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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: The Child

While living in Vancouver, I was traveling over to the island frequently. Not only because I missed my friends, I was seeing a guy over here for about a month, oh and was in a wedding, so had all that shit to do. Anyways, this is not a story about the guy I was seeing (you will hear about him in a Way Back Whenesday story). This is the story of The Child. I met The Child the night before Canada Day. I had come over to Victoria to hang out with friends, drink beer, eat burgers, watch the fireworks and play. That didn’t happen. Well, it did, only it was drink-a-litre-and-a half-of-wine-and-stumble-into-town-and-lie-about-your-entire-life kind of trip. I’m a real class act.

Two of my girlfriends and I headed into town (to Darcy’s of course – shameless plug, Darcy’s is the tits, the bee’s knees, the cheese to by bread, the vodka to my water, if you’re ever in Victoria check it out). I went down town all kinds of dressed up (short skirt, mesh top, long fake ass extensions cascading down my back, a real sight for sore eyes, if I do say so myself). I was super wasted. Like, white girl wasted, when said white girl was in high school and doing shots of straight Bacardi, chased by a sip from a two litre of Pepsi. That kind of night. I had a great time. Or so it seems from the photos.

The next day (Canada Day, remember) was not such a great day. I laid in my friend (and her bfs) bed allllll day, until I moved to the couch where I remained for most of the day light hours, while they drank beer, ate burgers, played games, etc.  Early on in the day, while I’m contemplating how I’m ever going to survive this hangover, my blackberry bings with a message (at 9am for fucks sake). Some random dude standing next to the Darth Vadar fiddler asks me how I am. Da Fuq? I yell out to my home girl “who the fuck did I meet last night!?”, then I barfed. According to my friend, I met a handsome, tall, 22 year old `Olympic lifter` and we really hit it off. My girl has high standards and a stronger liver than I, so I took her word for it and chatted with The Child.

I know you’re thinking it’s pretty bad that this guy is 22 and I’m 26… turns out I told him I was 24… and a teacher. I found this out when he asked me when school started and I lol’d and told him I graduated university many moons ago. This brought up a whole conversation about how I lied about my age and my occupation (and probably my name in the beginning… I always go in with a fake name, you’ve gotta earn the real name people). Anyhoo, The Child and I bbm back and forth for a couple weeks, never adding each other to Facebook (I’ve learned this is always a red flag) but Skyping when his roommates were out. Turns out… when he said roommates, he meant parents. And when he said 24 he meant 19. As in, just turned 19 a few days before I met him. By the time I found out about The Child and his situation (unable to drink in the US, or pay rent on his own, as he had no real job) we’d been talking for over a month. I thought I could maybe try to hang out with him and it would be fine. It wasn’t. It really, really, wasn’t. When we first hung out and he said “my parents are out if you’d like to come over?” I cringed. Then he admitted he rarely if at all drank. Then his 19 year old slang came out for show, and I hate slang. But what really shut the nursery door for me was when we hung out the second time (yes, I gave it more than one try… look at me being stupid and shit) I actually asked “do your parents know you’re out this late?”. We looked at each other… I cringed. He smiled. I told him I was tired. He asked if he could stay. I said I had to be up early. He drove home (in his Mom’s car). I cringed, again. He wrote me the next day. And the next. And the next. I finally told him I was ignoring him and that we were never going to happen. Then I ran into him a couple weeks later and did the awkward turn around and duck maneuver. And that was the end of The Child. I think he has graduated high school by now and is probably traveling on Mommy and Daddy’s dollar. Oh well, he had biceps for days.

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Why, You Ask?

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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.

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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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Boyfriend vs. Trampoline

your-e-cards-miltonious-30

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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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Bad Decisions

We all make 'em

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September 28, 2013 · 1:07 AM