Tag Archives: real life

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

Why Bitches Be Crazy

We’ve all heard or used the saying “bitches be crazy” and it’s true. Females can be extremely “crazy”. Now, now before you flip out and tell me I’m a bitch for saying females get crazy (which would be a ‘crazy bitch’ thing to do, btw), lets think about this rationally. I will use myself as an example. I have a good family. I have good friends. I have a University degree. I have a happening social life. I’m fortunate enough to be decent looking. I have a good job. I have hobbies. I have a uterus. Therefore, I am crazy and can be a bitch. I don’t know why. I just am.

Merriam-Webster defines crazy as “full of cracks or flaws; crooked, askew, mad, insane; being out of the ordinary; erratic, impractical; unusual; distracted with desire or excitement; infatuated; absurdly fond” and bitch is described as “the female of the dog or some other mammals; a lewd or immoral woman; a malicious, spiteful, or overbearing woman —sometimes used as a generalized term of abuse; something that is extremely difficult, objectionable, or unpleasant”.

Combining any of those terms together is slightly terrifying and doesn’t really encompass what a “crazy bitch” is. So in an attempt for an accurate discription of a “crazy bitch” you can log onto urbandictionary.com and read away. I will make it easy, here’s the link: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=crazy%20bitch

Now that the technical shit is out of the way, lets examine some situations in my life where I was a crazy bitch. Hold on tight for this wild ride people.

A) I once made a fake email address and emailed a bitch my boyfriend slept with, when we were on a ‘break’ (watch Friends and you’ll get it) and pretended to have had met her at a party just to try to get more info on this chick. I did this because I found naked pictures of her on his phone and didn’t believe that they weren’t in contact anymore. I was right. He asked me if I had done this because said stupid hoe chick got a weird email. I played dumb, obviously, and freaked out like a crazy bitch on him for lying to me.

B) I often creep my ex’s ex’s to see what they look like/talk like/do with their spare time. I mean creeeeeep, hard. No necessary reason for this. I don’t tell anyone I do this. I just do it. That’s crazy and stupid and probably severely damaging. I like to see if my ex’s refriend/follow them. Why? I don’t know. I am not crazy enough to do anything about it, except maybe text my ex after a few too many redneck margaritas.

C) I went through a guys phone when he was passed out because I didn’t believe that he wasn’t talking to other girls. He was and it wasn’t platonic. I took the high road and didn’t confront him, as we hadnt had the ‘exclusive’ talk. A week later he then went through my phone and was mad that I had dudes in my phone and asked me to not see anyone else. Shortly after this, he proceeded to sleep with a rando. Is your mind blown by the fuckery of the situation yet? Just wait. How did I find out he slept with said girl? Oh, yes, I saw the text convo he left open on his phone, as he handed it to me, saying he felt like a hooker because she kicked him out. I freaked out like a crazy bitch.

D) I got a late night text from an ex and went there, drunk, and started a ‘serious’ conversation asking him questions that had been on my mind and when I felt he was being shady about the answers lost it and got myself kicked out. Turns out he was lying (a big one) and I found out via creeping and confronted him, like a crazy bitch.

Do we see any patterns here people? Bitches be crazy because dudes be lying fools. If a girl asks you a question, there’s a very good chance she knows the answer or her ‘woman’s intuition’ has kicked in and she’s grasping at straws to justify your behavior. Also, all you men say you hate crazy bitches but why then do you hit me up more when I go straight certifiable on your ass but ignore me when I’m a sweetheart? Riddle me that fellas.

Moral of the post is to continue being your crazy bitch self,  in private. In public smile and nod and then take a crowbar to his shit.

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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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Boyfriend vs. Trampoline

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September 28, 2013 · 2:35 PM

Online Dating Anyone?

As a single member of the 21st century, I’ve dabbled in online dating. By dabble, I mean, I make a profile and keep it for two-four weeks before deleting it… and then re-make a profile a few months later. It’s a vicious cycle.

For the seven people out there who haven’t tried online dating, it’s weird. It’s a phenomenon that confuses me. I get the concept, you write what you think people want to hear, post pictures of yourself doing fun things and looking fabulous while doing said things and hope to catch a mate. Don’t get me wrong, some people find true love on dating websites at least four times a year. However, I’ve had no such luck. Hence, this blog.

I’ve been on and off dating websites for as long as I can remember. I met my last long term boyfriend on a site called Nexopia (I’m not even sure I knew it was a dating website at the time), but it was love at first type and we dated for awhile. So, after that relationship detoured to Breakupsville, I figured I’d give it a whirl again. Man, do I regret this decision.

I tried EHarmony, you know, where you pay a monthly fee to find love. Yeah, you’d think that if someone was willing to pay actual money to find a mate, they’d be pretty serious about it. Nope. I wasn’t, I went on exactly zero dates in three months. This was mainly because everyone I got matched with lived in a different province, or country and I don’t like airplanes, or pen pals. Plus, it’s a seven thousand step process to get to the back and forth communication part of the “courting” process. EHarmony, $134 dollars; Me, zero dates.

I tried Match.com. I actually made a decent profile and then never logged in again. Ever. Match.com, uninteresting and too green; Me, zero dates.

I tried Plenty of Fish (or as I call it, FISH OF PLENTY). I’ve created an account on this site approximately nine times in the last three years. NINE. (My love life is so bumpin). I make the same profile every time, I tweek a few words here and add some random facts there, but mainly I use the same gist (and I’ve got to say, I’m pretty honest about how weird and awkward I am). Then I post six-eight photos (always a head shot with make up on, a head shot with NO make up on, a couple photos of me doing fun activities, and a full body shot dressed up; gotta give the boys a realistic view of my many faces). Anyways, most of my dating history comes from this site. Why? I have no idea, especially when 87% of the messages I receive are “Hey” or “Your gorgeous” (yup, 9 out of 10 times messages are boring or spelled wrong). The best part of POF is that you get actual people soliciting sex from you, or straight up sending you pictures of their schlong. Yet, I always reactivate my profile… Maybe I’m the messed up one? POF, entertaining and free; Me, too many failed dates to count.

In my opinion online dating is like an addiction. You hate it, but you can’t stop. You want to be part of it, but don’t want to admit it. I sort of understand why people use online dating (heck, I’m one of them) but ultimately there is only one thing that matters, chemistry, and ain’t nobody going to find that on a computer screen.

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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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