know how we met”. (Obviously I had already spilled the beans to my buddy, and texted my roommate because, it’s funny and absolutely my luck and I like to share my misfortunes with others).

After the dinner, Shows Up Everywhere adds me to facebook (we all know and love facebook, don’t we?! Especially for the stalking capabilities). We chat on there, text a bit and then I kind of lose interest, because, well, he’s as boring as watching hay blow in the wind. But this is not the end of Shows Up Everywhere. No siree, I proceed to run into him on a monthly basis for six months. At a night club, at a park, at a beach, in a store, anywhere really and ALL over town. Not just in one part of the city, all the parts. I swear I saw him on the ferry once.

Shows Up Everywhere was the start of my interesting dating life in Vancouver. He opened the door for all my other Vancouver dating experiences, and they only got better from there. (Oh, by better I mean worse and more funny).

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Boyfriend vs. Trampoline

your-e-cards-miltonious-30

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September 28, 2013 · 2:35 PM

This is the story of: Bartender

Everyone gets a nickname. Nobody gets called by their real name until they’ve been around long enough to not run away, or have me run from them (also known as; ignoring all communication until they get the point, and if that doesn’t work, blocking their number). For the sake of not ruining lives and their privacy (and me not getting spammed on facebook) I will only refer to men/boys/man-children by their nicknames. But hey, if you know this guy and see him on the street spit on him, or kick him, or just point and laugh (because not all them deserve to get spit on).

There have been so many short term dates, I’m not even certain I could tell you their last name, or their first for that matter (I would make a vailiant effort though). BUT, don’t count me out just yet, I can tell you their nickname, and the story of how utterly terrible our first date went. Or, in some cases, how the “situation” (as I like to call my dating experiences that last past date three) crashed and burned in a firey mess of tears and vodka.

Because I’m new at this blogging thing, and you’re new to my experiences in this catastrophe we call dating, I will start with a small, simple, life altering experience.

This is the story of: Bartender

Bartender and I met, duh, in a bar that he worked at. He told me he was the manager, but also a bartender. I was drunk and dressed ghetto fabulously (we were at a reggae club after all). We flirted. He was handsome. I was coy. He touched my hand. I asked for singles. He gave me doubles. And then at the end of the night I said, and this is ballsy of me people, I said… “So you going to ask for my number or not?” he said no. True story.

This isn’t the end of the story though. He then stopped, I could actually see the wheels turning in his head, and he said “yes, actually, yes I am. I want that number”. So, I wrote my number out on a chit (that piece of paper that comes out of the machine at the bar… not important) and left the bar. TWO HOURS later he writes me, he comes over, my roommate, Bartender and I sit up for a few hours chatting, he leaves and says “I will call you tomorrow”.

People, he ACTUALLY called me. The. Very. Next. Day. I was floored. Here was this handsome, quiet, and funny man, and he actually called me back. (Remember folks, I am new to the dating scene after four years of domestic bliss, and this isn’t what Cosmo told me to expect). Anyways, he called me. We talked. We flirted. We made plans to walk his dog.

We ended up cancelling the dog walking plans because I went out of town, but Bartender and I proceeded to see each other every Wednesday (when I went to his club) and the odd other night for almost three months. It was casual, but I liked him and he liked me and even pointed out that I had freckles (something I didn’t even realize). Ladies, we all know those cute things win us over. No judging.

Long story longer, I went to his club one night and was chillin with some new “friends”, when one girl asked how I knew Bartender. I replied with “oh, we just met here and chill every so often”. (Keep in mind, I’m playing it cool, I’ve met his friends, gone for dinners, seen him outside of the club scene, text him daily, talk to him on the phone, oh so many things), That’s when this rando replies “sweet, so you must know his fiance”.

YUP. FIANCE. Being the utterly fantastic liar I am (only to strangers though, don’t fret family or friends who are reading this, you know my tell), I reply “no, I haven’t met her, she doesn’t come out very often, work or something” and continue to have a casual chat with her for a few more minutes, before changing the subject and casually sauntering off…

Yes, Bartender turned out to have a long term, live in girlfriend. Not yet engaged, but they probably are by now. I wish them years of happiness and no herpes… at least for her. She is probably a lovely woman.

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Bad Decisions

We all make 'em

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September 28, 2013 · 1:07 AM