Tag Archives: try me

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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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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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

The Beginning of my New Beginning

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?

Me: Nope.

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!

Me: Sure….

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.

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This is Me!

First of all, I should let you all know that I’m just an average Jane. I work a full time job (sales), a part time job (cocktail servant), workout a few times a week (realistically, a few times a month), eat semi-healthily (I love me a grilled cheese), enjoy an active social life (beer pong anyone?), and try to be a decent human being. I also have the good grace to be decent looking. I’ve never had any complaints and often get mistaken for a university student of 23 (booya, my genes are holding strong), even though I am 22 months shy of 30, not that I’m counting or anything.

Second of all, why am I doing this? Well, let me tell you dear reader, I’m doing this because everyone needs to know that they are not alone in this ridiculous dating game called “finding the one”. Plus, you can laugh at me and feel better about your miserable love life (hopefully, yours is full of flowers and shoes and love and laughing and all that shit that I’m jealous of, though).

Third of all, How did I get here? Well, I was perfectly content in my four year relationship until I realized I wasn’t. And let me tell you, when that thought slips into your head it’s like a disease that you can’t get rid of (herpes, for example). Anyways, we obviously broke up (mutually, because I’m a boss like that), and now I’m dating (for over three years, I will add).

Last of all, with all this being said, although my life is like a comedic movie, I love my life. The things that happen in my life belong in a play, or a movie, or a novel, or on a talk show; either way, these are my stories, and it’s my life and it is sassy and shitty as all sin. Sorry not sorry.

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