Ghosting Mr. Heeeeeeyyyyyy

Heeeeyyyyyyyyy! I'm back. If you're just tuning in, start from the beginning: Part 1

Having activated Ghost plans on the Saturday, I was able to move through Sunday, uneventfully.

Then Monday came. F*king Mondays.

I get this text:

Heyy how are you feeling

No answer. Ghosts don't answer texts. Tuesday:

Heyyy

I think he might be concerned, because the Y's are increasing. So, against my better judgment, I asked some of my friends what I should do. Keeping in mind that the majority of them have not been on a date in years. Several of them said I should send him a really nice, "I'm dumping you," message. Yes, because those worked out so well for me with The Hobbit. Others, suggested that I continue strong with the Ghost strategy and one very useless friend (she knows who she is) suggested that I tell him, "I like horses." I don't know if it's bad that my problem with the excuse wasn't that it was ridiculous; it was the fear that he might see me in the street one day and tell everyone within earshot that I was the girl who preferred bestiality to men... and that I might be stoned.

I joked with a friend that the more annoyed/concerned he got, the more Y's there would be in his heyyyyyyy. Probably gonna be 4 Y's tomorrow. Wednesday:

Heyyyy

I decided that ghosting wasn't working and that I needed to put an end to this before I got a text that was just Y's across the entire screen. It might have taken a month, but I think it would have gotten to that point. So, after a long conversation with myself, I decided that... I was pregnant.

I didn't wanna tell the guy that, since his bathroom selfie, I had come to find him unpalatable. I'm not cold-hearted like that. Besides, I had already laid the groundwork for this story with the vomiting the weekend before, so it wouldn't be that hard of a sell. I found a private spot and crafted the text. I'm lying, someone else did it. I don't do fluff texts very well. They did an alright job:

Hey, sorry I've been MIA for the last couple days. The sick feeling got worse and I was hospitalized for a while. They did some tests on me and found out that I was sick and exhausted because I'm pregnant. I think I need to take some time to focus on myself and my situation, and let the father know. I enjoyed getting to know you, but I don't think I can handle trying to start something new when I have just received this news, it wouldn't be fair to you. I'm really sorry and I wish the best in your search.

Not bad, eh?  I would never have written this much, but it also probably wouldn't have come off very believable either. It would have just been something like, "I'm pregnant and the baby daddy says I can't talk to you no more." Or, even better yet, "New phone. Who dis?" Nah. Still kind of coldblooded. Check out what the man said:

It's ok

To bad I would a met you even if u r pregnant

Not with that grammar, you wouldn't. Can't raise my fictional baby around grammar like that.

I told him that he was sweet. And he was... or just really f*cking thirsty. Not sure yet, because a piece of pregnant ass is still a piece of ass. Amirite?

No further responses to that text. Profile blocked on POF, where I found him. Moving on. Mission accomplished... or not.

Would you believe this dehydrated fool created a new profile and found me again, on POF, a month later? I hadn't been online in a while, thankfully. Because what newly pregnant woman is checking her online dating messages. I happened to go online and look at who had viewed me (a little reverse creeping), and I noticed a picture that looked familiar. And my stupid-ass touched it.

In case you're unaware, and you shouldn't be, based on how I got myself to this point; POF will notify the user when someone views their profile as soon as you look at it. You can pay to not have this feature, but who has money for that? Now he knew that I looked at his new profile with my supposedly fat, pregnant finger.

So, I promptly deleted my entire POF profile.

Long story, short, I need new username for my new POF profile.

Cool 90's Up-in-the-Front Hair

Yes, it's been awhile. Not because I didn't have anything to write about, but because adulting, that's why.

We left off with the fellow that I've come to know as Cool-90's-Up-in-the-Front-Hair dude; because that's the hairstyle that he had in his profile pictures. For those of my readers who are too young to know the hairstyle I'm referring to:

It becomes a pivotal point later in the story. I'll just call him Mr. Heeeeeeyyyyyyy, for short.

When I last posted, it was the weekend and I was in the throes of a very, very.... mild cold. It was seriously weak, people. It could have been confused for allergies. Mr. Heeeeeeyyyyyy wanted to know what I was up to... like all the time. I'll be honest, I wasn't really feeling the guy at this point, at least not at that moment, so I told him that I was near death with this cold. Here is a transcript of said convo:

4:34PM

Heyy

Hey

Whatcha up to hun

Sleeping all day :(

Lucky you

Not really.

5:46PM

What u doing tonight

Still sleeping. Feeling really tired.

Sorry

Don't be. 

Why is he sorry? No idea. Probably the Canadian in him. Lol. Honestly, if I was too sick to deal with whatever thirsty plan you had for the weekend at 4:30, I'm not sure why I wouldn't be an hour later. Buddy is starting to annoy me now. And then all of the shit hit all of the fans, when he decides to send me a picture of him with a "fresh shave"; as if to blow the sickness away with his bathroom selfie skills. It did not work. I looked at the picture and I nearly tripped over my own feet on the way to the kitchen.

The man looked like either one of two things happened: either he took those pictures a loooong time ago, or they were taken not too long ago and time hadn't been very kind to him. Compared to his profile pics, the man looked haggard and his hairline looked like it had sounded a full retreat back to the base... of the neck. I've come to the conclusion that those pictures were probably taken in the 90's. This fully explained the dated hairstyles throughout his profile.

I know that we all don't like everything about ourselves, but you can't start out your relationships with a lie because of that. So you're losing your hair. Own it and learn how to love yourself as you are. Or, get one of those new man-weaves that I've been seeing online. Me, I wouldn't prefer to date a guy with a man-weave. I can be picky about that because I don't wear weaves. I think it's only fair that if I don't wear weaves, my man shouldn't either. Weaves are expensive and you can't run your fingers through them.

Real talk, you also can't just pick the era where you felt you looked your best and use those photos as your profile pictures. If that was the case, our profiles would all have high school/college photos in them. Personally, I'd choose college.

While I realize that this isn't as bad as fully catfishing someone, it was still pretty far off from what I was expecting. I should get all of the brownie points though, because I was nice to him in my response; knowing full well that the thoughts of ghosting, had become full plans.

The plans were forced into motion right after I received the next text:

6:21PM

So whatcha doin tonight

Jesus Christ, someone get this man a cup of something, because he is SO THIRSTY! It's the same day, fam! I'm done, at this point, in case that wasn't clear. Ghost plan, activated.

Gonna go back to sleep. Not a good day for me.

R u ok

Been throwing up all day, along with the cold.

Ouch :(

Note: Barf is a surefire way to stop a guy from feeling frisky and the threat of being vomited on is enough to flatten many a man's thirsty ambitions. I received no further texts from him...

..That day.

Le sigh.

Cuddling Holding Hands Kissing Massaging Etc.

Sensitivity, amirite? Can't live with it, can't live without it. 

A new applicant sends me a message on POF and he's aight. I'm not completely repulsed, nor do I feel as though he's prettier than me. So, I send him a message back and I get a response immediately.

Let's be real, while I hate the games that are played in texting, like not responding too eagerly so that it seems like you're a busy person; when we all know that you're eating cereal out of a cup, while binge watching the latest Netflix release. But I feel like it's reached the point where everyone either does it, or expects it. I'm the type of person who will match the behavior of the other party; if you habitually take and hour to respond from me, we will finish a 9 part text message by the time I finish my work day... only because one of those texts was a 2 part response... "Lol"... "k".

That being said, the fact that this guy was back on it within a minute, was a little unnerving. What was worse was the response included the words "kool" and "awsome".  *twitch* I will have you know that the word "kool" appeared several more times throughout his messages; to the point that I was unsure if he was doing it to be cute.... or he just really didn't know! 

I calmed my twitches and told myself that he might be a really nice guy anyway; a nice, grammatically idiotic guy. He gave me his number so we could text... and.. I ... gave... him... mine. Smh.

What I found particularly vexing was the way he would start all of his text conversations with, 

"Heyy"

Like, why the extra Y. I only do that when I'm trying to indicate a certain level of sassiness. But even then it would be, "Heeeeeyyyyyyyyy" and I wouldn't start every text conversation with it. At least not as a grown woman.

I now know that this man is a very sensitive being and he didn't quite get my sort of humor. It seemed like I hurt his feelings a few times. Example: (I'm twitching while transposing this)

U r to good to be true

So I ask what's the catch.

I'm an axe murderer. Lol

No serious I'm afraid our first time hangingout is gonna be so good I don't want it to end.

You're gonna kidnap me? 

Lol

Nooooo. Don't make fun. :(

Now, I haven't figured out the end game for this guy, but I feel like someone told him to "kill the ladies with sensitive shit and you won't be able to keep them off the jock." That, is not true. Not all women prefer to have super sensitive guys. We all don't wanna be with the guy who cries after sex. Or at least the guy that makes you believe that he will cry after sex. I say this because, this came right after that string of texts:

Don't u want our first time hangingout to be cuddling holding hands kissing massaging etc.

No, sir. I'd rather it involve some coffee, in a very public setting and some COMMAS!! Jesus, man! What you just wrote implies that I will be cuddling some clasped hands, that are somehow making-out and massaging. Nope, not my idea of a night out.

The man would ask if I wanted to come "cuddle" at all kinds of hours on a school night! Suffice it to say, he came off as a very thirsty gentleman. Parched, even. Severely dehydrated.

This started on a Monday. I was legitimately sick by Thursday with a cold. Good excuse to postpone any arrangements for a date. Give him some more time to woo me. Because up until that point the man had made very little effort to actually get to know me. And not that I'm in search of compliments but the most he had said in that regard was, "Ur good looking and all".  I think you can come up with some more sensitive shit than that. By the time Friday came around, I was ready to fade to black. Just ghost. 

As this is an ongoing story, happening in real-time, you'll have to stay tuned. Part 2 

Part 3 - The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey

If you haven't been keeping up, you're so late and you need to go back and catch up with part one and part two.

So, I'm trying my best not to get swept up in the snow tornado that is making it's way across a frozen lake. If you've ever been by the lake in anything but the summertime, you will know that it is significantly colder next to the lake that it is.... well, anywhere else. The wind is cutting through my pants like they were pantyhose and I am ready to go. Romance be damned.

The wind is too strong for me to walk into it, so I have to turn around and walk backwards. Would you believe that this ill-prepared little man decided to use me as a windshield. He pulled right inline behind me and was able to shield his entire body with mine. I mean, I know he wasn't wearing nearly as many layers as I was, but come on. Chivalry! This was your stupid idea to begin with!

After about five minutes of back-pedaling, I give up and start sprinting down the boardwalk. I recognize his building and make a mad dash for the door. My face hurts, my nose is running like there was a fire drill in my nostrils and all of the snots were trying to exit the building. I can feel the flu virus mounting it's comeback against my obliterated immune system, which is furiously trying to keep my body from hypothermia.

I sit down to try and collect some warmth before making my way to my car and this is when I finally get a glimpse of this guy's master plan. He tells me that I should come up and get warm... with a BEER! He must have thought, "I guarantee she'll want to come up stairs and jump in my nice warm bed, if I freeze her to death on the walk home" The man froze the holy shit out of me and then invited me up for a BEER. Have you been listening to single word that I've said all night? To be honest, even if he had invited me up for the best hot chocolate I had ever had in my life, I wouldn't have gone. I felt horrible and my snotcicles were still defrosting.

I told him that I wasn't felling well. He told about how much better he could make me feel. I asked how I could get back to my car. He offered to walk me to my car. Ugh. *sigh* Fine.

I get to my car, get ready to part with a hug. Nope, he goes in for the kiss. A kiss that consisted of him SUCKING on my tongue. Not like, a french kiss tongue sucking. Like... my tongue is that piece of spaghetti that you're trying to suck up. Like... my tongue is a baby's pacifier. Like... my tongue is the only thing that will get you the last bit of sweet, sweet grape drink in the bottom of the juice box. It was just, wrong. What was worse, is that this was probably him pulling out the best move in his arsenal to get me to stay. He pulled out the big guns... and shot me dead! That date could not have be resuscitated by Jesus himself.

I told him goodnight and bundled into my car. He leans in and goes for one more shot with the big guns. I'm sitting there in shock with my hands in the air, because I'm not sure of whether this is going to stop on it's own, or if I need to smack him over the head. And then, just as soon as it had started, it was over; probably an indication of what would have happened if I had decided to "warm" myself upstairs.

I leave as quickly as legally possible. Ten minutes later I get a text that says, "You should have come upstairs, it's so warm up here." I can't even.

By the time I woke up the next morning, I was hoarse and I couldn't get out of bed and I was secretly hoping that he had caught my cold. I had already decided that I was going to break up with him using my standard fall off the face of the earth approach. My co-workers, however, thought that I should let him down nicely. We, and I say we because there were 3 of us, crafted the most elaborate and compassionate text to the guy.  It went something along the lines of:

You're a really nice guy and I enjoyed the evening with you but I'm not looking for a relationship right now and I wish you all the best of the luck in the future... blah, blah, blah. Lies, fluff, more lies, well wishes and more sensitive fluff.

The man-child wrote back, "Oh, that's cool, I wasn't really looking for a relationship either. I was just looking for someone to keep me warm during my slow season."

Hold up, what!?! Here comes my woman's intuition waving her, "I told you so!" flag. This, THIS is why I don't bother with the letdown text. Firstly, because I can tell that it's bullshit and fluff, which means anyone with any form of intelligence can tell it's bullshit. Like saying fast-food workers at Subway are sandwich artists. You're just trying to make them feel better about a crap job. No matter what I write, it's a rejection. They know it. You know it. We're not fooling anyone. Second, I know 9 times out of 10, you're probably going to have a nasty, petty, immature response. My intuition normally doesn't let me down and it's only when I disregard it that I end up on dates like this.

What have I learned from this outing? If I walk up to the meeting location and he's wearing a Led Zepplin t-shirt and he's several inches shorter than his profile said he was, keep walking.

The Hobbit: And His Vast Fortune

If you're just tuning in, you're late, go back and read part one. I'm not doing a "previously on" section.

I was recovering from the flu. It's integral to the next part of this date; the best part of this date; the end of it.

I reluctantly set out from his lobby, into the frozen tundra because the bar is in "walking distance". So, let's just clarify somethings. For those of you who might not be aware, the actual distance of "walking distance" differs depending on the season. What was walking distance on a nice summer day is no longer walking distance in the winter. While walking distance in the summer can be a long meandering stroll that takes like 10 minutes. Walking distance in the winter is the length of a large parking lot. On this particular day, and in this particular outfit, it was the distance from the driver's side of my car to the passenger's side of the car in the next parking spot.

This bar was not even in regular, winter walking distance.

But again, I'm Canadian and I was wearing my good winter coat, scarf and gloves. He, was not. Buddy didn't even have on a hat. Good luck with that.

I don't like beer. Never have. Probably never will, but people keep thinking that the beer they like is going to be THEE one for me. Much like the people they try to set me up with, it doesn't work out that way. I've mentioned this much to the Hobbit in our conversations, but of course he has THEE beer at this pub that I have to like because it taste like dark chocolate... which I am equally not fond of.

We get into the pub and it's empty, because hell has frozen over outside. I walk in looking to the 9s with a fellow who is dressed as my sloppy assistant. We garner some quizzical looks on our way to a table and order some drinks. He gets his chocolate fantastic beer, me: vodka cranberry aka sweet juice with booze.

Long story, slightly short, the beer tasted like beer and I still don't like beer. You probably think you can change my mind, just gonna leave this here.

Back on track. We start to talk about the work week and well, ya know, life, and somehow the conversation regresses into a discussion about how much money he makes. It branches off into regular date talk and then diverts back to his earning power. On multiple occasions I was reminded of his six-figure salary, the fact that he drives some kind of fancy car, works from home and... how much taxes he paid last year (wtf?!?). Like, who shares that kind of stuff, not just on a first date but in life, as a whole. I don't even know how much my bestfriend paid in taxes, ever. At one point, he even deigned to ask me how much I made! Which I admitted was not as much as him, and left it at that. But he didn't like golddiggers! Don't be mistaken, he did everything in his power to attract them, but he didn't want them. Maybe that's why he dressed so shabbily; because he was using his attire as golddigger repellent. Like all of those rom-coms, where the rich prince wants to find the girl-next-door, so he throws off all of his princely belongings for a Led Zepplin t-shirt and some "pants". Like, Coming to America! I don't think the Hobbit got the gist of the movie, because Prince Akeem doesn't walk around NYC telling the girls about the size of his castle back in Zamunda.

I know his intention was probably to over-compensate for something, can't quite put my finger on it... maybe if I kneel down, it might be easier to reach. Low blow, I know. But it just made me feel like I wasn't accomplishing anything with my life. He was 3 years younger than me and I didn't have a six-figure salary, or even a semi-nice car. My car was a 10 year old Civic, that I still drive now. So, a word to the fellas that may happen across this blog: Bragging will normally produce the opposite effect of what you're aiming for; unless you're aiming to make the person feel bad about themselves, which would make you a douche and I can't help you with that.

With that being said though, he still rented his apartment, for a whopping $2000/month!! Which led me to believe his money, was new money. Paying $2000 in rent, when you could have a $1500 mortgage, just seems ridiculous to me.

After an hour or so of feeling bad for myself, I was ready to go. The high point of the date had been watching some drunk girl on her way home from the club, try to make her way across the Queensway. She fell, repeatedly, almost got hit by a car and some pervy-looking man tried "help her" by getting her to go "somewhere" with him. I'm guessing he was trying to get her into an early grave. But I'm paranoid and jaded, so I made close note of the man's description, in case I had to be the lead witness in her murder trial. Thankfully, she was still sober enough to know that wasn't a good idea, but not sober enough to know that she couldn't make it over that snowbank and across 6 lanes of traffic without falling out of her stilettos.

He decides to walk me back, because I wasn't sure of how we got to the bar, as my face was buried in my jacket, so that my nose wouldn't get frost-bitten and my eyeball juices wouldn't freeze. He says we're going to take a different route, "don't worry, you're going to like it. It will be romantic." My mind flashes back to the drunk girl that I found so comical an hour ago, warm and cozy in her early grave. But then I remember that he can't even really reach my face with the ether soaked rag, so I could probably take him.

Just in case you were worried that the date had already reached it's lowest point, fear not. The "romantic" detour that he took me on was next to... the lake. The lake that was presently FROZEN as far as my eye could see. What I did see out on that lake was straight out of some north-of-the-wall scene from Game of Thrones. A snow tornado blew across the ice. Literally.

I knew the general coordinates of where I was, but I was not completely sure of which one of the many buildings was his. This was not the route that we had taken from his lobby. So... I was at his mercy to get me to my car...

Tomorrow people. Tomorrow.

The Long Awaited Tale of The Hobbit... Without a Ring

This unfortunate series of events is brought you in part by the good folks at OkCupid.

So this story is way past due, seeing as it happened in Feb 2014. In all fairness, it was delayed because it was pretty bad and I left all traces of dating for more than a year after that.

The beginning of this starts with the customary messages back and forth online an then moves towards texting. Nothing stuck out about the messages that set off alarms bells or my women's intuition; the intuition that is firmly rooted in the town of I-Told-You-So.

We decided to meet up at a bar/pub on a Saturday night for drinks. I went shopping with some co-workers and spent the better half of 2 hours trying to put together a nice outfit for the evening. He tells me that he loves a girl in heels. I begrudgingly remove my flat boots in the car and but on a LOW-heeled boot.  Relationships are about compromise, right?

Check my determination out. This Saturday happened to be one of the coldest nights of the year, and well ever. No hyperbole! Don't believe me? Click here. It was -25C without the windchill, -40c with on Feb 15th.

A little about my date for the evening. His profile says he's a Caucasian male, 5'8" (make note of this for later) and he's laid back, down to earth, blah blah blah.... same stuff you find on ALL of the profiles. Legit, they all say the same two things; they're laid back and down to earth. I've decided that if I find the profile where the guy says he's uptight and out in space, I'll get on my Carly Rae Jepson flex and just send him my number. Straight out of the gate. No small talk, just, "Hey, I never met you, and this is crazy..." Off topic, sorry. He lives downtown near the lake, in a condo and he tells me to park at his building, the bar is close by.

I'm running a bit late, because it's snowing out, but I'm Canadian and I will not shy away from a snow storm. So, I park at his building and tell him that I'm in the lobby. Bruh, what met me in that lobby... *twitch*

Disclaimer: I know that people come in all shapes and SIZES, but be real with yourself. I know that I'm, at best, 5'4", might even fudge it to 5'4 1/2". I would not put that I was 5'9" on my profile. Because if you, as a person with your own personal preferences, do not prefer people of my short stature, you will probably not message me/respond to me. Right? Right.

This man was never, 5'8" at any point in time in his life. He was 5'3" at best. In the heels, that he asked me to wear, I could see the top of his head. I could also see that he looked like he just rolled off his couch and put on a coat. He had on a leather jacket, with a Led Zepplin t-shirt and some jeans that had passed their best before date by a year or two.

Men, listen, as a woman, there is nothing more frustrating than going all out on your outfit and make-up, only to find that the best your date could do was put on some semblance of a pair of pants; not because he wanted to, but because the law requires it.... and pantslessness (not a word, made it up just for this) is frowned upon in dining establishments.

His shape and size, so sorely reminded me of Sam, from the Lord of the Rings; including the way that he walked. But he had a cute face and nice smile, so! This is how I began my date with... The Hobbit. Stay tuned, part 2 tomorrow.

Not Everyone is Fifty Shades

Ok, so Fifty Shades came out and made all kinds of money in the theatre. Nevermind the fact that it was a bad book and the movie was just as bad, but all of a sudden everyone's into BDSM?

The amount of messages in my inbox that are related to "subs" and "bottoms" and "tops" and "doms" is out of control.

Just because the movie got a lot of hype doesn't mean that your brand of freakiness is widely accepted and that I now want to piss on your face. Understand that this movie was a getaway for all those horny housewives out there, who are tired of "vanilla sex" with their significant other. It's a dirty Danielle Steele novel. Strip away the sex - which I did after a few chapters - and the storyline is lacking. Just because La Senza is now selling PG whips and blindfolds, doesn't mean that we're all waiting in line to be submissives. Also...You are not a billionaire!! If Christian Grey was real, I highly doubt he would spend his time trolling the free dating apps, putting all of his nasty business in the first message.

You know I have examples, right!!

And...

One more...

Sorry, one more...

I feel like there are dating sites that specialize in this type of freaky. I mean, there are dating sites that cater to everything these days. So, why send out these weird messages to a whole bunch of people that are probably not into it anyways. Unless, you've already been banned from those sites too....

It's My Dick in a Blur!!!

I know I've been gone for awhile. I actually deleted all of my profiles from all sites. Long story, for another day. However, I did recently get a message from OKC that asked if I wanted to become a moderator.  So much fun!! I came across this and I decided to share because, I need to. The main question I want you to ask yourself as you peruse through these specimens is, "WHO TOOK THESE PICTURES?"

How you can achieve this look for your dating profile:

1. Take off your clothes
2. Grease yourself up
3. Get someone (?) to take your picture
4. Create a unnecessarily large blur spot that doesn't quite cover all.

Note: Make sure that the blur starts somewhere on your navel so that it seems like you need a very big blur when you really don't.

Here are a few more examples:

 Is this a thing that old people do on their profiles? Choke the chicken?

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Nobody wants to see that!!!! Noooooobody. Also, the whole internet can see these pictures and do what they want with them. Why is your face in any of these? The greased up guy's profile says he has kids!!! They must be so proud.

It's Not Just About the Jokes... Or is it?

It's has come to my attention that a few of my readers have decided to join several of the sites that I've written about and it seems as though you have only joined for the jokes.

This is not a joke people.. it's a serious thing. Relationships on online sites are taken very seriously. When a man writes to you and his first "sentence" is "Spanking?" That's an indication of a serious commitment. He is trying to let you know that he knows that he has a serious problem. Or.. a second possibility... you have posted photos on your profile that indicate that you enjoy spanking or possibly have been misbehaving and need said spanking. Ah ha! Think about that for a moment. Maybe the problem is you!! Didn't think about it that way now did ya?

Yea, I'm kidding and I'm glad you guys are all able to see the jokes in all of this, while I just think it is severely depressing. After a while you get tired of reading the same canned messages. I've reached the point that even if a good looking man wrote to me I probably wouldn't believe that it was actually his picture. Even if that is him in the picture, most of them chicken out before the first date. That part is really annoying, if you're online, I'd like to believe that you eventually want to meet that person. So, just a word of advice, don't string people along, meet up as soon as possible. There's nothing worse than devoting a few weeks or months talking to a person only to find out that they aren't nearly as interesting in person as they are in text.

Have fun ladies and gents!! But don't come crying to me when you find yourself at the bottom of a bucket of Hagen Dazs after a man offers to go halves on a pizza with a hole in his sock and his best thermal shirt. OH!! Speaking of that fool. I saw him on the train the other day. Was just sittin there reading my book and I looked up and there he was. Lucky for me, I had my incognito sunglasses on and he didn't see that I saw him. Crisis averted.

A Bit of Social Media Etiquette

The experience with the Italian is winding down and in it's ending, I have been prompted to point out some pointers on social media etiquetten as it applies to online dating; specifically Facebook.

1. Privacy Settings: When you decide to add someone to your friends list on Facebook, please consider the state of the relationship you are in at that time. Consider making a subgroup in your friends list for people that you've met through online dating. Proceed to block all of the people on that list from things that they probably shouldn't be allowed to see, yet. Things such as: pictures of your friends kids, pictures of your family, pictures of you that might give the wrong impression. Why? Consider the fact that you don't know this person very well and you're friends may not want strangers looking at pictures of their children. There are the stalkers as well, so the less information that they have about you, the better. At least until you know them better. For all you know, when you start taking a look at their page, you might not even want to be friends with them anymore. As the relationship progresses, you may want to allow them further into your life. Treat your profile page just like you would treat your life... unless you're a habitual oversharer. You might not start up your first date by telling them about that one time when you were a sloppy drunk and bicurious, but your profile page might.
2. Ending the Friendship: Don't wait to unfriend. If you feel like the relationship has come to an end, unfriend the person. Don't keep them around in hopes of being friends. If you could have been friends, you would probably still be dating them. I elaborate on my reasoning for that below.
3. Likes/Comments: If you like a picture or a status, then say so, within reason. Don't like every single thing that the person posts. It's creepy and almost impossible to do without looking like a stalker. On the other hand, it seems silly to send a text to the person saying, "I like your photo," when you could have just... liked their photo. If you want to comment, go ahead, but again, with moderation. And maybe if you think of something kinky or lovey-dovey to say.. put that in a text because it just deters everyone else from commenting. As a friend, if I see an overly sweet conversation happening in someone's status comments, I'm probably not going to comment because I feel like I'm interrupting something. And if you're unsure of what to say, just hit the like button and walk away.

The second point refers to the ending of my dealings with the Italian. Normally, I'm cold-blooded when it comes to my friendslist. If I don't talk to you anymore, I remove you. For some reason, I decided to wait to remove this guy. When I finally decide to remove him, I can't access his page. I can see his profile pic and that's it. At first, I thought that he had blocked me, so I did some research. When you block someone, they are also unfriended, so I shouldn't be able to see him at all. I spend the better part of the week Googling it and I can't figure out what he has done, so I give up. 

A few days ago, I get a notification on my phone that his birthday is coming up. What the hell? How can he be blocked and still remind me that his birthday is coming up. I decided to try one more time, I type in his name and... success!! He is unfriended. Up to now, I can't figure out what he did. Maybe he changed his privacy settings so that he could still creep my page while stopping me from doing the same. Weird. So I say again, end the Facebook friendship, while you still can. 

These are just a few pointers from me, use them, or don't; that's up to you. I'm just trying to save you a few hours of your life on Google and possibly a restraining order.

It Popped...

Continuing from this weeks post, the Tinder Italian decided to cancel our date because it was snowing outside.

No self-respecting Canadian would ever cancel plans because there was a bit of snow outside. It takes a good 2 feet of snow before we even cancel school and that's only for the children; the adults are still expected at work. So, needless to say, I was quite disappointed, even more so because I had already gotten the tickets. On top of that, the guy had mentioned that he was quite nervous about our upcoming date on several different occasions. I had warned him not to chicken out and he said that he wasn't, but I couldn't help but feel that the snow was a cop-out.

I ended up driving all the way downtown, in my civic, on all-season tires without even an alarming swerve, to see the movie with my dad. Now, if I could manage to drive all the way downtown like that, you're trying to tell me that your Yukon couldn't have made the trip? The highway barely had any snow on it! 

He attempted to apologize profusely through out the evening, which started to get annoying as I can only forgive you so many times. Shortly before the movie starts, he sends me a text that reads:

The cyst on my back just burst. God is not on my side tonight.

First off, yuck!! Second, I told you he was an over-sharer. Third, I would like to believe that God was on your side because if that thing had popped while we were eating or in the theatre, I would have just walked away. I don't know if you're aware but, infected cysts STINK! As a matter of fact, infected anythings stink. Could you imagine, you're in the theatre and an odour, that is obviously not a fart because it smells like fermented death, starts to spread through the crowded isles. Those with weak stomachs start to vomit and gag and everyone starts to look around for the source. I would die right there. My death certificate would state, "Cause of death: Embarrassment."

Now, you would think that after chickening out (that's what I'm calling it) that he would be in a rush to reschedule the date? Nothing, not even a mention of the redo. The next time the idea of making plans for a meeting, happens 2 weeks later. Some of you may be asking, "Why didn't you mention it yourself?" Because I was starting to feel like I was the only one that wanted to meet up; like he was content with having an exclusively, online relationship. My bestfriend seemed to think that this was his M.O.; he would lure you in and talk to you for months so that you would love his personality and then when you finally meet, 2 years later, you're so in love that you don't care that he's 200 lbs heavier than he said he was.

Coming back to the ever illusive plans, the whole thing started when I mentioned that I was making nachos... at 2 in the morning. He asked me how come I never invited him over, he would have come for nachos. I can see at least one major thing wrong with that statement. You might think I'm an ass for saying this but, only a fat man would be willing to drive for a hour for nachos but not for the possibility of sex. There I said it, he's fat. 

I called his bluff and told him to come on over then. I'll even make a fresh batch! Listen to this fool:

It's late. I'd have to go shower and then it would take me and hour to get there and then it would be 4, then I would only be able to stay for a few hours, it wouldn't be worth it.

There are no words, only gifs can describe what I felt just then. 

Why would you make the offer to come over if you weren't really gonna do it?

I didn't think you would accept.

Frustrated? No, I'm done at this point. I ran out of fucks to give and nerves for you to get on, a long time ago. Why would you do that? Do you think it sounds cute or something? To propose a date just as a joke? Keep in mind, it's been more than a month of texting now. Scintillating texts, such has:

I missed you today.

Don't be mean. That's like asking me not to breathe. Grow some balls.

I missed you yesterday.

Sorry, I passed out. At 5 in the evening?

Sorry, I was napping. At 2 in the morning?

What are you up to? 

* I didn't answer because my phone isn't surgically grafted to my hand. So this text was followed 5 minutes later by:

You don't like me anymore?

By this point I've made a conscious decision to end this foolishness. But he's a nice guy and other than the fact that he's a flake, he didn't really do anything bad to me. So I decide to let the relationship dwindle away by not putting anymore effort into it. Actually, I'll just match the amount of effort that he's been putting in. Sounds like a plan, right?

But wait, there's more!!... Nah, there isn't. It's done.

Canadians Shouldn't Let Snow Keep Them From A Hot Date

Actually, Canadians should seek out as many hot dates as possible in this weather.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I struck up a chat with an Italian guy on Tinder. Our initial chat wasn't bad, he could hold a conversation and he decided to give me his number. I'm not the biggest fan of giving out my number because I don't want to have to change it if a guy turns into a stalker. I took a chance and started texting him. He's music producer that makes songs for TV and movies. He sent me some of the songs he did and they were actually quite good. I was expecting some basement tracks with bad beats and worse lyrics. I actually put one of the songs on my iPod, which is huge for me. He actually makes a good living off of the songs he makes, so I won't lump him in with the rest of the "music producers" that I know.

Now, the pictures he had on his profile left a lot to the imagination. They lacked a proper body shot and 90% of them were selfies.  He told me in one of text conversations that he was 5'10" and 250lbs, which is literally two of me. Not to sound more superficial than I normally do, but I have recurring nightmares of being smothered to death by a... bigger man. Nonetheless, I threw caution to the wind and attempted to meet up with the Italian. He lives and hour away on the other side of the city, but he drives an SUV. What became annoying to me was that he would always suggest that I come over to his house.  Eventually, I told him that I wasn't going to meet a stranger, in a town that I've never been to, at his house. That's how you end up in the evening news with people commenting on how your naivety got you killed. I wasn't planning to pack up my dog and drive an hour out of the way to have to go to work later on in the day. What started to piss me off was that he kept asking me to come out there knowing that I have to work the next day when he works from home and makes his own hours. He's telling me how I should spend the night... on our first meeting... in the basement of your parents house. Yeaaa, I'm gonna go ahead and pass on that. I didn't fault him for living at his parents; he has a rental property that he chose not to live in so that he could save money. Good investment, but if I were him I wouldn't be so quick to invite the ladies over to my mom's crib. Especially if this particular lady has a place of her own. I'm just saying.

Either way, I decided to make plans to meet him downtown for some food and a movie. In my typical type-A fashion, I got the movies tickets a few days before the date as I didn't want to have crappy seats and it was the opening weekend.

We continue to text and it's going pretty well, except... he's an over-sharer. And he sounds like he's either quite sickly or a hypochondriac. The man tells me that he has gallstones which are apparently, very painful. Then he decides to share that he has a cyst, that is infected, at the small of his back, that is the size of baseball. But I must not look at it on the date. That's like saying, "Hey, you see that big red button over there? Yea? Well, no one knows what it does so don't push it."

The day arrives and... it's snowing. It's actually snowing quite a bit. All of my friends are asking if the date is still on and, up to this point, it was. I was like, "It's just snow. I'm not afraid of snow. I'm Canadian." At around 6, he texts me to tell me that it's snowing too much. What the....

To be continued..

Tinder, the Straight Man's Grinder, But Not Really

As I mentioned earlier this week, I recently started using Tinder. It's an app that you can only use on an iPhone/iPod, I use the latter. On a  post a friend made on Facebook, I read an article from the Toronto Star that was talking about the newest trends in online dating; among a few others that didn't appeal to me was Tinder. Tinder was compared to Grinder, but I'm not sure why. Grinder is supposed to be a booty-call/random hookup type of app... for the gays. It'll show you people who are online, in a specified radius, who are looking for a hookup. This app works similarly but with a lot less of the random hookup feel, so I don't think it can be compared.

The gist of the app is that it's online dating stripped down to the bare essentials. I like that it focuses on what matters most to people who are looking for a date, whether they want to admit it or not, the physical. Some people want to pretend that it's only about the personality, I call bullshit on that. You have to have picture to use the app, none of that "ask me if you want a pic" stuff. It also adds a great feature that avoids a lot of messages that aren't going to be returned. It connects to your Facebook profile to access your likes and interests, but it will only show the other party the ones that you have in common, if any. It will also tell you if you have any mutual friends. The app will allow you to use some of your profile pics or you can upload your own to your Tinder profile. Now here's the best part. When you start up the app it'll show you a picture of a possible match, you swipe left if you don't like what you see; swipe to the right if you do. You can look into the profile to see more pics, if you have any interests in common or if the person has written a short "Tagline". For some people who may suffer from verbal diarrhea the Tagline may get you a lot further than you have before. For some guys, the more you write, the more narcissistic/rude/weird/desperate/snobby you sound.  If you like the person, swipe to the right or hit the heart icon and if they like you too, the app will tell you that you've matched and open up a chat window for you to send them a message. Most girls who use online dating will be familiar with opening your inbox to find several messages from guys you never wanted to hear from. This removes that problem as you only get messages from guys that you've expressed an interest in.

Now for the downside. This app has also turned into a hot/not type of app. A lot of guys only go online to rate girls, so just because you've matched up with a guy doesn't mean that you will actually get a message from them. As a result, I've decided that I will only respond to messages, I won't be making any first moves.

All of that being said, I did strike up a chat with an Italian guy, who can spell (bonus points) and seemed to be able to carry on a proper conversation. He lives an hour away from me (bonus points removed) and he seems quite sweet. As this is a long story, it will be posted in parts... it hasn't ended yet, but I do see it ending. Stay tuned for Part 2

What's an Oxford Comma?

Checking that POF inbox, which has quickly become the the melting pot for the dregs of dating society. After reading an article posted by one of my friends, I have since moved on to Tinder; more on that later. Here's an... interesting message: 

 Hi, I read through your profile and I gotta say, only my Freshman English Teacher made more use of the Oxford Comma than you. Oh my name starts with T! Grammar snob at your service!

What the hell is an Oxford Comma? I had to Google that crap. Also, what was the point of mentioning that your name starts with a "T"? It would have made more sense to not say your name at all, or just say your name. It's like he wanted to be formal by introducing himself, but not too formal because it's the internet.

Between your profile and your photos, I have to say, you might be the prettiest girl in this part of the internet… and you do owe me 99 cents because your profile melted my heart like a snickers bar in a pocket on a hot summer’s day. 

So... your heart costs 99 cents or your heart is a snickers or what. Cause I don't get why I owe you a real 99 cents when I melted your metaphorical snickers bar.

Anyway, I would skip all the internet dating formalities and ask you out for a drink but, as you know, the internet can be a dangerous and murky place. So I have devised some carefully selected vetting questions to ensure my safety: 

1. Which is bluer the ocean or the sky? 

2. Peanut butter or strawberry jam? 

3. Early mornings or late nights? 

Did he really want me to answer this drivel?

I totally dug the profile, you seem cool. Gotta say, your picture shows a reflection of a classy lady. How is the holiday season shopping going? Please, let’s chat sometime. 

T

The only thing that appeals to me about this man is that he's a bigger grammar nazi than I am. Otherwise, he's a big whomp whomp, on the prospects scale. Moving on.

The Most Different Strokes...

And this man is different, to say the least. What's that? He looks pretty normal to you. I thought that as well when I opened up my inbox. It wasn't until I looked a bit closer into his profile that I realized how different his was. There was this:

And this....

And these...

And lastly, just in case you weren't sure that was the same guy, there's this:

I'd look at him like that to if I was sitting next to that hot mess. I'm also confused as to why you're wearing a strap-on when you have the real thing; kind of redundant... and it looks uncomfortable.  I mean, hey, you're a cross-dresser, that's great for you. But what exactly about my profile said I was into that kind of thing. I'm not bisexual or "gender-fluid" and I have to say that even if I was and I was looking for someone with a kind of 2 for 1 deal, it'd be with someone who could actually pass for a girl with all, that... stuff. And even as a girl, you look kind of slack. Cover up yourself, leave something to the imagination. Why you gotta have all your stuff out there for the whole internet to see. Stay classy my friend.

In case you're into that kind of thing and think THEY are cute, her name is Sarah and she's into kinky sex; I think that was a given. He/she has a profile, it's a interesting read. Not my cup of anything, but like I said, different strokes. For me this is like a stroking my hair in two separate directions; it makes a hot mess.



Topics I like to explore:
**Gender**Anti-Oppression**Anti-Drug**Neural Pathways**Healing**Recovery**Music**Movies**Dreams**Monsters**Body-Image/Consumerism**Nature**Health**Yoga**Travelling**

I have been in recovery from drugs and alcohol for six years now. So I am not interested in any of that stuff. I am a bit of a home-body in a way. I like to stay in, make music, drink coffee, do abstract art, meditate, hang out with my rabbit, dress like a girl and take photos, sleep, eat healthy. I do enjoy going out, but I don't do it too often.

My occupation is social service worker, I work in a rehab for addictions. I act as a counselor there, and do lots of other stuff also. Running groups, etc.
Also I'm a certified life skills coach, so I can coach people and run life skill groups in shelters and for businesses.
I also went to school for Comedy Writing and Art and Design, graduated both.

I do performance art for an artist collective , clowning when I get the chance, and I make music , just finished my third CD ' Welcome to Sarah's Nightmare Land'. None of them are like being sold in a record store or anything, but that's not really the point .
I also write weird fiction and stuff.

I have had a lot of friends, but people seem to come into my life and then disappear forever after, aside from a few stowaways.

I live near Dundas West Station . I was going to move, but because my room-mates are never here it's like I live alone, and it's cheap and comfortable.

I am gender-fluid, so there's a part of me that's a girl named Sarah as you can see in my photos.
I don't go out in public as Sarah. Only at home and to go see my spiritual healer. So if you want to hang out with Sarah you would have to come over to watch a movie, or invite her over to your place.
I'm also into kinky-sex, so if you are not then it probably won't work out in the long run.
I have 11 tattoos and plan to get more.
I like seeing therapists and healers, I think constantly self-reflecting, creating and evolving are all keys to healthy relationship with oneself.

U into white guys?

Open up the old inbox. Ah, there's a message.

Yes, but upon closer inspection, you aren't a white guy; you're a bird. 

On that discovery, I have to say, I'm not that into birds. That's the only picture that you have and your profile consists of the following:

Who told you that you were fine and made you believe this would actually fly?

Yea, you! This man wrote me a message a few days ago on POF, that I did not answer, for a reason. I don't find you attractive, Sir. Two days later, I receive the following. Note: I have mentioned that I'm a Blackberry fangirl on my profile, hence the beginning of the message.

The man told me to get my act together! What the? Again, who told you that you were so gorgeous and gave you the belief that you had the right to be so arrogant. And I'm not even trying to say that this line would have worked any better for a better looking man, but it wouldn't have come of so pretentious. Ok, it would have still been pretentious but I guess, it would have been expected?

On that note, I'm never going to call you, you annoy me in text alone, nevermind an actual phone conversation. And you don't know me, at all; a profile does not a biography make. "Get your act together"... The nerve! That's just plain rude, handsome or not.

I have question for you...

On my recent trip into the OKCupid pool of washouts, I found a profile that was not.. horrible. But what intrigued me was one of the personality questions that he had answered, and I had not.

"How does the idea of being slapped hard in the face during sex make you feel?"

In order to see his answer, I have to answer the question. So here are my choices:

1. Horrified
2. Aroused
3. Nostalgic
4. Indifferent

Nostalgic. He he he he. These people are funny. I appreciate their sense of humor but where is "None of the Above"? I don't feel any of these things. Don't get me wrong, I also don't feel like I want someone to slap me in the face - at any time - not just during sex. For lack of choice I will choose... "Horrified". I'm not actually horrified but I don't want to give off the slightest indication that it would be okay to slap me, ever. There should be an option that says, "Aroused and okay if I'm slapped in response". That's the kind of answer I would accept. You slap me, I'm gonna slap you back, but it might not be the sexy slap you were expecting.

And what did this current suitor select... Nostalgic. Never would have guessed that. Lol

Skeptical? "Skeptical" is my middle name!

It's actually Skeptical-Jaded and I'm never changing it. I've always had people in my life tell me that I shouldn't be so jaded and give people the benefit of the doubt - that shit's for the birds. It's only thanks to my type A personality that I haven't been burned severely by said advice. This week only fortified my resolve.

I had an ex pop back into my life with professions of love and second chances last month. He was removed from life quite a while back for lack of commitment and double dipping his stick. But oh, now he's a changed man, or so he claims. He's grown up now, got some kids (which was another point of contention within itself), bought a house, a whole new man. I told him that there wouldn't be any messing about this time. I want to go on dates and junk, none of this "hanging out" rubbish - that's high school stuff and I'm getting too old for that shit. I'm trying to get my grown folk flex on. He's all about that and he could do that and I'm always down for a free dinner. I asked some of my girls about the date and 2 out of 3 of my good friends suggested I go on the date because "there ain't nothing wrong with a free dinner." I was partially surprised by this response, but hey, stay classy girls. Lol

A few weeks pass, haven't heard from him and I'm not begging for a date that I didn't really want in the first place. Enter my over-analytical disposition in it's Google-fu black belt. It didn't hurt that the man hasn't changed his username to ANYTHING in the entire time I've known him. While he doesn't use his name on his Facebook profile, it wasn't that hard to locate his profile using said username. But my Google-fu is strong and lo and behold, there is the man, hugged up with some chick, not last year, not last winter, last month. Memories start returning to me, and I remember that I've seen this girl before.... I think he was dating her a few years back when he still had access to my Facebook profile. Poor girl. I would warn her, but she might try to claw my eyes out in a misguided attempt to prove to herself that this man isn't as worthless as she knows he is - a lá, it's my fault that he tried to cheat on her, not his.

In closing, hopefully fate is kind to this man and he loses my phone number... because if I ever hear from him again, I will unleash an Adele scale, Rolling In the Deep-type massacre on him, the likes of which he has never seen before. I'm over this.

Look Who I Found!!

Opie!! I thought you was dead Op! I hope you got out of the Sons, they weren't good for you.