Chronicles of a Toronto F*ckGirl: Part One – The Intros

Carrie – I guess I’m not like everyone. I am always the vulnerable one. I am always the one who tries everything possible. It really seems like I am always the one to get hurt. Frankly, I was tired of it.

Let’s restart: So like every other single 20-something year old female in this city, I have Tinder. Am I proud? Let’s just say there have been plenty of deletes and sheepish reinstallations throughout my year and a half of being single.

At first I thought I was above Tinder. I’ve always met people organically and thought romantic prospects would be no different. Meeting new people and sometimes cute guys has been relatively easy at school. Furthermore, as a server and also a social-floater, I tend to be that random loud person at social events who ends up becoming an integral squad member, if only for a night. I meet a ton of people that I shamelessly flirt with and excel at picking up their best-girl friends. (I think I would kill it if I were into women. Now this may be just speculative, grass-is-greener-on-the-other side, but I feel I connect with a female brain way more than their complex, confused male counterparts.) My problem is that I always seem to have trouble taking potential cuties to the next level past a platonic friendship. I am too much of a bro I suppose. Tinder helps mediate this problem of mine by immediately placing me as a ‘romantic interest’ in guys’ minds (although admittedly more often than not, I am treated more like a sexual object instead).

This one is going to be a multiple-parter because it runs about four weeks, maybe about two times as long as most of my Tinder flings. Reeling from a mind-fuckboi incident and a Tinder fuckboi rebound (both who will most likely appear in later archive pieces some day), I decided enough was enough and it is my turn to be a Toronto f*ckgirl. Inspired by this article, (, I decided I matched most qualifications anyhow as a basic Insta-bitty (#2) and a hardcore Jays fan (#20). So one night in late October, fueled by $12 Rogers Centre tallboy beers during the Jays American League Championship Series, I was feeling 100 times chattier than I had been since I had long given up on dating-app boys. I found myself actually responding to two of the “hey, what’s up cute stuff? ;)” messages I got.

One of my matches, let’s call him Mr. Blind Spot, had interestingly matched with me in September but only messaged me about a month later – perhaps as a last ditch effort? I decide to talk consecutively to another guy, Mr. 3 Chances 2 Many, at the same time. Now for a girl who has “loyalty” tattooed on her back, I have never tried casual dating and don’t really understand the concept of not being monogamous. It takes too much work trying to figure out one guy’s hidden intentions, much less juggle multiple people. But I am young, it was October (a month known for partying before it gets cold), I was finishing off my law school apps, and why the heck not? And so begins my attempt to venture into Chronicles of Being a Toronto F*ckGirl.

It started off with some flirty bantering with the two but since I hate overusing my data plan to wheel and getting notifications from Tinder on my phone screen for the world to see, it quickly progressed to me giving my number out to these two prospective suitors.

They were both in school. Mr. 3 Chances was younger so that was definitely on the cons list. (Most girls have deal breakers of the guy being shorter than them. For me, at 5 foot 2 inches, everyone is taller than me so my deal breaker is if they’re a lot younger than me.) I let it slide because I’m an early baby (April) and this guy looked like a slightly less attractive version of Ryan Gosling. And he was taking biochem engineering at Ryerson so I was like ‘he could potentially be intelligent enough to keep up a conversation.’ But he would ask me how my day was and then never respond… so I focused my efforts on myself and found myself turning to Mr. Blind Spot.

Mr. Blind Spot disclosed that he was in his Master’s at U of T. I was definitely more into the appearance of Mr. 3 Chances (much more photogenic) but Mr. Blind Spot was older by a year and definitely was intelligent enough to keep up a conversation if he was in his Master’s. I just felt a little iffy about him, like something was off. He would consistently respond to my messages so that was a plus since I am used to assholes who screen my texts (ahem Mr. 3 Chances). However, all of the texts were just a tad too much you know? Like a little too flirty, a little too sexual, a little too try-hard; I couldn’t get a read on whether he was a real person or a douchebag. For instance, having gone to Queen’s, the school that’s our archnemesis is Western University. When I found out Mr. Blind Spot had gone to Western before, I said: “Ooo this feels so dangerous yet so good” to which he responded “we can make a Queen’s-Western alliance… or better yet a Carrie-Mr. Blind Spot alliance ;)” That was neither funny nor romantic and it was just a little weird tbh.

I told Mr. Blind Spot I’d message him when I was back from Homecoming Weekend. That was a Thursday. He messaged me again on a Saturday to chat (#keener) and then said some douchey things like “My weekend would have been better if I was in Kingston.” Ever the sassy one, I responded “That’s sweet! (I think)” He answered later saying “Oh yeah, I’m the sweetest.” So when I asked him what the sweetest thing he’d ever done for a girl was, he never replied and I wrote him off in my head.

Surprise surprise, Tuesday he messages me “So I’m assuming you came back from Queen’s.” I promptly responded “I’m assuming that the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for a girl was ignore her so I wasn’t gonna go chasing you.” He said some other questionable things so I ignored his last message. Over the span of a week, I ignored Mr. Blind Spot three times while Mr. 3 Chances ignored me. However, Mr. Blind Spot kept trying and like I’ve said before, perseverance goes a long way in my books.

I guess it stems from my biggest relationship fear: I know I can be difficult, but I also know that I am worth it. (FYI We all are worth it as human beings.) Personally, as a stubborn Taurus, I will always try and in return, I don’t want my partner to give up on me when the going gets tough. So yeah, perseverance means a lot to me and Mr. Blind Spot’s efforts were growing on me.

I began messaging him on a daily basis. He would always reply relatively quickly and being iffy about him, I would take my time. He always surprised me and soon enough, I found myself getting excited to see his name pop on my phone. Mr. 3 Chances would make a rare appearance and I found myself getting committed to the other. It’s the monogamous in me.

I had arranged to meet Mr. 3 Chances on Monday and Mr. Blind Spot on Tuesday. Law school applications submitted, Halloween festivities cleaned up, and Monday/November rolled around. I looked at myself in the mirror, putting on foundation with a cotton sponge for the first time in my life, and I thought “who have I become?” Putting on foundation felt like a mask and dating two guys in one week was completely unlike me. Lo and behold, Mr. 3 Chances disappointed and cancelled on me an hour before our date (which I had texted earlier to confirm). He had midterms so I understood but I was already all made up and psychologically prepared to date.

Luckily, Mr. Blind Spot and I had been texting. And I figured, why waste some perfectly good makeup? I messaged him that he should “turn around and meet me tonight” and he agreed that he would be there in an hour. I looked myself in the mirror one more time, foundation applied, two guys waiting for me to respond, and I called my best friend just to make sure this was the person she knew all her life. It wasn’t, but then again, I was trying to be someone different, someone experimental: A Toronto FuckGirl.

More about my chronicles next week…




From the Archives: Mr. Disappearing Act

This post is a little different, as it was written sometime last year before the inception of DTT6. However, in some kind of prospective hunch for what my future blog would look like, I had already titled it in the “Mr. ____” fashion. As such I felt the need to include it here, so please enjoy a little vintage Samantha in: My Open Letter to Mr. Disappearing Act.

downloadHey there,

How’s it going? Oh that’s good, glad to hear it. Yea…everything is great with me too. Just dandy actually, now that I’ve finally stopped thinking about why you blew me off  a few weeks ago . I’ve decided to write you an open letter in typical “elite daily” form, just to let you know that although you had apparently nothing to say to me, I have a few concluding remarks for you.

Back in September I decided not to focus on guys and just enjoy my last year at university. After all, come graduation I’ll be travelling for two months then immediately starting a full-time job, making this year the perfect time to just “do me”.  However, this turned out to be  much harder than anticipated given the fact that almost every. single. one. of my friends are in serious(ly awesome) relationships, and I’m running around trying to validate my singledom by hooking up with guys I’ll never see again. Despite hearing it from everyone else, you’d never expect it to be as damaging to your self-esteem as it turns out to be.

Anyway, then you came along offering a fun, no-strings attached kind of mutual understanding that I honestly thought was pretty great. I’d never casually dated before and I have to say the whole dynamic works for me. I was very up front with you when saying that I was not looking for anything serious, which is exactly what you said you wanted as well. So let me remind you that I never tried to be your girlfriend and that you were the one constantly messaging, snapchatting, and making it seem like you wanted more.

I am not a clingy person. I don’t need constant attention, am self-sufficient and hate being treated like a princess. In fact, I purposefully made sure not to be too distant so you’d know I was actually interested. And it worked, because for a while there we had a real connection. So what was really confusing was after almost a straight month of keeping in contact without being able to see each other, you decide to  “break us up” the same week we were supposed to hang out.

Was it the distance? Were you just not feeling it? Did you get bored? Because if you didn’t want to be with me that is honestly fine. I am not one of those people who says they want the truth but only if its sugar coated. Speaking of being truthful, I was also losing interest in you…until your little disappearing act. The distance was hard and keeping up a flirty and fun disposition 24/7 ain’t easy. Yet, in typical female fashion, getting rejected out of the blue made me so hung up on why. I wracked my brain for any and all explanations as to what could have changed over the course of 2 days. Finally I realized the futility in trying to read someone else’s mind, forcing me to accept this as just another one of life’s great, unanswerable mysteries .

I hope you realize that I am not petty in the slightest. The grown up thing would have been to have a two minute, semi-awkward conversation that would have left me feeling respected, instead of like the needy, clingy person that I’m not. But, if I’ve learned anything in 21 years it’s that life isn’t perfect. At least, at the end of the day, I walk away from this with the realization that I definitely won’t be treating others the way you treated me.

Wishing you the best,


Our Two Cents- The Dbag Dating Guide To Cuffing Season

OurTwoSenseWelcome to the second installment of Our Two Sense, where your dating panel provides their two cents into The Dbag Guide to Cuffing Season.

Dbag Dating


The other night, I was hanging out with my girlfriends, reenacting some sad SATC-inspired scenario comprised mainly of Mirandas, when one of the Mirandas (by way of the Bronx) enriched my jargon with a beautiful expression that I previously hadn’t heard of.

Cuffing Season (via Urban Dictionary) – During the Fall and Winter months people who would normally rather be single or promiscuous find themselves along with the rest of the world desiring to be “Cuffed” or tied down by a serious relationship. The cold weather and prolonged indoor activity causes singles to become lonely and desperate to be cuffed.

How apropos this is what we’re reviewing given the names of our secret identities…eh, Miranda 😉 

I still can’t believe you haven’t heard of this term….smh (shake my head).

Ok, Ok…so I only heard about this cuffing business from Miranda last week but let me tell you, the definition is spot on. All the single ladies I know, and I mean all of them are currently experiencing this seemingly existential crisis about being lonely ’round the holidays. As the weather gets colder, our need to snuggle gets bolder and bolder.

It’s human nature to start feeling this way and now there is the perfect word to describe this sensation of loneliness. The sudden need to shack up with someone can come seemingly at random, but the weather and time of year is truly to blame. Or at least, we’ll use it as an excuse 😛

Suddenly, everything fell into place. The suspiciously friendly text I recently received from a semi-ex? My own attempt to cajole a guy friend into coming over to “drink wine and cuddle”? All of these pathetic pleas have a simple, weather-related explanation, provoked by nothing other than the drop in outdoor temperature. Better yet, said vulnerability presents an excellent opportunity to turn lemons into some mighty fine pisco sours and score a Cuffing Buddy to cuddle up to all winter long!

With the exception of Mr. Netflix and Chill Out, I haven’t experienced many visits from boyfriends past as of late. However, I have definitely caught myself thinking about how exes are doing and if it’s worth reigniting an old flame for lack of better options…Can you say desperado?

Yep, it’s that raw sense of desperation that has girls flocking to the apps and websites. I, too, find myself looking harder on tinder than usual. No more casual hangouts with friends. Give me the club, give me alcohol, and give me a guy that can be mine. At least for a season anyways.

Seriously, I was tindering yesterday to the point where I actually ran out of likes. I mean come on, that only ever happens when I swipe right on everyone just to see how many likes I’d get. …Don’t act like you’ve never done that before. I guess the cuffing season phenomenon is hella real and crept up without our knowing.

And now, a few rules of conduct…

  1. Don’t be too picky.Remember that, when it comes to Cuffing Buddies, practicality is key – all you have in store for this relationship are sex and food and TV, so he must excel in at least two of these areas. I kid you not, my friend once admitted that the best relationship she ever had was with her local deli man, if only because he would bring her cherries and champagne after each shift and speak only when spoken to. Who the hell wants more than sex and food and TV anyway? Haven’t you guys ever heard of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs?

 Hmmm not sure about this one. Sure, I have definitely been a little more lenient on who gets a right swipe these days but there is a definite difference between pickiness and standards. Hooking up with someone less than ideal once or twice is one thing, but I definitely don’t want to date someone I’m not all that interested in. Relationships take work, so I you should be putting effort into the people you actually want to be with. It’s only fair to you and your guy as well.

I guess if it’s just sex and food you’re after, eh  anyone would do in a pinch. But would this satisfy those Cuffing Season blues? I don’t really think so. To me, Cuffing Season is more about ice skating and handholding than booty calls and binge-watching (though I still enjoy those too).

 My standards usually waver on any given day – it really just depends on my mood and self-esteem that day. Last week even, I did something that I wouldn’t normally do. I met up with someone at 10pm on a Sunday (screams desperation I know) for drinks. And even though by the end I was sure I wasn’t into him, I still let him make a move on me and kiss me, which grew into more of a make-out session on a dark street downtown.  Why would I let him? Well, cuffing season would be the answer to explaining the unexplainable. The need to have someone there to hold can overpower your basic instinct and ability to make a decision if you actually like him. That was my situation, anyway.

  1. Trick him into thinking you’re homey and cozy.Your goal is to exude a warm and comforting vibe, the female equivalent of a pumpkin spice latte. I recommend stopping the diet and Soul Cycle nonsense immediately – after all, who wants to hold on to a rubbery skeleton on those cold winter night? If you’re like me and can’t cook for sh*t, improvise. The other day, I took a guy I’m seeing to my friend’s house for a dinner party – four tacos later, a much happier man was sitting next to me. Suddenly, I became cozy and homey by association – wherever I go, warmth and happiness (and alcohol) follow!

This one I can get behind. I am not a romantic person but something about this time of year really gets me in the spirit of LURVE more so than Valentine’s Day or any other marketing-manufactured reason to appreciate your S.O.

Also, as someone who has been on a strict diet for the month of November, I am really looking forward to cuddling up with cocoa, chocolate and ruining all the hard work I’ve put in for the last 3 weeks. 

 Did she just say food? This would be an easy step for me to accomplish. Most of my life revolves around the world of food. If I’m not eating it, I’m thinking about it and my next opportunity to eat it. I’m sure Samantha can attest to that. YUP Food is the language of love in my eyes so I completely agree with using this as a tactic to entrap a man to becoming yours. Also, rubbery skeleton? I don’t know about all of you but I’m far from that so I’ll be chilling with my winter flubber. All I’m saying is I need my fat to keep me warm. 

  1. Add some glamour.When in doubt, look to my compatriots – despite living in the land of endless winter, Russians manage to maintain an unparalleled air of glamour via the decadent vices of fur, hard liquor, and rich cuisine. Indulge in all of those, and don’t forget to throw in some sexy lingerie to envelope those caviar-nourished curves! In fact, think of yourself as a luscious Christmas gift, covered in ribbons and ready to be unveiled.I promise you, the deli man will appreciate it. 

 Ok, maybe I’ll try spicing up my lingerie but the boy will have to work for it. If I’m a Christmas gift, then I’ll be the best god damn wrapped gift he’s ever encountered. I expect him to peel back my many layers of clothing (seductively) to even come close to reaching my bedazzled thong as the final frontier before revealing my prized possession.

 I have a feeling the only males seeing my lingerie this winter will be two little Maltese fluffballs. Who needs love when you’ve got puppy love?

  1. Explore couple activities. Warning: come December, even the gravest of cynics will feel an overwhelming urge to peruse Christmas Market sen couple and smooch passionately under the mistletoe. To which I say YOLO, ice skating with deli man it is! Just don’t forget to keep your eyes on the main prize, aka the joys of fornication.

Here we go with the ice skating! Gawd why must the holidays be so cute and fun and unavoidably relationship-y? It’s like the world turns into an ever-lasting scene from Love Actually for a couple months.

 Dayum this girl is fixated on fornication….someone needs to quench the thirst STAT.

Samantha, this girl makes us look like the most hydrated people in comparison. Her thirst level is unparalleled it would seem. These activities are super cute though, and definitely a huge part of the cuffing aspect for me. They all tie in together. Go outside, be chilly and adorable as a couple and come into the warmth hearth awaiting you to snuggle with a hot cup of cocoa. Bliss, much?

 Couldn’t agree more my friend. Except, no one could make you not look like a dehydrated camel wandering through the desert for 40 years. #sorrynotsorry

  1. Let it sizzle out organically.I once made the mistake of carrying on a cuffing season relationship way past its expiration date, while simultaneously attempting to keep it casual enough to see other people. The guy being French, the whole thing ended with a jealous rage (his) and a homicidal attempt at a Sunday Sundae party on the Seine (mine). Unless it’s the real deal, cut your losses and get out before somebody gets hurt.(Or falls off a boat. Whoops.)

 I want to read the blog post about that situation :p  

 It’s true, I don’t need something forever, just something to occupy my time for a couple dreary winter weeks. I don’t know man. If we could survive the cuffing season together, it might be worth it to try being in a legitimate relationship. Maybe it’s just me being a hopeless romantic. But, I feel like I’m in “cuffing season” pretty much all year round. Even in summer, I’m reminded of the many activities that are best done as a couple. It’s inescapable to a struggling single like myself.


I really loved Dbag’s Dating Guide to Cuffing Season as all the rules of conduct please both you and your special someone. The only problem is finding that person that you’d so love to spoil. Having not met anyone remotely interesting lately, I have come up with an accompanying definition for Urban Dictionary:

Cuffing Season Blues: the needless, over-emotional  feelings of insecurity and loneliness associated with being single during the “most wonderful time of the year”.

At least I’ve got my dogs.

Mr. Frienths

Carrie – Mondays are already the worst. Having been in the workforce for about three solid months at this point, I am qualified to say this right? Well to make matters worse, it was a rainy Monday when my friend bailed on me and an eight month long mind-fukboi and I had finally broke it off earlier that weekend. Needless to say, I was reeling in a pile of self-pity when my sister and her best friend from high school were having a girls’ night at the apartment.

Now my sister is significantly older than me but living with her has worked out so far since we’re in a similar phase of our lives for the first time. We’re both twenty somethings, both working, both single, both like drinking and socializing and I am slowly becoming as liberal minded as she is when it comes to sex and men. She was not partial to Tinder so it took a while to convince her, but with a little booze and a sisterly prodding, I challenged her to get a new app that my friend had suggested called Bumble. Being somewhat competitive in nature, my sister and I began swiping, trying to match with the same people. Only problem is that her 40 year old prospects are way beyond my age scope and she is opposed to being a cougar to the likes of my early 20s dating pool.

Now on Tinder, I am used to a results-based approach, swiping and instantaneously matching (mainly because of how seldom I swipe and the fact that I’m not a robot offering sex for money). However, having just set up Bumble, I was frustrated to not have any matches for the first hour. I went on a rampage, giving myself a finger cramp as I swiped through hundreds of prospects on my screen. Imagine my shock when I woke up the next morning to over 100+ expiring connections.

Some of the guys were cute but one in particular caught my eye. I started with a Friends reference (his name may or may not have been one of the leading characters) and he called me out on being unoriginal. I did not respond because he seemed like a dick and I had 99+ suitable options otherwise.

I am a softie though. Throughout that night, he messaged me multiple times after and the fact that he was only three km away was quite appealing compared to some of my other matches in Oakville. (Go Train? No thanks.) Eventually I gave him my number because persistence in my mind equates to “you love me” which I often delude myself into thinking “since you love me already and we’re strangers, you won’t be an asshole later down the line.” Like I said, my curse is being a hopeless romantic.

He originally had asked me for drinks but seeing an opening after I finished my sports at 8 pm, he asked me to come over after my intramurals. I was like “yolo” having just started a new full-time job and wanting to celebrate with someone. I went over to the location of his nice waterfront apartment, sitting near the fountain in the foyer thinking, “this has potential.”

Then he came down to let me in and I think my face looked discernibly confused when he greeted me. Not only did he have a higher voice than me, but I would later discover that he also tragically has a lisp. I smiled politely thinking “dear God.” He led me into his dirty room in the apartment, where we sat on his bed with ripped bedsheets and tried to ignore the smell of old gym socks. (At one point, I had to pee and the toilet cover was another sight indeed…)

But as a hopeless romantic, I ignored the signs of “you and this guy are SO NOT compatible” and we chatted. He was cute enough with long, curly flow which I complimented and he said, “yeah, ever thince (since) I’ve grown it out, the ladieth (ladies) are really into it.”

And the night proceeded to be overshadowed by how cocky he was.

“I could be an actor if I wanted.”

“I know that I’m pretty good-looking.”

The best yet:

“I don’t understand why girls don’t talk to me on these apps.”

Admittedly, I fell for his next line when he told me, “I just moved here and the th-ity (city) can be lonely thometimes (sometimes).” I think it’s because I empathized and was looking for companionship in Toronto more than anything. Next thing I know, we’re making out and he reaches for my pants. I stop him but as a giver, I offer him something in return. Approximately a minute and a half later, I hear a squealed “op – I’m gonna–” and he finishes. I was not impressed and definitely made it clear I was not.

We hung out for a bit after but he told me he would only give me a ‘smooch’ on the cheek, “because, you know” and then points to his own private part. Okay, asshole alert. He invites me to sleepover, I say no but it’s getting late and leave with him walking me to the elevator.

Wish I could say “and we lived happily ever after” but I never hear from him again… and I’m fairly sure I would recognize his voice.

Mr. Hot and Cold


Samantha – Alright, get ready for a doozy. After getting bored of the ye olde tinder game (a girl can only act cute and fun for so long) I decided to try meeting guys the “old-fashioned” way…in a bar. One night, while out with my DTT6 co-conspirator Miranda, I met this guy who seemed pretty nice and tried to introduce them. She was not interested but we ended up talking and actually got along quite well. Get this, he was taller than I was and I was wearing heels, if that’s not a match made in heaven then I don’t know what is. We ended up chatting all night, buying each other drinks (See? I am an independent, 21st century, liberal-thinking woman…re: “Mr. Forgetful”) and exchanging numbers.

A couple days later I hear from the guy and we planned to meet up for drinks. We had a fantastic time, chatting for hours and things were going really well. Then it was time for me to catch my train – yes, commuting is a joy – so he offered to walk me to the station. After (literally) running through the 6ix and just missing it, he pulled me in for this really romantic kiss in the middle of the station. It was very cute and as a generally non-PDA kind of girl I was surprisingly into it.

He then asked if I wanted to grab another drink because now I had to go home late, and I did. We went to another bar and that’s when things got pretty PG-13 if I do say so myself… lots of handholding and kissing, which again, for Ms. Non-PDA over here was a pretty big deal. After the bar we went for a walk along the waterfront harbor and kissed…a lot. He mentioned that it was a pretty flawless first date – which it was – and that he had “caught feelings for me”. Interesting way of putting it but I was too giddy (and a little too tipsy) to care.

Before I go on, one of the things you should know about me is that I do not play games. I have no patience for it and do not put up with it. I told this to Mr. Hot and Cold and that I am not a huge texter, which he said that was fine by him and we’d just text to make plans. Perfect! Here’s a guy I’m starting to like, who  says he likes me and it seems like we’re on the same page. Right? Wrong.

We tried to make plans for a second date, but getting an answer from him was really difficult in a “respond 6 hours later with one word” type of way.We ended up having to reschedule our date, twice, with one time being attributed to him being sad that the Blue Jays lost a baseball game #ComeTogether… So, on the day that we were meant to hang out, I messaged in the morning to make sure we didn’t have to reschedule again. Which I thought was fair given our track record. Well, apparently not, because I didn’t hear from him until right before I was supposed to head downtown. This was very frustrating because as a commuter living 45 min outside of the city, I didn’t want to go downtown only to find out he was going to cancel on me, again. As such, I didn’t get ready until I heard from him and was pretty irritated by the time I got downtown.

There was also the added bonus that he repeatedly told the same stories from date #1, to the point where I began to think that either he must’ve been really drunk on our first date (which he admitted that he was) or he is just stupid. Neither are great qualities in a date. Then I realized that a lot of the things that he was  saying were actually kind of offensive and not attractive at all, and I began thinking…”Did I like this guy because I was drunk? I mean, we did meet at a bar and had our first date was at one too so…Omg, I totally like this guy better when I’m drunk!” Obviously this is not a revelation I was willing to share, and was told at the end of our date that once again he thought it had gone really well, he could see us moving past just dating and that he wanted to see me again.

Thinking that maybe I had just been in a bad mood that night, I agreed to another date. Again, our texting game to try and make plans was seriously lacking, but I accepted that as just “his style” since he kept saying how much he liked me in person. The only text I actually did get was while he was out at a bar one night asking if I was there, which I was not. However, DTT6 co-conspirator Miranda was at the  bar, and said he was talking with someone else the entire night. Which is honestly fine with me and totally his prerogative, but seriously, did he need to be messaging me at the EXACT SAME TIME? After that I was pretty much over the whole thing, because my interest was already dwindling and had come to realize that games were not only a thing that he plays, but also his middle name.

It just so happens that the day before our date I won tickets to see a playoff soccer game and had to cancel on him. I sent a very nice message, well in advance I may add, and even suggested rescheduling. I was in turn ignored and never even got a response back. Nice eh? I’m really looking forward to seeing him again at a bar so I burst into song: “You change your mind, like a girl changes clothes..  ”

Update: I actually did end up seeing him at the bar a week or so later and he completely ignored me when I tried to catch his eye. Not really sure what his deal was but if anyone reading this can figure it out I’m all ears.

Our Two Cents- 59 Things Everyone Has Experienced While Dating Online in 2015


Introducing the inaugural entry to our brand to segment, Our Two Sense, where a pair of our esteemed daters provide their commentary on other awesome posts about life, love and all that good stuff.

Last Tuesday, Thought Catalog posted an article about the 59 Things Everyone Has Experienced While Dating Online In 2015. The post was just too good not to share so we’ve included it below along with our two cents! (hehe, get it?)

Thought Catalog

1. Ugh, I don’t want to be on any dating apps. They’re such a waste of time. Is this a sign I’ve given up on finding someone the traditional way? AM I UNLOVEABLE IN A TRADITIONAL SENSE? I’m pretending to be above online dating, but I want to find my TINDERELLA tale too!

2. …Well maybe I’ll try [insert app], people seem to like it. My friend just downloaded it and met her boyfriend on there so it must be chill. I’ll just focus on this one success while ignoring the countless stories of fuckbois from friends who have had no luck at all. Ya, total denial of horror stories is advisable if you want even a chance to survive 30 seconds on any dating app.

3. Ok which of my Instagram pics would make the best profile pic? And how edited can I get away with without catfishing the poor guy who swipes right? How old is too old for my pictures to be? I looked way cuter 3 years ago.

4. Right, so now what do I say on my profile? Do I try to be witty and cute or do I say nothing and work the mysterious angle? Ex. My current description: “peace, love and pizza” as told by emojis. Same here- I basically just profess my love for food, they don’t actually care what I’m about anyways.

5. Profile’s done!  What a carefully curated piece of artwork- I should be in a museum.

6. Oh he’s cute *swipes right.* Dayyyum, how do I get with that?

6.1. Oh he’s super cute! Does that warrant a super like?

7. Ugh this guy looks like an asshole *swipes left.* Fukboi 101 alert.

8. There’s no way I would be his type *swipes left.*

8.1. I’ll swipe right on this guy because I have a feeling he did too *swipes right*

9. Is that my ex-boyfriend’s torso? *Favorites* Uh. No thanks. He’s called an ex for a reason.

10. Hmm this guy looks really hot in this picture but in this one not so much *not so sure where to swipe*. [Closes app, as if to really think it through]. Men, stop trying to trick us. We’re way too paranoid to swipe wrong for your “method” to work.

10.1 *Swipes right anyway hoping he looks like the cute pics* Apparently the method works on some of us…

11. OMG it’s been like 20 minutes and I don’t have any matches. Am I ugly! What’s wrong with society! Thinking positively – maybe they just haven’t seen me yet? It needs to time to load….

12. Whatever I’m so over it. I never wanted this dumb app anyway (this is a lie).  

13. Deletes app. Or just ignores it for a while. This usually lasts 2-3 weeks, based on my previous experience. Until you’re bored enough to try it out again…

14. Repeat 2-10.

15. Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling into the wee hours of the night.

15.1 I’ll just swipe until my next match.

15.2 I’ll just swipe until my next chat.

15.3 I’ll just swipe until I’m done shitting.

16. Goes to sleep, finally. Wakes up, phone underneath pillow, excited to see that there are so many new matches and messages! With only a few creeps to spare!

17. Today is going to be a good day. I walk with a strut in my step. The sidewalk is my runway. Bitch, move out of the way. WERK.

18. Oh yeah, he’s really cute. And I don’t even have beer goggles on. Success!

19. “Hey!” How many yyy’s are appropriate?

19.1. “Hey”, “Heyyy”, “Heyyyyyyy”.  Ok, now I just seem drunk. Samantha may be wearing beer goggles in this case.

20. 8 hours have passed. I CAME ON TOO STRONG I KNEW IT. Should’ve limited it to only 6 “y’s.”

21. Well it says he was last online an hour ago but he hasn’t responded to my “hey” yet. I hate playing these games.

22. RUDE. Why am I playing these games?

23. Oh, this one’s even cuter.

24. “How’s it going?”

25. “Fine and u?” This is fascinating…Like dating wallpaper.

26. “Yeah I’m just busy with work, meh. Hey I saw you love Moloko — I love them, too!” *Feigns interest in your interests*

27. No response.

28. Still no response.

29. That’s fine. Whatevs. Self-protective armour – ACTIVATE!

30. This guy says he’s only into other fit masculine normal guys. I mean…

31. Oh he looks fun, I’ll message him.

32. We’ve been sending cute messages back and forth for like 2.5 days now, maybe it’s time we TOOK THIS TO WHATSAPP. Baby steps now, we don’t want to scare him off.

32.1. I don’t get WiFi in the office and Tinder is eating up all my data…

33. Just ask for my number! This is so the biggest step when dating online.

33.1. Praying he asks for my number before people catch me on tinder in public. Current life status.

34. Ok his name is David, I know way too many Davids.

35. But this David has really nice abs.

36. So I’ll put him in as David Abs, which is different from David Tinder and David Total Top. It’s fine – I only need to know the difference anyways.

37. Messaging with someone you haven’t even met is so fun! We connect so well even just through typing! My soulmate! We have so many superficial similarities. It’s like he gets me or something.

38. You love picking up the phone and seeing all the green Whatsapp notifications. It’s like you’re winning. No notifications is very sad 😦 Winning at the game we call life.

39. Something always goes wrong at this stage of the courting. Because the guys online always take it one step too far – Ex. “Hit me up tomorrow” “Oh ya, I’ll hit you, but only if you hit me back ;)” NO. JUST NO.

40. Scenario #1: SOMETHING GOES WRONG. Cute guy says something stupid/racist/misogynistic/idiotic. 90% of the time this is true.

41. NEXT.

42. Scenario #2: PERSON IS TERRIBLE. Hey, let’s meet for coffee.

43. Ok well that was terrible. NEXT. Oh god why did he have to try and hypnotize me in public. Shameless plug: see Mr. Hypnotist post for the details.

44. Scenario #3: Hey, let’s meet for coffee.

45. Oh wow he was so cute! And we had so much to talk about, I can’t believe I was there 5 hours.

46. After the first date he disappears completely. Messages are much less frequent. What did I do to turn him off? Was there not a mutually intense connection?

47. Scenario #4: Hey, let’s meet for coffee.

48. Oh wow he was so cute! And we had so much to talk about! I can’t believe I was there 5 hours.

49. Gradually we’re hanging out more and more.

50. He sleeps over. Tehehehe. An adult sleepover. Very mature Miranda…

51. He starts leaving things at my place — a tooth brush, a clean pair of underwear. He brings the coffee he likes and stores it in my cupboard. Like, does this ever really happen though? Never. The tell-tale sign is usually the girl leaving the bobby pins at the guys place.

52. He’s my boyfriend! Like official boyfriend anyway. I considered him mine after the second date. HAHAH Bitch, you crazy.

53. Where did you two meet?

54. lol.

55. Do we tell the truth or do we lie and say “mutual friends”?

55.1. Secret desire is not to meet anyone awesome on tinder so the meet-cute shared at your wedding doesn’t revolve around an app designed for getting laid.

56. Maybe online dating isn’t so bad after all.

57. Ok we’ve been dating for [insert length of time] now…why are you still on Tinder/Hinge/OkCupid/Grindr/Match? Should I still be too??

58. Hmmm.

59. When it ends — if it does — repeat 1-58. It’s back to the notification screen.

So, thought catalog got it pretty spot on…more or less.

Agreed. They did really well in the beginning, but lost me in that last part. If we successfully found someone on tinder, we probably wouldn’t be here right now writing this post.

At least there’s comfort in knowing that although online dating is a huge fail, at least we’re not failing alone. 

Yea…cuz you can really cuddle up with the idea of not failing alone on a Saturday night…

Preach sista. Till next time, this has been Our Two Sense!

Mr. Chace Crawford

Carrie – Alongside my full-time position as an administrative assistant for a small private investment company, I decided I needed a fun job because how blah does that first title sound? I was hired at an organic burger shop as a ~*~Bartender-/Slash/-Server~*~.

Starting a new job is always a little overwhelming, especially at a restaurant gig. There are so many new names, new menu items to learn, and as a bartender and server, I had to learn double the number of duties. It makes it three times as hard when three out of four of your male co-workers on bar are SO FREAKING HOT.

I am one of two lady bartenders so the majority of the time, I am working with these dudes. A young female customer was chatting me up over a take-out menu, telling me she was a regular before she gushed, “you know, one thing I’ve noticed is that everyone who works here is extremely attractive.” I thanked her modestly, trying not to let it go to my head while simultaneously flipping my hair and doing a mental “Fabulous Girl with Palm Out” Emoji. Then, to burst that bubble, she finished with a… “especially the male bartenders.” While there is a sarcastic, funny one and an Australian sweetheart, the one I (along with many female customers) vie for is Mr. Chace Crawford.

Tortured and brooding, he is an artist by day and bartender by night (or sometimes the other way around). I’ll admit it: I’ve learned this by stalking him on his very private social media platforms and then casually finding out through strategic segues in my brief working conversations like “I hear that’s big in London! Oh you lived in London? I didn’t realize!”

My first training shift, dressed up in a grungy black t-shirt and too-small Vans, I walked into the shop and met this 6’2” Adonis feeling more inadequate than ever. His chiseled face and sullen demeanor look freakishly similar to Nate Archibald from Gossip Girl. He did not smile nor greet me, unlike everyone else, and this made me want him more because I am perpetually attracted to douchebags and the one I can’t have. It wasn’t until about halfway through the shift when he started to flirt with me, teaching me how to make a drink with the shaker, hands on hip and being like “you like to shake it, huh?” His eye crinkle, his smirk, his pretty-boy face: Chace Crawford man, Chace written all over it. I swooned and all I could insecurely think about was my less-than toned arms jiggling while I shook the drink up.

In contrast to my one week relationships from Tinder, this has been a turtle race for the past month that I’ve worked there. From casually walking in when he’s on shift to pick up my cheque (in my defense, he is always working when I’m not at my other job) to being sexiled at the restaurant by my sister late at night on a Sunday when not very much else is opened and he’s working, my interactions with him have been essentially non-existent.

One week, I happened to see him twice and he was like “are you mustering the courage to ask me out?” I obviously panicked and muttered, “No, just here to pick up my take-out.” I also forgot to mention that I had decided to place my pick-up order under the name Hummus. Yup, Hummus. He said, “Oh you’re the milkshake for Hummus?” – Devastation –

Another example via text:
Me: Hey Chace, I owe you $3.50 from tip-out. Don’t let me forget!
Him: Nope don’t worry.
Me: but that’s like two weeks of Netflix! Haha k thanks.

Oh, sorry, I forgot this was supposed to be a blog where shit with guys happened.

Well that’s EXACTLY the way I feel too… but I think we’re making slow progress. The most recent shift working with him, I was chatting with one of the managers about some tension between me and my parents, (you know that moment when you’re mature enough to realize how you politically differ from your parent’s values?) and he overheard. Later, when we were one-on-one (with him coming up to me, mind you), he opened up to me about his troubled past and parental drama as well. You can tell he’s kind of guarded. He volunteered the information but suddenly couldn’t make eye contact with me and was fumbling around with the cutlery. I called him out on it, saying “aw I like that you’re opening up to me right now but you can’t even fully commit to that cuz you’re distracting yourself with the take-out right now.” He actually blushed so that’s a personal victory in my books. I’ve heard from the Aussie that he’s quite the player/ladies’ man and you can definitely tell, even without a fukboi radar as good as mine. While we generally have some sassy banter and flirtation (he told me he’s eaten a girl out with honey, I told him there’s nothing more attractive to me than watching a man make coffee WHILE he was stirring his coffee), it was the first time we connected on a deeper level.

After that, he made sure to bump into me or push me or kick me in the butt every time we walked past each other after, kind of like a little schoolboy pulling the pigtails of his crush. That means we’re like married now, no? No? -Sigh- I guess I’ll always be in love with the Chace chase (see what I did there?).

Update: Getting drunk with one of the managers after work on a Saturday led to a conversation that I would totally do Chace only for me to find out he had been fired earlier that evening. Oh and he has a girlfriend. Back to [] 1.

Mr. Economics

Charlotte – I’m usually obsessed with the idea of finding love. I want a boyfriend, something steady and secure. But this summer was different. For the first time it wasn’t about landing “the perfect guy” but instead just landing a quick bang. It was the summer of fun.

After spending a couple of months backpacking Europe, indulging in the sights, food and (most importantly) men, I came back to Toronto craving male attention more so than ever before. So, I ventured out to my old stomping grounds, because what better place to find a suitable hookup than my old university town.

At a kegger this handsome guy caught my eye. I had seen him before but I didn’t think he knew who I was. A little bit of background… he had tutored me in econ once, and while I should have been listening to him lecture, I was thinking about all the raunchy stuff we could have been doing in that classroom instead. Now Mr. Economics was standing four feet away from me, wearing sunglasses even though the sun has gone down. I took the opportunity to strike up a conversation by basically telling him he looks like a moron…Don’t ask me how but it worked.

A couple weeks later we went on a date. He picked me up in an Uber and took me to some super hipster place for food. Honestly, I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed a first date that much. I could not stop laughing! He was so funny, quirky and quick with his remarks.

I was new to downtown living at the time, so he decided to show me around Ossington where we proceeded to grab a drink… well more like six. After feeding me superb food, making me laugh nonstop and getting me perfectly drunk, I thought it was appropriate to bring him home.

Let’s just say we meshed well, really well. This continued for another few dates: delicious food, fantastic conversation and probably one of the best sexual experiences I’ve ever had. I thought everything was moving along, what we had going was perfect!

Date number four came around and we had barely spoken during the week so I had a feeling that something was off. I like to think my intuition is pretty spot on, and if I feel like something is off it usually is. Once again, I was right.

We went on our date and it was fun, not as much fun as previous ones but great nonetheless. He walked me home and kind of just stood awkwardly for a moment so I formally invited him in, although I thought that was assumed at that point. He came in and instead of throwing me on the bed, as per the usual, he uncomfortably sat down on my chair as I sat on the bed. At this point I’m thinking, “this is strange… did I do something wrong?” We watched a few funny videos and things seem as though they are looking up, and I thought that maybe he’d finally join me on the bed. At the point when I’m ready to pounce, he suddenly gets up and says he has to go.

That’s the last time we hung out. When I confronted him he just made up some bullshit excuse about work and needing to get some chores done. Yah right, the day a guy puts chores over sex is the day that fling has flung.

A couple of weeks later I found out he’d gotten a new job in New York. Not sure if that influenced his decision for bolting out of my room that day but silly man, if you had just been honest we could have taken a step back from the dates and a step forward on the intimacy.

Why are men so stupid?

Mr. Netflix and Chill Out!

Samantha – Recently, a guy that I’d met during first year at university started chatting me up on tinder. We quickly progressed to texting and Snapchat (hehe), and things were flooowwin’. The only crappy thing about him was that he lived about 30 minutes down the highway, but hey, a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do. Though I don’t have much experience with “tinder kills” (/ˈtindər kil/ – meeting up with a match for the sole purpose of hooking up), our late-night tryst was surprisingly comfortable, and “netflix and chillin” was not nearly as awkward as I anticipated it being. I left his house feeling respected and satisfied…what more could you ask for from a random hookup?

We made plans for a week later, but just my luck, I managed to catch the flu in between our two “dates”. By the time I was supposed to head over I was not feeling all that hot – unless you count my fever. I warned him that I was still sick and that we should just reschedule, but he persisted and said to come over anyway. “Who knows”, I thought, “This could make me feel better…doesn’t fooling around usually cure headaches?” I should not go into medicine.

I made the trek over to his place and like last time, we went straight to his bed upon my arrival. Only this time I had to get up every 10 – 15 minutes to blow my nose so I could continue breathing…sexy stuff, I know. He puts on Avengers 2 and I was thinking that this would be great, I’d make some comment about how hot Chris Evans is, and after about 15 minutes we’d get to it.

But no. Maybe my intentions weren’t explicit…maybe he was really into the movie…or maybe, just maybe he shouldn’t have invited over the stuffed-up girl mouth-breathing because that shit ain’t sexy. Whatever his reason, he did not make a move the entire time, and the Avengers is over two. hours. long. Even when I’d be SUPER obvious by playing with his beard or plainly informing him it was time to put down the laptop, he did not make a move.

Sadly, here’s where things actually get weird. By the end of the movie I am so congested from lying down that I cannot function. So, when the credits began to roll and suddenly he’s ready to catch the flu, I was soooo not down. When I told him this, he proceeded to pin me to the bed, pay me some attention and beg me to stay.

Now, up until this moment he had been asking me on real dates, texting me at the end of every day and overusing the word “Darlin'”. But the second I put my foot down (both figuratively and literally off the bed) he flipped a switch and went into full asshole mode. On my way out he wouldn’t look me in the eye, say a word or hug me when I left! Legit, I went in for a hug and he kept holding onto the doorframe while I awkwardly just leaned in against his body….

Look, I realize that the whole thing must have been very confusing for him. If a girl comes over at 8 pm, watches a two and a half hour movie and then decides to leave, then yes, that is a huge tease. HOWEVER, I warned him I was sick, made some shamefully obvious moves, and tried to act like a normal human when I realized it wasn’t going to happen. So no Sir, your behaviour is not pardoned and I left that night feeling the exact opposite to how I felt the first time: disrespected and horny.

I never expected to hear from the guy again but it turns out that he is just full of surprises. I still receive texts, Facebook messages, and even the occasional Snapchat looking for a quickie. I’m not too sure how many times I will have to say I am busy for him to realize that it’s not going to work out, but at least I don’t have to pay anymore highway toll charges!

From the Archives: Mr. Apartment

Miranda – This story takes place about 18 months ago. While it does not revolve around dating per say, it’s just too entertaining not to share.

During university, I packed up my life and moved to Denmark for a semester abroad. Before I go on, one thing you should know about me is that although I love having a good time, it is very rare for me to step out of my comfort zone. It would take a substantial amount of alcohol (read as: drowning in alcohol) and a hot foreign boy to get me doing something crazy. Fortunately, in this situation, I had both.

It all started at a club – classy, I know – we were celebrating my friend’s birthday the way we know best. Shortly after we arrived, we began talking to two guys and I found myself attracted to one of them. Long story short, we had a fun time dancing and making out at the club. By the end of the night, I knew I wanted to see him again in a casual context so we exchanged Facebook information. It was a good night and I was content.

Fast forward to a couple weeks later, we’d hung out a few more times and I really enjoyed his company. We knew this wouldn’t go anywhere, as I was leaving for the 6ix very shortly. Our last encounter before we left involved his friend’s house party. Originally, I wasn’t even going to go as I had just returned from a weekend trip to London earlier that day (London was a whole different experience in itself but I’ll write about it another time). However, even as exhausted and gross as I was, I decided to partake and thank god I did, or I wouldn’t be sharing this story right now.

At the house party, the only person I knew there was Mr. Apartment, and although everyone was friendly, we decided that hooking up was a better investment of our limited time instead of superficial socializing. To everyone else’s displeasure, we began to make out intensely on a stranger’s couch until we were asked multiple times to “get a room”. So, we went to do just that.

The only problem was neither of us lived in that apartment complex or even anywhere nearby. In our drunken state, we resolved to explore the complex for some space to, ahem, tend to our needs. Somehow we managed to get randomly buzzed up past security and took the elevator to the top floor. Now, to this day, I have no idea how Mr. Apartment had the skill set, sobriety and comprehension to manage this next part. With a quick swipe of his hand, he somehow opened the locked door to an apartment and my horrified/excited face was met with darkness. In our inebriated state, we decided that the living room would be the perfect place to have some fun. In fact, I should probably change Mr. Apartment’s name to the more accurate Mr. Not Your Apartment, but that’s just unnecessarily long.

Later, I got up to a grab a glass of water from the kitchen and at that moment, a bedroom door opened to reveal a confused, sleepy and angry man. He immediately grabbed the glass from my hand and proceeded to fire questions at us. Mr. Apartment was obviously very inexperienced in breaking and entering and began to answer every single question hopelessly honestly. However, as the decidedly more sober one, I smartened up, took control, and used my soft, seductive voice to apologize and coax the man out of calling the police (as he threatened to do moments before). My voice must’ve been liquid gold because somehow, we were able to leave the premise without so much as a slap on the wrist.  The night ended in hilarious banter and analysis of the event that had just passed, and we walked out of the apartment to find the sun coming up. With the remnants of our drunkenness rubbing off, we sought refuge in a nearby McDonalds.

So, as you can see, my experience with Mr. Apartment was pretty incredible. A tale of lust, adventure, immoral decisions and quick thinking that ended in a fairly happily ever after. Definitely not one of those stories you tell your grandchildren though.