Tag Archives: no love 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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This is the story of: Doctor

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.

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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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