I do this exact facial expression/hand motion combo when asked “why/how are you still single”. I manage to look only marginally less cute than this small human, too. So, why am I single you ask? Beats me asshole, I’m picky.
Tag Archives: love life
Doctor. Now, this story sounds like it would be promising, considering I met a Doctor… but… it’s me. We met at a night club. Yup, is anyone else sensing a theme with this phase of my life? It didn’t matter if I was dead exhausted, sick, crampy, or injured, you mention the words “night club” and my response was “yes, please” as I held out my cup to be filled with vodka. Anyways, I was at one of my favorite places in Vancouver and (this is all a bit hazy in my own mind, but I got the details from Doctor and my girl friends) I was walking down the stairs from the upper dance floor to the lower and was ‘beckoned’ to by a handsome man. He asked my name, I told him Mercedes (because ain’t nobody giving out their real name at a night club to a posse of men), he asked my number, I gave him a fake. He immediately texted me and asked me to check my phone. Caught. After we laughed about it and he assured me he was a nice man, I gave him my real name (not even close to Mercedes) and number and then danced away in the crowd to drink vodka waters and shake my hips to some music.
I heard from Doctor the next day (men in Vancouver seem to be rather keen on the contacting front, which is more than fine by me). We made a plan to go out for drinks (after swapping facebook information, I needed to refresh my memory after all the vodka). He picked me up at my ‘house’ (in reality it was a block over and down from my house, can’t be too safe people!) and he was in a Lexus. Excuse me!? We made small talk on our way to some Russian vodka pub (turns out he’s Russian and reallllly likes the Vodka, if you can pick up where I’m going with this, good for you). We went to this pub and had a drink and small talk. All was good , except his weird ass accent. Then we went to another pub where he plays guitar sometimes. So here I am on a date with a DOCTOR who PLAYS THE GUITAR and I’m kind of proud of drunk me, she’s really redeeming herself to sober me. *Side bar: Drunk me had made out with a dude with a massive unibrow quite recently before this* Doctor and I have another drink, then he has another, and another, and yet, another. Then he gets up to play another tune on the ole guitar (one he wrote, nbd) and he chips his tooth on the microphone. No lie. Chips his mother effin front tooth because he is so wastey pants. I would give him props for finishing the song, but he didn`t know he chipped his tooth until I pointed it out. To say the least, I got in a cab and went home. Doctor and I texted a bit for a while after that (I had to make sure he got his tooth fixed). After the appropriate amount of time I stopped responding to his texts.
To end this story, I will let you all know that Doctor texted me on my birthday (five months after we initially met), so he gets props for that (I’m choosing to view it as sweet and not creepy). I still think of him every time I think of the disease that killed Bob Marley.
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.
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).
Where to start, where to start? I feel like before diving into the absurd dating stories I have, I should start off with a lovely tale of two people and how they came to end their relationship.
D and I had been together for darn near four years when I told him we needed to “talk”. Anyone who has ever been in a relationship knows that these are the words that you NEVER want to hear. No one says “we need to talk” and then asks what you want for dinner, or if you’d like to take a trip to Mexico. No, these words are always followed by a serious relationship talk. So talk is what we did.
Our talk went lovely. We agreed we were content but weren’t passionate or supremely happy, like all the truly in love couples on tv are. So we decided to give it a couple of days and think it through and then work on making a decision. We were so very adult about it.
Anyways, the day after we had our “talk” I came home from work and found D already home, not an unusual occurrence, but he had the look of a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. This is the conversation that followed:
Me: What did you do?
D: Nothing. Why?
Me: You did something. Tell me.
D:…….. I broke the computer.
Me: What? How? Were you looking at porn? Because if you were looking at porn then you definitely had enough time to start dinner
*Remember we had been together four years, this type of conversation was normal*
D: I wasn’t looking at porn. I’m not telling you what I did. But the computer has about 300 viruses, so I turned it off. It’s broken.
Me: It was porn.
*At this point I went about making dinner and we left the conversation alone, until I served up a lovely meal of halibut, rice and roasted veggies*
Me: For real, tell me what you did.
D: No… Promise you won’t get mad?
D: Ok, but promise you won’t laugh?
Me: If I won’t promise I won’t get mad then why would I promise not to laugh?
D: *says nothing, just stares at me*
Me: Ok, just tell me. Was it gross porn?
D: IT WASN’T PORN!
D: I was googling “Mutual Breakups” to see how I should feel about our situation
Me: *stunned silence* followed immediately by laughter.
D: You promised you wouldn’t laugh
Me: No I didn’t. Eat your dinner.
And that was when we both realized that even though we went through the motions of making it work in the previous months, that we would never be together in the long run, because we were best friends, but no longer in love. This was still my best break up to date.