Mr. Fast Food

They say that things happen when you’re not looking, and that’s exactly what happened to Mr. Fast food and I.

Flashback to the spring: work was busy, my social life was crowded, and I was counting down until my summer vaca, which was filled with travel. Needless to say my dating life was at a standstill and I had sworn off dating – “I’ll look for a boyfriend in September” is what I told my pestering friends and family and once they agreed to believe that, my life was in balance.

Until one day I came to work and my co-worker, giddy as ever, ran up to me announcing “I have a boy” with excitement I was ready to listen to her recent boy story, until she finished her thought and said “for you”. Before hearing anything about him I quickly told her thanks but no thanks that I was sticking with it and like I just said, I had sworn off dating and was not about to change my mind. Well this didn’t stop her and she continued with it, telling me about this guy: cute, smart and most importantly funny. Though my interest was peaked I stood my ground and told her I was not interested. She asked if she could give him my number to which I said (surprisingly) no, to which she proceeded with “okay I’ll message it to him” before I could even respond.

Before I knew it, Mr. Fast Food started messaging me and just as quickly my heart started fluttering. Some creeping confirmed he was cute, and his texts made me LOL (for real) on more than one occasion, that when he asked to hang out I was already hooked and I broke my own promise and said yes.

I met him for Sunday afternoon coffee, at which we both ordered hot chocolate (can you say match made in heaven), and maybe it was all the sugar but our energy was undeniable with a date lasting 3 hours and I still didn’t want it to end. He was confident, unfiltered and hilarious, he’s not an awkward person but the first date awkwardness vanished basically before the date began. He messaged me by the time I got home, and the chatting continued until he secured himself a second date and I made it very clear that I was very into him.

Our next few dates exploring the six consisted of dinners, ice cream dates, Jays games and patio drinks. Each one was more fun than the last and I was hooked. The best part about Mr fast food was that he loved to cook and he was great at it too. He really understood that the way to my heart was through my stomach and always cooked the best meals and treats – it might have been part of the reason I was always so excited to hang with him (just kidding…).

It was the most comfortable I’ve ever been so quickly with anyone that the sleepovers, hook ups and ~deep~ convos came earlier than I could have ever expected. I was so into him, and was so comfortable with him that he became my number 2 (meaning the second guy I’ve ever slept with) and it was great. Not only did I get to break my year-long dry spell (I know) but I overcame the idea that sex with someone new would be awkward and weird – but that it was fun and just as great as I remembered 😉

However, Mr. Fast Food became less available as he traded his job at the vet with cute dogs for a cook at a new burgers and fries joint (not complaining because I love both), but the change of hours made him less available which sucked because I was leaving the six for the summer. Our ‘pre me leaving’ hangouts were becoming less and less and also began consisting of more movies, and Netflix and chills without as much of the chill. I chalked it up to our post-work hangouts that left us tired and didn’t worry about it at all. I left for the Pacific Northwest not thinking much of it and speaking to Mr. fast food everyday – whether it be talk or FaceTime and even referred to him with the “boyfriend” term on the trip because that’s where I thought it was heading.

Once I came home after a month – I couldn’t find the excitement to see him. After a month apart I went over to see him (mostly out of obligation) and was not impressed when his idea for our date day was to “watch a movie and nap”. And by watch a movie I don’t mean “watch a movie ;)” but actually finish the film. Huh. I could tell the vibe was off and it felt like I was hanging with an old pal rather than a new flame and that wasn’t going to work for me. I did the cowardish thing and blamed a headache for the reason of my quick depart, frantically sped dialling my best friend that I didn’t like him anymore and didn’t know what to do. I successfully avoided his texts for an entire weekend until I had to face it on Monday – I needed to break up with Mr. fast food. He took it well and we parted ways – still on good terms talking about the CNE and tossing each other the occasional Instagram like (I mean what says “friendship” more than that?!)

Like fast food, I was addicted for a bit until I realized that this thing with Mr. Fast Food wasn’t sustainable. Though Mr. Fast Food was funny and nice, he lacked the ambition and drive that I needed for this to go “next level”. Needless to say my motto is still fries over guys, even if the guys come with fries.

Until next time!

 

 

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Mr. Arborist

To the man I ghosted

Dear Mr. Arborist,

This is the message I wish I could say directly to you. But, to preserve my dignity and refrain from getting further hurt, I’ll opt to share my thoughts in this way instead.

I’m not normally a ghoster, If anything, I’m usually on the receiving end of ghosting situations. It sucks, and it leaves you with so many unanswered questions and thoughts. I don’t know if this will help me in terms of closure, but it seems like a better alternative than the long, drawn out closure of time. So, yes let’s say this is my way of gaining closure from my experience with you.

Essentially, I’m choosing to not respond to your last messages due to both mistakes you’ve made and mistakes I’ve made.

Mistakes you’ve made:

You breadcrumbed me. You did not value or respect my time and made minimal efforts to contact and set up plans to see me. I see that now in hindsight. I told you that I’d like you to communicate more clearly and you said you would, but it only got worse from there. I wouldn’t hear from you for days, and your response time was every 12-24 hours. I don’t know if it was you playing it cool or you just didn’t care enough. While our time together was fun, as soon as I left I was felt with anxiety and insecurity because your attention to me was negligible.

You bailed on me. Again, I was the one to push the plan but you shouldn’t have said yes if you were never going to come, and on a Saturday night no less. You didn’t even text me that you were too tired, you just never showed. I had a creeping feeling that I wouldn’t’ see you that night, but that just shows how little I trusted you to follow through. Furthermore, your inability to apologize or make amends just showed me how little it mattered to you.

Mistakes I’ve made:

I fell too fast. And therefore I liked you before really getting to know you. This isn’t the first time it’s happened but I’ll try my damnest to not let it happen again. I projected my feelings onto you and was naïve in believing you had a high level of interest in me. If I’m reading between the lines now (or lack of lines, because you’re an absolute shit texter), I should have understood that your inability to communicate and pursue me was reflective of how little you liked me at the time.

I pursued you. I gave into my emotions and was not patient enough for you to ask me out again. I made the move, made the plans, and made it evident how much I liked you based on my persistence. When you didn’t answer my texts, I called you. And when you agreed to meet me, I foolishly interpreted that as you showing a strong interest. Of course, this was early days, and like anything good, it needs to build over time but I never let your feelings grow. I suffocated them with my desires, demands and wishes.

The reason why you’re not hearing this from me in person or in text is not because I don’t think you deserve to hear it, but because I don’t have the strength to deal with whatever response you have. I like you still, and you will tell me that you’ll change or be better but it’s too late. I’m done going through these cycle of emotions and it’s not fair for me to ask from you to change, especially if you don’t like me as I do you.

Keep climbing them trees, Mr. Arborist.

Miranda


Now, I know that this was quite a dramatic post and read. Especially for a fling that didn’t even last a month but this experience really impacted me in terms of becoming aware of my dating style and vicious cycle of mistakes. I’m really starting to see that these trends of meeting “bad guys” is not on them, but on me. I don’t believe Mr. Arborist was a bad guy – I don’t even think “bad guys” really exist in the sense that girls make them out to be. But I made decisions that caused him to take advantage of and act in a selfish way that would unknowingly hurt me. It’s like they say “fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.” Let’s hope there’s not a third.

 

Internal Affairs: Mr. Man

This is a post about nothing. Well, not nothing per say, but it’s pretty much a nothing that I hope turns into a something.
Businessman_alone.jpg

 

Let’s flash back about a month or so. It’s the end of July, the dog days of summer are upon us and Samantha is feeling randy and restless.  Having been occupied text-ually (sexual/texting hybrid, copyright ME) by UK Bae and Senor San Fran for the majority of June, I hadn’t been on the hunt for a summer fling like I normally would be. But by July I’d shed myself of the international baggage and was open to something new and a little more local.

Cue Mr. Man, as he can only be described, because that is exactly what he is…a man. In particular, a 6″4, good looking, snappy dressing, EXECUTIVE IN MY OFFICE, 41 year old man…I’m in trouble.

It all started at an office karaoke night when I walked up to Mr. Man standing with my friend Adam and he offered to buy me a drink. Adam thought he was hitting on me and quickly made himself scarce. Truthfully, the drinks were $3 and I think he was just being friendly, but we chatted briefly until the convo lost steam and then parted ways. Innocuous enough.

The next night I attended another work friend’s 40th birthday party, because I’m seeeewww matoor with my many older friends. I show up and see a couple familiar faces, including Mr. Man’s. I didn’t think anything of the night prior but then he came up to chat to me, then again and then a third time…until all of a sudden he was ready to leave. In classic Samantha style I had just taken a huge bite of a caprese salad (which was really just cheese and basil on top of a tomato) and as I bit into it the tomato juice ran all down my hand. It was at this very moment that Mr. Man came over to say goodbye. Before I could do anything he had clasped my hands between his and I could FEEL the wet, tomato-ey slime smooshed between us as he looked into my eyes and told me that he’d see me soon.  Romance amirite? There’s NO WAY he didn’t feel it and I can only imagine that my face resembled the colour of the fruit that was responsible for my shame.

The following Monday I shared the details of the tomato story with Adam, who validated that yes, I am a total embarrassment. When he asked if there was a vibe between us I said that I had totally felt a spark, but how often do karaoke work nights and friends’ 40th bdays coincide? Thinking this was likely a one off I didn’t give it much thought.

That Thursday I had organized after work drinks with some friends and ran into Mr. Man on our way out the door. He joined us for the drinks and this is where things (thankfully) progressed past tomato fingers. We talked alllllll night long and as the number of people at drinks dwindled we showed no sign of stopping. Soon enough only the two of us were left chatting comfortably at the bar. Eventually he asked “So what do you want to do?” To which I responded “Well I guess we should head home”. He replied “I meant with your life, but ya sure”. He paid our bill and we headed out, walking home in the same direction. 5 minutes down the road we passed another bar and he asked if I wanted to go in. Hell yes I did. I was squealing (internally) at the ridiculousness of the situation, feeling like the star of some over the top, cheesy romcom that ends with a steamy affair in a fancy boardroom – well, that was my hope for our ending anyway.

We spent the next two hours at the new bar enjoying ourselves and discussing everything under the sun. Honestly, if it had been a legitimate date it would’ve been one of the best I’d been on in a friggen long time. At one point he even said “I’ve asked you all my first date questions” as we’d veered FAR from work-related topics. Not once did it feel weird that there is a significant age gap between us or did he act like a condescending executive. In fact, we had a chemistry and banter that I know from going on my fair share of dates is not something you can force, it’s either there or it’s not…and boy was it was there. To me, the air felt electric and it was a very unusual and exciting feeling.

The night ended with a short lived visit to his apartment…it’s a gorgeous place with an incredible view of the city and I couldn’t believe the situation I had found myself in. As I stood nervously on his balcony looking anywhere but his eyes he asked if I wanted anything, and OMG did I ever…I couldn’t very well ask for what I actually wanted so instead I told him that I had an important meeting the following day (which I did) and as it was already past midnight we hugged goodbye and that was that. TRAGIC.

Since that night I have developed a crush in every sense of the word. We spend a ton of time together during work, sometimes playing hooky for hours at a time to “discuss my resume” (with 5 minutes dedicated to productivity and the rest reserved for shooting the shit). I even went on an almost 3 week trip to South America (see Unluck of the Irish and Mr. Laid in the Loo) but the day I got back we spent all afternoon chatting about dating and relationships. We click soooo well it’s insane and I am ridiculously attracted to him. As someone who is usually quick to jump the gun and get a guy in bed the tension is legit killing me and makes me want him 1000x more. I’ve even tried to distract myself by going out with other men but have only reaffirmed that my spark with Mr. Man feels more like lightening compared to first date static electricity.

All this being said I have a sneaking suspicion that this “thing” is going nowhere. It seems completely evident to me (and to Adam, who knows every detail of this little affair) that there is some sort of attraction here but maybe my crush is clouding my judgment. After all, I am a normal woman with a very active set of hormones, so whenever we speak rationality flies out the window and all my thoughts are replaced with “TAKE ME NOW”. Perhaps we actually have a 90% professional relationship and the cheesy romcom I referred to earlier is no more than a fictitious daydream perpetuated by workplace boredom and fifty shades fantasies…I mean, I definitely toe the line between what is appropriate and what is very much not but I doubt he’s going to cross it. Maybe it’s that I’m fifteen years younger, maybe it’s that he’s an exec and I’m far from it or maybe it’s something else entirely…whatever the reason I can’t see a scenario in which this ends with a bang instead of a bust.

End of the day I have no complaints. Despite the fact that I will probably come out of this looking like a silly little girl crushing on the handsome older man, it’s kinda fun being all consumed in this way and I haven’t actually had interest in someone for a long time. I have no idea how things will end up but the one thing I can guarantee is that I’ll be here to document it all, the good, the bad and the downright embarrasing.

You know you love me, xoxo…Samantha Jones.

How I went from a 1 to a 9 in less than a year…

Oh hey there people of the interwebs. Miss me much? I think according to my last blog post “6ixin like a Vixen” it’s been just over a year since we’ve last spoken.

Don’t get me wrong – it’s not like my life hasn’t been eventful or lacking of stories to share, in fact it’s been quite the opposite, I’ve just been lazy AF to write them down. In fact, Sam constantly berates me on getting my shit together but meh, I’ve just been doing my thing.

So, instead of going over every individual encounter I’ve had with a man in the last year, I’ll do a broader overview with some key highlights and explain to you how I went from a 1 to a 9 in record time.

Now now, I’m not saying I’m a hideous person that’s somehow blossomed into a beautiful, exotic flower. Even though I’d like to think I age like fine wine. This is not the kind of number I’m talking about here. These numbers represent the amount of men I’ve slept with. I know, sounds a bit ridiculous right? Why the sudden surge? What changed in me that triggered this intense frequency of sexual encounters?

Before I continue, let me back track a little to give you some context. This might be a little TMI but hey, that’s what this blog’s for isn’t it? Before this year, I had only had sex with one partner – and that was over 3 fucking years ago. I know, just imagine at this point my vagina is full of cobwebs and skeletons of non-existent partners past. It was with my first (and only) boyfriend and it was painful AF. He was patient and slow with me but the pain would not cease even after multiple sessions. Unfortunately (as is everything in my life), shortly after we got together I left for an international exchange, therefore halting any possibility of regular sex and practice. Ever since, I have not dated anyone long enough to feel comfortable trying the whole sex thing over again. The fear of the potential pain has stopped me from casual hook ups as well because I fully knew it would not end well for either of us. I wanted to meet someone that I trusted and would be patient for me, and that never happened.

So, for my 2017 New Year’s Resolutions, I wanted to take matter into my own hands. I vowed to myself that sometime this year, I would put myself out there to try having sex once again. I did not want to play victim to the pain as I felt it was limiting me from potential encounters and opportunities. I’m not saying this is the best of right way to go about it for anyone who has had my issue, but it was my own personal mission.

Fast forward to February this year, I go on a date with a guy from OkCupid – hot but not much more than that. However, I was attracted to him and he was quick to make a move for a first kiss in the middle of our date. Our second date quickly escalated to me going back to his place. This wasn’t the guy I was planning to break my born-again virginity with, as my plan was to only do max 3rd base type activities, but one thing led to another and I found myself having sex for the first time in years. It was painful but manageable compared to how I last remembered. In fact, we engaged in a second round and I actually started to find myself enjoying it. I left with a smile on my face. I was so proud that I could check it off my resolution list – and so early in February no less! It wasn’t how I planned on it going down but it worked for me.

Without going into much more detail, let me provide a high-level description of guys number 2-9 (I keep a laundry list of them because my memory is terrible, also note this list does not include other types of hookups):

  1. Mr. Hockey. Hot white guy – typical small town hockey buff, quick to enter my life and quick to leave it. Forever grateful to him for re-initiating me into the “penis in vagina” world.
  2. Mr. Nigerian Cunnilingus. Torontonion working in Nigeria visiting the 6ix for vacation. It was a two week fling with the pretense of a faux-lationship (read: fake relationship). But man he loved going down and damn was he good at it – I rarely even saw him come up for air. When he left for Nigeria, I did not feel the need to continue talking to him. Random update: saw him a few days ago in my neighbourhood with a new chick on his arm. My social media stalking abilities determine he has quit his job and moved back to Toronto with her. Which is fine by me, just stay out of my hood please.
  3. Mr. Superman. Impromptu night out with my best friend after a failed Tinder date earlier that day turned into meeting a cute guy with a Superman ringlet curl. Shameless dancing and obnoxious making out turned into exchanging numbers. Drinks later that week followed by a few renditions of rough sex. What I learned from that: hair pulling? Yes. Choking? No thanks.
  4. Mr. Slide into his DMs. Tried messaging the guy on OkCupid but his inbox was full (too popular I guess) so I did the creepy thing and found his Instagram and DM’d him there. Started up a conversation and we met up. 2nd date we hooked up after a drunken night out but my cooch was dried out and it was a bit sandpaper-y. Learnings: girls can also get whiskey dick.
  5. Mr. Vegan-not-so-vegan. First of two Costa Rican hookups on my first solo adventure (another resolution of mine for this year that I checked off). Cue me: girl standing outside of the bar by herself at 3am gorging fried chicken as if my life depended on it. Cue him: Venezuelan dude with a scooter who convinces me to hop on it where he takes me to his vegan restaurant and feeds me a peanut butter cookie and kombucha before plowing me roughly in his random bedroom apartment upstairs. Also found out he wasn’t vegan but opened it solely for the business opportunity. 10/10 would eat the cookie again. 0/10 would hookup with him again.
  6. Mr. Sex-ish On the Beach. Costa Rican hookup number two. Matched on Tinder and after meeting a guy just before (who I was not down for), I quickly arranged to meet this other one at the bar. We quickly found ourselves both very attracted to each other (alcohol and other substances may have been a factor) and left the bar together shortly after. However, this was not before stopping at my hostel and dropping off my stuff where I then made out and was fingered by a hot Australian in the hostel bed next to mine, while the other guy was waiting for me patiently in the lobby unknowingly. Then we went to the beach to have failed sex (I’m 5’3 and he’s 6’3 so it did not work) before he took me back to his Airbnb and we had a great night (and morning) of steamy shindigs.
  7. Mr. Gaydar. Received a random message from a guy that was my roommate’s then boyfriend (they are no longer together) while I was on my international exchange. He was visiting the 6ix and wanted to catchup 3 years later and have me show him around. There was no interest or chemistry when I first met him so I thought it would just be a random fun thing to do. What surprised me was how much more attractive he’s become, especially with his charming British accent. We did a gym session together where my gay friend hit on him thinking he was gay. Took him out with some friends who then all abandoned us by the time we reached the bar. At this point the only left for us to do was makeup and for me to take him back home. Fun fact: later found out he didn’t make a move on me earlier because he thought previous gay friend was hitting on me. Oh, if only he knew it was the other way around.
  8. Mr. Arborist – After a 4 month dry spell from Mr. Gaydar, finally got my feet (read: nether region) wet with this guy I met from Tinder. He is also my current thing and biggest torture/stress of life and reminds me why I decided to stay single for a few months after Costa Rica. He’s different from anyone that I’ve ever met before in terms of looks and demeanor, but I’m finding myself very attracted to him. And he climbs trees for a living, so I guess that’s cool too.

As you can see, I’ve had a variety of encounters with guys over the last 8 months. While not all of them were positive experiences, I’ve learned a lot about myself and my sexuality. However, none of these were relationship-driven encounters so I’m still looking to really understand my body with a more consistent partner. But I think in terms of accomplishing my resolutions, I did that, and then some.

And that brings us back to where we are today…just fresh into the dating scene and about to subject myself to a whole other round of blog-worthy stories. Hopefully you’ll hear from me soon, but I wouldn’t count on it.

 

Mr. Laid in the Loo

Our lovely, loyal followers already know that Sam and Pam were just in South Am kicking ass and taking names  hiking mountains and running from the Irish. We were on the tail end of our trip and to that point everything had been perfect, except for one little thing…I was missing a classic Sam story for the blog! No one had really piqued my interest all that much and so around the time that I’d turned down pink shirt, I decided that this trip would be focused on hiking instead of hooking up. Well, you know what they say about life right? It’s what happens when you’re busy making plans, and I soon learned that these two things were not mutually exclusive.

It was our last night in Cusco with an early flight to Lima the next day, so Pam and I weren’t drinking when we went down to the hostel bar. Instead we focused on dancing like no one was watching with a friend we’d made earlier in the trip. We were having a blast acting like fools when I noticed a 6”4ish blonde and his shorter, also blonde friend looking our way. I locked eyes with him for a second, smiled, then immediately turned back around. Next thing I know the blondies had joined our dance party, followed by a 6”4ish brunette and a couple other stragglers all looking to break it down on the D floor.

Later that night a (platonic) friend of mine also in town from the 6ix met us at the bar with some friends in tow. He too is 6”4ish and we chatted a bit, catching up on the fun we’d been having on our respective trips. My next few hours flew by, mainly consisting of extremely aggressive vogueing, scream-singing Snoop D.O. Double G, and ping-ponging between 3 men over 6″4. I had died and gone to heaven. When my platonic pal went to find his buddies later on that night I focused my attention on sussing out the vibe of both Blondie and Brunette. I couldn’t really decide between the two, both were tall, cute and British,  so just continued to wheel the two of them and waited to see where the night would take me…Eventually I noticed that whenever the brunette wasn’t around I would try to catch his attention, so I settled my sights on him as it seemed my subconscious was making a decision on my behalf.

We started dancing and doing that thing where you “accidentally” bump into each other often enough to smoothly transition to handholding. Then you keep on dancing with physical contact until you can transition to the classic grind, which soon evolves to full on making out…you know that move, right? Shortly after that first kiss Blondie told the brunette that he was leaving for the night. Now, I have no definitive proof of whether or not his departure had anything to do with me, but he didn’t say goodbye despite me standing right there, so let’s just say that maybe he didn’t love being blown off. “Oh well”, I thought, I’d made my choice and without distractions from my tall platonic friend or the tall blonde friend it was time to crank it up a notch.

We kept dancing and kissing, but I eventually tired of the cigarette smell in the bar and suggested we go outside. We headed to some loungers under the stars but in my mind I already knew where this little make out sesh would likely end up…in another hostel bathroom. I know, I KNOW! It is a ridiculous trend to have your brand be “hooks up in hostel bathrooms” but what was I to do??? When you’re both staying in the hostel your options are extremely limited so we decided on a stall and immediately got naked. This guy was packing heat and was very eager to please, which is an excellent combo if I do say so myself. I was feeling breathless but couldn’t tell if it was because of our amazing chemistry of the fact that we were 3500 meters above sea level. Whether or not it was aided by the altitude  the whole thing was insanely hot, even with me maneuvering my ass up and down while simultaneously preventing our clothes from peeking out from under the stall.

My attempts were futile and in the midst of our bathroom bang there was a rap on the door from Security. Giggling like idiots we quickly dressed and left the bathroom. Luckily no sex police were waiting to take us away  and we only had to contend with the all-knowing stares of other hostel goers sitting just outside the bathroom. Hey, we’d just had pretty phenomenal sex in there so at least they got a good show. In all the excitement I managed to lose an earring and he was down one t-shirt and a pair of boxers but we both knew the night was not over. We headed back to our lounger chairs still giggling and still horny, so we smoked a little weed and then headed up to my room hoping everyone in there would be asleep (I was in a 6-room dorm and he was in a 12, so it was a lesser of 2 evils).

The rest of the night was absolutely amazing and according to my fitbit I got very little sleep ;). You’d be surprised about how much room you actually have on a hostel bed and we definitely made the most of it. As I sat on top of him with no attempt to hide anything I wondered, “had I become an exhibitionist?” This thought didn’t last long even if my guy did (hehe) and we hooked up again the next morning after what can only be described as a nap, then I headed for the airport with a kiss goodbye. Luckily upon debriefing with Pam she said that she hadn’t heard anything from the night before, and while I can’t say the same for the restless dude above my bed, I’d already landed in Lima before I had to face any potential consequences.

So there you have it. For someone who didn’t expect to have any sort of night at all, this screamed of classic Samantha (even if I personally had to keep the screams to a minimum). The whole night was spontaneous, sexy, a little slooty and involved hostel bathrooms. It’s a strange brand, but if it means I continue having fun experiences with interesting people in beautiful places then I say bring on the bathrooms!

The Unluck of the Irish

It was the vacation we were highly anticipating – Sam and I were off  to South America for three weeks to hike, relax and of course find some blog stories. In typical Pam fashion, this story is very me (so basically rated PG) it still has some giggles and fun in it, and sorts of selective irresponsibility – at least more than I’m used to.

Our story starts with Sam and I sitting in a café enjoying lake views a few days into our travels. As we finished, we noticed these two adorable boys walk in and sit at the table beside us. Sam and I eyed each other, having not really met any cool and cute English speaking friends yet we saw this as our perfect opportunity. We mustered up the courage and played dumb asking them about their accents (though they were unmistakably Irish), our small talk opener landed them a seat at our table and we began chatting. The boys were cute and fun, maybe a little young for us but we rolled with it because they were the most entertaining people that we had met. A bit of chatting later, and they asked our plans for the night. Since we were in a pretty low pro city with very minimal nightlife, their offer to watch the sunset with a joint sounded like a perfect night.

We had planned to watch the sunset from our hotel, but once we arrived we saw that a big hill was blocking our view. Our one Irish friend had a wonderful idea (I say with sarcasm) to run up and watch it from the top of the hill mountain. Sam was super into the idea and ran ahead, leaving me and my Irish boy at the bottom. This is where I curse Sam – being not dressed and ready for the hike and also not yet acclimatized to the 3800 masl altitude and now I had to “hike cute” with this boy. My hiking cute thing didn’t last long, but as I walked my Irish friend stayed sweet, even holding my hand parts of the way up and chatting with me. Eventually, feeling too focused to just make it up, I sent the Irish boy up and slowly made it up after them, just making it in time for the sunset. We enjoyed the chill vibes and sunset and had a lot of fun chatting these new Irish friends – Sam and I both wondering if we’d make it a blog post even though they were a few years younger. Once we finally made it down (try hiking an uneven path down a mountain in the dark), we discussed what to do next. Maybe it was everyone’s own confusion, or the fact we were making plans with young Irish boys but we couldn’t manage to make solidified plans with our new friends – meaning that our night was over.

We did manage to say bye to our new friends the next day – hearing that they proceeded to stay in their room and get “fucked up” for the duration of the night, while Sam and I opted for some Netflix and sleep. Maybe better off we didn’t end up hanging out with them, but still gave us a fun/cute adventure and set the tone for our love of Irish friends.

Which leads me to our next eventful evening at a hostel bar. Sam and I were expecting (and I was surprisingly ready for) a fun and wild night, so we were hoping that the hostel would deliver. After sitting with a few friends we made, Sam and I started scoping the bar for hot boys – hopefully a duo. Sam pointed out the hot guy in the pink shirt, and my eyes immediately darted to his friend and it was a go. We jumped in at the opportunity to comment about the glitter on their faces, and found ourselves Irish boys 2.0. Sam again went for the tall brunette, as I chatted up the shorter blonde guy. Looked like we found our pots of gold, and stayed with them at the bar. Let me say, wheeling boys at the bar is definitely not my forte, so as Sam quickly and naturally chatted up her boy I was still awkward and very sober. Luckily (maybe?) for me, my Irish boy was nice and forward making it easy for me and I can say I was proud of myself for flirting back better than I usually ever do. Apparently, he got a good read on it too because without notice mid conversation he leaned in and began making out with me.

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I can’t remember my last bar make-out and for good reason – because I hated it. I could tell Sam had seen, and thought it was hilarious, as I tried to steer away from him before he could make out with me again. I did think he was cute, and maybe now wasn’t the opportune time to tell him that I don’t make out with boys in public bars. He went for it again and I kissed back a bit, but as Sam describes I basically stood there and let him make out with me. He then proceeded to ask if I wanted to go to the corridor. I don’t know what the hell he wanted to do there, but I saw it as my perfect out and proceeded to say “No thank you, I’m going to dance on the bar with Sam” and ran away.

So maybe all that glittered wasn’t gold that night, but it was one of my more scandalous evenings that now warrants a blog post. Shortly after finding Sam, we proceeded to leave but Sam’s Irish man wanted her to stay. After a quick dilemma, I sent her back to the bar to find her pot of gold, but he had taken it as a sign of disinterest and went along back to the end of the rainbow. Though Sam may describe it as an unsuccessful evening (or two), I figured it would be good content for a blog post – and also highlight our apparent interest in Irish boys (don’t be surprised when our next stories come from our vacation to Ireland…just kidding). But in typical Pam fashion, I had to share my “wild” nights abroad!

Mr. Special Ops

Carrie – When my friend offered me her place to stay in Seoul and my credit card supplied me with free flights, I impulsively booked my four Asian-metropolis trip for May: Tokyo, Shanghai, Busan and Seoul.

We met interesting people along the way, that’s for sure. One night in Tokyo, we ended up at as the only two girls at this karaoke bar, where I proceeded to get serenaded and dipped by the big, burly bartender to Enrique Iglesias’ “Hero” (song is forever ruined).

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Cue to my last weekend Seoul, where I develop what I will term “Seoul Goggles” which is essentially a “do it for the blog” mentality.

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I’m Single and I Love Valentine’s Day

Let me start off by saying that this wasn’t always the case. In fact, flashback to a year ago and this was basically polar opposite to how I was feeling. I broke up with my first real boyfriend, Mr. High School Crush, just a month before Valentines Day. My heartbreak was coinciding with (what felt like) the whole world beginning to be covered in hearts and declaration of love – basically everything that I was trying to hide from. As a recently single lady, I felt an urge to knock down all of the red and pink displays, rip down decorations that I saw and felt overwhelmingly compelled to either push or yell at couples, especially those showing PDA. Though in reality I did none of these things (except some eye-rolling and disgusted sounds at several couples) I felt like a monster who just hated anything that had to do with love and especially Valentines Day.

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I guess I felt worried to be spending the holiday alone, because the memories that I had made over the 3 years prior were engrained in my mind as what Valentines Day should be. A holiday full of romantic dinners and getaways, overly expensive roses and red lingerie. How the hell was I going to celebrate make it through that Valentines Day with these preconceived ideas in my head. There was no other way to say it except that Valentine’s Day made me sick.

Lucky for me, last year I not only learned how to celebrate Valentine’s Day, but I had the best Valentine’s by a long shot and the best part of all was that (no Mr. High School Crush and I did not get back together), I didn’t even have a boyfriend to celebrate with. With no boyfriend or just one assumed Valentine, my friends and family boosted my heartbreak by offering to be my Valentine. With multiple Valentine’s in my circle, though they pitied me for being single, there was a perk that I ended up with more chocolate than I could have imagined (definitely more chocolate than I ever got from a boyfriend) – it was already looking up. On the actual day, I had no more worry that I would be spending it alone because I got to celebrate my first “Galentine’s Day” which surpassed any Valentine’s date I’ve ever had. What could be better than a group of single girlfriends, LOTS of food, dessert and most importantly wine?! Thanks to my own friends and family I was able to not only make it through the most dreaded holiday of a single girl, but I actually and genuinely really enjoyed it.

Now I’m here. A year later. Still single, and I am excited for Valentine’s Day. Maybe it was last years festivities, or my year to reflect and think and be happy with my #singlestatus, but this year I am embracing the holiday in the most Hallmark love filled way you can imagine. Because that’s exactly what I am celebrating: LOVE. My life, as I’ve learned, is more full of love than it ever has been. I know that it’s cheesy, but as February rolled around I felt an urge to feel more loving to my friends and family, to myself and to my life. With hearts basically everywhere that you turn, it’s hard not to think about love, whether it’s romantic or not and to feel that uplifting loving vibe. To me, Valentine’s serves as a reminder to show the special people in your life that you love them. To indulge in sweets, make cards and show the people that you care about them how much you really do. I am excited for my second annual Galentines day and am secretly hoping that my friends and I stay single for a while so this tradition can continue (just kidding…sorry ladies). Maybe the girls in Sex and the City were right, and that our girlfriends really are our soulmates, and if so that is what we should be celebrating when it comes to celebrating love!  I am excited that I have SO many people to celebrate and am thankful that there’s a holiday to remind me to show how much I love and care about the people in my life. (Not to mention, the holiday continues to February 15 where all of the chocolate is discounted 😉 )

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I can now look at couples and instead of wanting to pull them apart or flip their table at a restaurant, I can be happy for people who are happy to be in love. Maybe because it makes me hopeful that my love is out there somewhere too, or that it shows me how beautiful and fun love can be! I am no longer a cynical love hating monster, but now I can actually listen to, and help, my friends think of the cutest most romantic Valentine’s gestures for their significant others without feeling queasy while we talk about it.

Love is everywhere this month whether we want to it to or not. And even if we don’t have that special someone to share the day with, we should be looking for all those special people that surround us with love on February 14th and the other 364 days of the year.

 

P.s. let me know how you’re celebrating this year I’m a sucker for a good Valentine’s story 😉

Bachelorette in Hell

 

Carrie – Move over Bachelor in Paradise, there’s a new show called Bachelorette in Hell and it is my love life. (That was cheesy, I apologize.)

Throughout the first few weeks of January, in order to get over my obsession with Mr. Heart Emoji, I distract myself with an app called Bumble where the girl has to talk to the guy first. Now, I’m pretty good with alluring men with one liners. In fact, I arrange three dates in one weekend.

Keeping em? That’s a different story (aka this blog post).

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Mr. Heart Emoji – Part Two

[Hey, if you haven’t read Part One, you might get confused. Click the link here!]

Carrie – In true blackout fashion, I remember saying “cheers” with my gal pal and Mr. Heart Emoji on our third round of tequila shots. Then not much more.

I am blackout at the pre but in cruel, cruel fashion, my brain can recall one interaction. Profusely flirting with Mr. Grilled Cheese, we end up as the only two people in the one of two rooms, probably because I was making everyone uncomfortable with my aggressive flirtation. (I was told later I was doing this IN FRONT OF Mr. Heart Emoji because I am a fuckgirl). I drunkenly confess to Mr. Grilled Cheese, “Well like you’re the last person I’ve slept with! Aren’t I the last person you’ve slept with?”

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I still cringe at how much of an embarrassment I like to make my life. Then he stutters “uhhhh” for approximately a minute. I save him by telling him I know I’m not, call him a manwhore, and top it off with a, “But I know you’re into me.” To my dismay, he answers, “A little bit.” Me: “A little bit?” “Yeah, a little bit.” I swear I probably would have mounted him right there if we weren’t in public cause I am such a horny little drunk.

I end up at a bar. How I got there, not too sure. As far as I’m concerned, Mr. Grilled Cheese was not there. I remember snippets of sitting in a booth with my gal pals and Mr. Heart Emoji, and also snippets of drinking water out of the bathroom faucet, just to prove that 23 is still not a classy age. I think I had fun and my Visa bill proves that.

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Accurate depiction of me receiving my visa bill.

Now the next bit is where it gets interesting. There is a 24 hour diner near the bars in Ottawa. At that point, I was not aware of this. (Now that I am, that Visa bill will only continue to grow.)

Mr. Heart Emoji and I wind up there. Alone. I deduce he must have asked me to go at 2 AM because I’m confused why we’re in a booth alone and none of our friends join us. But I happily order a $16 burger (one that I later proceed not to eat a single bite of) when a classmate shows up. Now let’s call him Tree cause he is ridiculously tall and dresses like a lumberjack. Tree starts by asking if he’s interrupting me and Mr. Heart Emoji. We say no, then he sits beside me and Tree asks, “but you guys are gonna bang tonight, right?”

Continue reading “Mr. Heart Emoji – Part Two”