Now that I am #singlewildandfree, and am excited to date through the six, I have come to the conclusion that I am now a dating rookie. Being with Mr.High School Crush for over two and a half years has left me off the market, and consequently removing flirting, swiping and casually hooking up – which is now territory that I am (soon to be) exploring
As a recently single woman, I must say that I’ve never been more excited. I mean, what are your early twenties for if not to make mistakes, have fun, kiss a few frogs (hopefully not too many) and one day (way later) find the prince. There were a few big factors that pushed me to the single side, notably the uncertainty of my future, and what I have coined the “musical chairs dilemma”: that sure, it seems like there’s lots of ‘chairs’ now and having one to sit in is great, but if you don’t want to sit in that chair for the rest of your life – it’s better to keep walking and looking for that chair you do love before it gets scooped up by someone else. Maybe it’s just an analogy that makes sense to me, but hopefully you can semi understand what I’m saying. That being said, I’m now walking around to the music and just scoping out the “chairs”( p.s. chairs is my metaphor for men). As I’m walking, and living the single life I have just a few questions to ponder (and if anyone knows any answers, that would be muchos appreciated), consider this my dating SOS.
- Are all dates going to be “Netflix and Chill?”
If the archived posts in this blog do not emphasize my concern, I’ll repeat it: do guys only want sex? I mean, I’m definitely not in the market for looking for a new boyfriend, but I’m also not looking for a one night stand. In the ideal world, finding a guy to go for some dinner dates, do some activities and THEN Netflix and chill would be great. Just curious if these types of guys actually exist, or if I’m in for a reality check.
- Where do you even meet these guys?!
Sucks for me, but I’ve already used my “tinder boyfriend” card, and feel a little weird about swiping again (I mean explaining it once was embarrassing, but kinda funny, but TWICE – maybe that would be a cause for concern). Mabye it’s the fact that I try to model my life after a Rom-com and expect my own John Cusack to find my number in my favourite book, the day that he is supposed to marry someone else (Serendipity reference – great movie) – but I want to have the “wow” moment. The convenience of tinder does have its draw, but meeting someone at a coffee shop, or walking the dog seems so much more romantic – but does that actually happen? Am I crazy to think that life will have the super cute guy that will be my next boyfriend waiting for me at a coffee shop, or is it more likely that he’s only a swipe right away?
- Is there a competition with my EX to find someone new faster?
Okay, I get it that this is kind of lame, and probably convinces everyone that I am not actually over it (I swear I am), but is it so wrong to want to find someone before he does? I mean if he moves on first, does that mean he’s over me and uh-oh if that sets me back, is it true that you always want what you can’t have?! Let’s hope not!
- How soon is too soon?
By this question I mean a few things, and each is making single me confused as hell! How soon is too soon to move on to a new fling/relationship/hookup. I know that there’s “rules” to getting over a break up (e.g. it should take half the time to move on to the next one), but what REALLY is acceptable aka when am I not a total beeyotch for texting or hooking up with someone new. That being said, how soon is too soon to hook up? I mean, after 2.5 years of being in a relationship, this single life also equates to a dry spell, and I’m not sure how long I can last – but I also don’t know how comfortable I am giving off the one-night-stand/hook-up only vibe. This struggle is seriously real.
- Will I EVER find another boyfriend?
Again, I’m not looking now, and I’m actually excited to do the whole casual thing but one day I’m going to want to not just date but be in a relationship. I’ve learned so much from my last relationship, that I now know what more I want, and also my absolute dealbreakers. I think I was picky before, but now I’m picky and certain about the qualities that make someone “boyfriend material”.
These are just some of the questions just pop into my mind as I begin my journey dating through the six. I’ve been out of the game for so long, and have wheels like a boat (you’ll laugh when you get it), so I’m sending out a serious SOS. There you have it – my dating anxieties, mind you, this is before I even start actually dating, so anticipate more questions and vents to help me learn to navigate this new found dating life in the six!
Carrie – There are many perks to being single. Guilt-free fantasizing about that cute guy in your elevator or the Adonis of a delivery man who comes by your office for starters. Who knows, either of these options could become a possible love interest. Another pro is being courted. While I may turn down guys, I will never turn down an opportunity of free drink and food. In fact, I flirt for food.
My question is: Is flirting for free food and drink ethical?
Continue reading “An Ethical Question: Flirting for Free Food & Drink”
Carrie – How do I begin to summarize the most complicated and confusing relationship that encompassed eight months of my life? Although it’s been a while since we last talked and nothing in particular brought him up, I still think of him in late hours of insomniac nights.
Let’s go back to January 2015. Mr. Mind-F*ckboy was essentially a one-night stand of a wild weekend gone awry. Newly single Carrie had just had her first overnighter with a stranger who departed with a “thanks but you know I’ll never see you again.” I suppose that’s what I wanted at the time, that’s why I chose this random out-of-town guy who was visiting the first week of my last semester of undergrad.
Flash forward to the next night and I felt a little confused and off-kilter from my first one night stand. My friend, Mr. Stanford Blach in fact, was going out and told me to join so I put on my glasses and granny panties in a preventative form of birth control. We get to the bar and I’m waiting with my friend’s boyfriend from Ottawa who sees his friend from high school. And he was HOT. We get introduced and I’ve never been so attracted to someone (other than Zac Efron) right off the bat. Later, sipping on my G&T, I spot Mr. MFB brooding in the corner as we make eye contact. He starts moving through a crowd in my direction and I frantically chug my drink in preparation. We hit it off with a surprisingly deep conversation that flowed from classic rock to hook up culture to volun-tourism to neoliberalism and I hadn’t felt that strong of a connection with anyone before. He asked to come home with me and I agreed, silently cursing myself for the granny panties.
Continue reading “From the Archives: Mr. Mind-F*ckboy”
You know when you’re in a situation and there’s no possibility of any hookup happening? Like when you’re vacationing at a cabin in the middle of buttfuck-nowhere-Quebec with your family. Ya, that was me over new years. I left two days after Mr. Lawyer happened and had already mentally prepped myself for a good week of family bonding and copious amounts of food, with no boys to distract me or qualm my ever rising sexual needs. But when does a plan ever work out how you imagined?
Turns out, one of my sisters invited her best friend, who then invited her boyfriend, who then invited his nephew. So, yes, there was a young Irish man that was unrelated to me (hence Mr. Lucky Charms) staying in the cabin. All of a sudden my new year’s resolution plans of being a good girl were squandered.
Mr. Lucky Charms was cute and dorky, glasses and all, and a charming Irish accent with which I only understood about 60% of his words. He was tall and had a lean build, but I was surprised to find out that he was pretty fit (more like discovered while we were in the hot tub). Even though he was on my radar, I never truly intended for anything to happen. I was surrounded by family after all and in a way, he’s a family friend. It was fun just thinking about hooking up with said foreign man while on vacation. The notion of it was exciting and risqué.
It wasn’t until the second half of the vacation, when I was given the task of giving every single family member one of my infamous massages that a story worthy of this blog began. Eventually, it was Mr. Lucky Charm’s turn. I lathered his back in a healthy dose of massage oil and dove in. Feeling a bit frisky (maybe from the spiked eggnog), I may have added a little bit extra to his massage experience and I’m pretty sure he got the hint. Later that evening, my family decided to make a small trip to Montreal to explore the city and check out the Christmas markets. On cue, both Mr. Lucky Charms and I both decided to stay in the cabin along with my sister’s boyfriend. I feigned tiredness but mostly I just wanted to see how far I could take it with the Irish guy and see if luck really was on my side.
After everyone had left, Mr. Lucky Charms and I hung out and gravitated to the hot tub where things really started getting hot and steamy. It was the first time I had done anything like that but I gotta say, there is something extremely hot about hooking up while it is -20 degrees Celsius in the middle of a pitch black forest with the stars twinkling above. I guess I can check that off my bucket list now. In fact, it was so cold that my hair had froze into icicles coming out of my head. On top of this, there was the added bonus and adrenaline rush with the risk of getting caught by my sister’s boyfriend who was just chilling a few feet from us inside. At one point we were so close to getting caught but somehow (at least to our knowledge) we managed to survive that. My family returned later that night and although they made some suspicious comments, we held our ground and their questions stopped.
It was a lot of fun and we decided to push our luck and try one more time the last night in the cabin. Unfortunately, the layout of this house was open concept and neither of us had a room to ourselves. At this point the only logical option was to wake up at 3am and hookup in the living room. The risk factor was off the charts as my dad was just sleeping down the hall but we managed to keep quiet and once again Mr. Lucky Charms lived up to his name.
The next day we all hopped into our cars and made the trek back to the 6ix. Mr. Lucky Charms was staying in Toronto for one more night before he flew back to Vancouver where he was working. Interestingly, he asked me to hang out for his last night. I agreed and we ended up having an enjoyable time doing the most stereotypical first date shenanigans you can think of: dinner, movie and playing pool. We held hands throughout even though we were both well-aware nothing would come out of it. I really do think he is a sweet guy and someone I would be open to dating but alas this will just remain an epic story about some vacation I had one time.
One thing is for sure though. The luck of the Irish is a real thing. I gotta get this shit bottled up.
Carrie – I was watching an episode of Chelsea Handler’s new Netflix Series, Chelsea Does Marriage, where she features testimonials from her friends, family and complete strangers (ie. BDSM threesomes) on marriage, love, and relationships. One of the couples says, “We met online like everyone these days.”
I looked over at my sister, who recently met her boyfriend on Bumble (you’re welcome for forcing you to get it one drunken night). I thought of all the couples getting together and it was one of three things: a) work/school, b) mutual friends, or c) online. When you live in a city as isolating as Toronto can be, dating apps might be your best option.
Continue reading “Why I gave up dating apps and I’m happier”
This story comes 4 days after Mr. Heteroflexible happened. I know- it was a bit of an extraordinarily busy week.
It was a Saturday and I was visiting my dad’s place outside the 6ix. My older sisters came to visit as well and I told them about some of my struggles as a single yuppie trying to find a man (hookup descriptions were excluded from this story to preserve a bit of my integrity). I showed them my profiles on OkC and Tinder and swiped a couple times to show them how it worked since they were both in their thirties and have never tried it. Later that day, one of my matches messaged and we talked for a bit before meeting for coffee that same day. I wouldn’t normally rush into things like that but one of the key pieces of advice from my sisters was to just act on things while they’re fresh. According to them it’s best not to wait, stall or talk over a period of days because it can waste time and cause unnecessary disappointment (story of my life right there).
Upon first impression, Mr. Lawyer was cocky, smart and a touch strange. He spoke softly and opened our intros with a rant as to why Toronto is not as great a city as we think. I might admit I got a bit defensive at this point because really, how dare he talk about the 6ix in that way? However, over the course of our talking, his personality started to grow on me. He was currently finishing up an MBA/Law degree and heading to Calgary in a few months to work for a top law firm in the gas and oil industry. Impressive, right? Overall, it was an okay date which essentially means I wasn’t repulsed by him by the end of it. I wasn’t particularly attracted to him so I didn’t plan to see him again or turn this into something. Except somehow I did…
Later that night I was out in Toronto with a friend and just as we were heading back from the club, Mr. Lawyer messages me. Turns out he too was in the city and needed a place to crash for the night. Me being the generous and thoughtful person I am (and also pretty drunk at this point), I kindly offered my sofa to him. When I got home with my friend, Mr. Lawyer was waiting by my door. We all stumbled in and he lit a joint for us to share. Thankfully, I was smart enough to only take one hit but even that was enough to make me officially crunk. My friend wasn’t so wise and shortly after, I found her lying on my sofa throwing up quite violently – it wasn’t a pretty sight. Note that this is the same sofa Mr. Lawyer was originally supposed to crash on.
Of course at this point the only logical thing to do after taking care of my friend is to invite Mr. Lawyer to my bed where there is plenty of room for him to rest his head on my queen bed. I’m sure you can see where this is going. Like a bad rom com, we started hooking up. My head was spinning and I’m pretty sure I was barely coherent but we ended up having a pretty good time. The next day he got up and left and we went on our merry way. I was not expecting for that night to happen, but in hindsight, I guess it all just fell into place. I didn’t plan on seeing him again after that, but he continued to text (rather, sext) me for a couple weeks trying to meetup again.
He was persistent and I guess it worked because fast forward about 3 weeks later to yesterday, we finally managed to coordinate for him to come over for some late night fun. We smoked up and I probably took one hit too many because soon after I was talking in circles and his body parts somehow became my body parts. I was delirious to say the least, holding in my laughter and continuously licking my lips as my mouth had suddenly become the Sahara desert. At one point I had to get up and get a bottle of water and laid it next to me. As we continued to hookup, I would take water breaks every couple of minutes to replenish my parched throat. Everything was going relatively well, at least from what I could ascertain in my particular state, until we moved to the part where sex actually happens. Just as we were about to begin, the weed kicked in full force. My head was spinning and I was numb yet somehow alert. Then I said the be all to end all of sexual encounters. You know, the kind of sentence that makes the universal penis wilt and soften. I’ll share it with you and see if you agree. “Is that your finger or dick inside me?” Yup, I said that. My brain was in lalaland and could not compute what was actually entering me. I didn’t mean it in an offensive way but I was so lost and confused. Unfortunately, Mr. Lawyer certainly took it offensively. I think he said something to the effect of “how can you not tell the difference?” It wasn’t even a size matter that I was commenting on but it was too late, I shot the mood and it was only a matter of time before he got dressed and left. My bad.
After that spectacle, I don’t really feel the need to see Mr. Lawyer again. It was fun while it lasted but I can’t imagine him being too excited to see me again either. I even have second embarrassment reliving this experience. Boys and girls I have a lesson for you: do not smoke to excess before hooking up or else you will come off as a belligerent idiot who makes fun of someone’s manhood. Jesus, I hope he doesn’t sue me.
Carrie – I had a rough week. One of my coworkers from my job in September passed away at 22. We had hit it off right off the bat when she would force me to stop working and eat with her in her office while we jammed to old school R&B. She even invited me to go with her friends to a cottage for a weekend after only a week of working together. She always offered to get me coffees and lunches, often bringing something back for me when I said no, because that’s how generous and caring of a person she was. Hearing of her passing, it took me for an emotional rollercoaster to say in the least. True, I hadn’t known her for long. True, I hadn’t hung out with her more than twice outside of work. But the shock of knowing a peer your age, someone so beautiful and kind and good, can be snapchatting you one day and gone the next… still gives me shivers.
I resorted to my emotional salvation: yoga. More specifically, 42 degree heated room of 40 people who are all sweating-to-the-max bikram yoga. Practicing silence and clearing the mind of the outside world, even for an hour, was exactly what I needed.
In walks Mr. Namaste. (Feels kind of insensitive to be still checking out guys when you’re emotionally all-over the place, but hey, we all got our own coping mechanisms right?) Since October, he has been in all of my classes (probably because he practices every day). Surprisingly, he’s very hockey-bro manly with a deep voice and broad shoulders, not your stereotypical yogi. If I were to compare him to a celebrity, it would definitely be Chris Hemsworth since they have practically the same hairstyle and matching eyes. Nevertheless, I have been checking him out for a while now but never did we exchange more than a glance, an “excuse me,” or “thanks” to one another. (One time, he held the door open for me and let me go ahead of him. ISN’T MY LIFE RIVETING?) On this particular class, we happen to have our mats right next to each other and I spend the 90 minutes more distracted than focused tbh, thinking of how sweaty our sex sessions would be (#nofilter). I vow to talk to him at the end of the class, but he was gone by the time I changed as he always is. I remember thinking “maybe he’s one of those crushes that will forever stay a fantasy and that’s okay.”
Thoughts of him aside, I go out on Friday evening. Instead of heading to my normal King Street party district, my childhood best friend Hillary* and I head to hipster haven, aka Queen-West, to a bar called Brooklynn. I’m macking on this hot accountant and things are headed in the right direction… until I find out he’s from Vancouver and only in for a conference. I find myself putting up a wall and heading to the bar to relocate my gal pal. Hill* is saying things like “what?!? yaaas girl, just go and fuck him, who cares” while she’s been with her boyfriend for three years and another ex for three years before that. IMHO, when you’re getting a regular fuck for six years, you don’t know the strugs of one night stands.
Then, out of the yoga gods’ hands: Mr. Namaste is right beside me on the dance floor. Incredulous, I ask,“Hey, are you- do you go to BeHot Yoga?” He smiles and we talk for a bit but I leave to find Hill*. She, on the other hand, is OUT TO GET ME (laid). She walks to Mr. Namaste’s friend, telling him to give me Mr. Namaste’s number. The friend misinterprets the sitch and starts trying to makeout with her and then I’m awkwardly coming out of the bathroom trying to figure out what’s going on. That’s when Mr. Namaste comes up to me and I’m embarrassed, realizing the situation Hill* was trying to get going and I end up putting my number in his phone. Hill* tiptoes away, giving me a thumbs up. Mr. Namaste and I begin to flirt when I see his friend beside us aggressively trying to makeout with a girl who is blatantly pushing him away. I point out the situation and laugh, to which Mr. Namaste replies, “yeah that’s my roommate and my ex girlfriend. I told him to go for her.” #AWKWARD.
I figure out they dated for five years, long distance from Dalhousie (Halifax) to Waterloo (Waterloo). Probably a little TMI… Beyond that, why would you ever tell your roommate to fuck your ex, especially when he’s presumably going to be going to YOUR PLACE? Regardless, we head to the dance floor and when he does this hair swoop thing, I call him out on it. “I think you like it actually,” and it sucks cause I did, then he leans in and we make out.
It’s probably 2:45 a.m. at this point so it’s decision time. Do I make my yoga fantasies a reality? Mr. Namaste turns to talk to his roommate and when he turns back around, the dance floor has cleared out save for me (texting alone like a loser) and this group of girls beside me. Mr. Namaste returns and I smile at him, pretty much prepared to go home with him. But he turns to talk to the group of people beside me, touching one of the girl’s arms. In a drunken rational of “fuck this guy,” I dip without saying bye and even resist the urge to get King’s Slice as I taxi home.
As it always does, Monday rolls around and I head to yoga class after work. I made sure that I wore my new Pink push up sports bra, just in the more-than-likely chance I see Mr. Namaste. Sure enough, we make eye contact from the door window but I quickly glance away (because I am a very awkward person). He jokes with the yoga teachers, smiling before heading in. I glance at him but he breezes by me without the slightest eye contact. Even if it was just a d-floor makeout, I think we could at least say hello now that we’ve swapped some saliva but maybe that’s just me.
Of course I don’t see him after class but I figure he has my number. Loyal followers, should I follow up and pursue this guy or move onto the next one? These next few weeks of yoga could be potentially tip-toeingly awkward if we keep pretending the other doesn’t exist. But at least it’s yoga and we don’t have to talk.
For the last half year I have tried to make sex meaningless. I felt as though if I could overcome the emotional aspect I wouldn’t get hurt anymore. But I did, in every sense of the word.
My first date with Mr. MusicMan was okay at best. He started off really negative but I thought it was just because he was tired from working all day. All he did was talk about hating his job, wanting to be a rock star and dreaming about winning the lottery. He was stupidly good-looking so I cut him some slack. At the end of the night he drove me home and kissed me. It’s been a while since a kiss has actually made my heart drop but it happened. Best of all, he messaged me the next morning saying he wanted to see me again!
Our second date took place at his apartment. He wanted to make me dinner – which I basically took as being a booty-call. At first I was hesitant but then I came back to this recurring notion of “why should I care, it’s just sex”. So I went over. The entire night was kind of awkward but I just blamed in on the sexual tension.
After dinner we were hanging out and although I was promised a movie he never turned one on. This just confirmed my belief that this was a booty-call. We ended up making out and it got steamy really quick. Mr. MusicMan was significantly bigger than me and was picking me up with ease. He did all the right moves as picking me up and tossing me on a bed is a sure way into my heart and usually my pants.
Things got intimate VERY quickly and the next thing I knew he was on top of me. This is where things got uncomfortable and quickly made me challenge this perception of sex that I’ve been trying to adopt. Almost immediately he went from being someone who I was super into to someone I was kind of afraid of. I’ve always had problems with intercourse and it’s a huge hit or miss whether or not it will hurt me. Unfortunately, this time it did. But it also didn’t help that he was incredibly rough.
He wanted to change positions every 10 seconds, to the point where I felt like a fucking acrobat. The entire process hurt me immensely and although he asked if I was okay or whether I wanted to stop he never actually slowed down even after I asked him to. The worst part was that I wanted it to stop but felt too uncomfortable to tell him. Here I was having sex with a guy I barely knew – how was I supposed to explain to him that I have a medical condition that clearly had gotten worse and was causing me an excruciating amount of pain? What if he won’t like me or won’t want to see me again?
After the torture was over I went to the washroom. I came back to find him in bed playing guitar – almost like I wasn’t there. I was uncomfortable and unsure as to what to do so I kind of just chilled for a while. We had some very uncomfortable pillow talk where he basically told me I was shallow and cracked a joke about me being a virgin. He also made a comment that he didn’t think I was the “type of girl” to have sex so quickly – leaving me confused and embarrassed feeling like I misread the incredibly clear signs.
At that point I just wanted to get the fuck out of there. I felt disgusting, degraded and worst of all in so much pain I thought I was going to struggle to walk. After asking me to stay the night and rejecting his offer in the kindest way I could (which probably came off really rude) he drove me home and we went our separate ways.
He messaged me that night but then, as it always does, the conversation died and that was the last I heard from him.
This post isn’t about saying he was a shit guy and it’s not about saying sex can’t be casual. All I’m getting at is I think casual sex isn’t my thing. Everything that happened that night was consensual but I didn’t leave his apartment feeling giddy or even satisfied. I left feeling used and abused. Worst of all he had given me indication that we would hang out again, that he wasn’t the type of guy to just sleep with a girl and then throw her to the curb. Although I’m usually careful of these types of comments, I really wanted to believe him. I guess he was at least nice enough to drop me off on my own curb.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
At the point of writing this post (originally) I honestly thought we would never speak again. But the following evening, I was feeling weird about how things were left off so I thought I’d try and ease the weirdness by making a joke. The night before he was convinced he was going to win the Power Ball, so I thought it would be appropriate to open up the conversation by reminding him that he lost:
Maybe I have a shit sense of humour but I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t tell a girl that you don’t intend to see her again the evening after you had sex. Not only was the sex awful but now it was clear this guy was a MAJOR D-BAG.
A few days later I have the good fortune of hearing from him again:
At first I thought introducing a conversation with an emoticon at 12:30am meant I was being booty called. But then I remembered he was in Montreal all weekend so that wouldn’t make sense. As you can see from my side of the conversation I’m hilarious (or at least I think so). Even after receiving a message saying “Missing our horrible sex…” I still tried to crack a joke. Like, sir, do you really have to remind me of how bad the sex was? I was there; I’m well aware you sucked.
That was clearly not the response he was looking for. I’m not sure if he wanted me to comfort him or something but that’s not really the way I normally react to an insult. Try to bring me down and I’m taking you with me.
Dear followers, please feel free to share your thoughts. (1) WTF was the point of this conversation? (2) Did I seem stressed at all in order to warrant being told to “relax”?
I’m starting to think I just attract crazy. I’ll keep you guys posted if I hear anything else from this guy, it’s bound to be post worthy.
Carrie – It’s been about a month since I met Mr. Cardigan. In this time, we have maybe exchanged thirty messages or so. While this may seem a lot on its own, I think I have tried to text my house landline more than Mr. C. Nevertheless, I did meet up with him again, hence his new name: Mr. Card-again (#sorrynotsorry for the bad pun).
He messaged me the Monday after we met, presumably after work around 5:30. Giddy with excitement, I messaged back instantaneously and we banter. Then I go to yoga, thinking I’m gonna leave him hanging for an hour and a half until I’m out of my class – that’s a long enough time to not seem to eager right? I exit the class, running to the lockers to check my phone to ~ nothing ~. It’s interesting talking to new people and how it sets the rules to the game that you two are gonna play. For instance, am I gonna be a prompt responder to this person or do I have to play a little more hard-to-get to keep this person chasing? I hate it, but I unknowingly play by these rules.
I spend the whole next day in anxiety. Confused by why he would message if he didn’t want to talk, annoyed by the fact I cared, bruised by it seemingly like yet another disinterested guy, I felt like absolute shit. I realize I derive a lot of my confidence and self-worth from the relationships I keep, be it friendships or romantic interests, and not all of them are worth my time. I was a little down but just shrugged it off by the end of the workday: another one for the blog, I suppose.
Then after work, Mr. C’s name pops up on my phone, continuing the conversation as if it hadn’t been 23 hours… But who’s counting? I decide to sass him: “Do you check your phone once every day at 5:30 or are you just trying to play hard to get?” It takes hours between every text response and the guy texts in a manner akin to the first time you meet your friend’s parents. He’s a cordial, polite, full-sentence-with-punctuation texter with very little flirtation. He asks me about my plans for the weekend at which point I disclose I’m dipping to Mexico but let’s stay in touch. He agrees, telling me and my family to have a happy holiday. See, he can be sweet!
We message once in Mexico and he asks me when I’m coming back. I respond but he doesn’t answer for five days. FIVE DAYS. What’s the point in answering at all? I can make excuses for him: it’s the holidays, we barely know one another, I’m away in Mexico, etc. etc. However, I find it skeptical that he couldn’t find the time to send me a simple text until the day I’m coming home.
He booty calls me on New Year’s Eve (technically New Year’s Day) at 2:30 am asking to come over. In the immortal words of How I Met Your Mother, “Nothing good happens after 2 a.m.” When I tell him no, he persists and asks me when he can see me next. I tell him we can hang out later that day at a normal hour.
The next morning, I see a text from him. Shocking. 2:38 a.m.: “I’m coming over tomorrow.” We try to make plans for that evening but he bails because he has to work early. At this point, I am ready to write him off but he follows up with a “No excuses for me, can we please hang Saturday or Sunday night?” I reluctantly agree.
Sunday was great. Mr. C wasn’t wearing a cardigan this time, but he was clad in a sweater and that’s close enough to his namesake right? We went to Three Brewers for some beers, he was as cute as I remembered, the conversation flowed really easily and we even laughed a couple of times. Nothing overly memorable but it seemed like it was full of potential. He was family oriented, animatedly telling me about his siblings and parents. He paid for us, opened the door for me, and we walked back to my place. In my bed, we cuddled and he gave me forehead kisses, complimented the way I smell, and acted like a complete sweet and shy gentleman before we engaged in some non-PG-13 activities. Mother Nature was not on my side that week so we make vague plans to ‘hang out’ (probably code for bang) this weekend before he left. He gave me a kiss and departed with a “we’ll talk.”
But the thing is: we don’t talk. Since his first text, I have initiated the majority of our interactions. He blew me off this weekend again because he’s been ‘sick’. When I press the point, he apologizes, saying his family gave it to him and he doesn’t want to pass it onto me. This would all be completely fine, I can take his words at face-value and believe him… but I just have this nagging feeling it isn’t the full truth. He doesn’t try to follow up with another date or even try to continue a conversation past the day. I don’t need to sugar coat things: it is more than likely he’s not interested. I just wish it would be said in an honest conversation.
So he wasn’t free Saturday night, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t. I went out to the Maddy to go dancing with my girls and rejecting the creepy guys. But man, I love being single and ending the night with a burrito in my mouth instead of a dick.
Maybe I’ll hear from him again but my New Year’s Resolution is to stop chasing dead-ends. That’s not to say I won’t pursue anyone or put myself out there to stay open to new possibilities but why waste my time and efforts on people that aren’t worth it? And as I already broke my “eat healthy” new year, new me resolution when I scarfed down a box of 20 Timbits, this is one I’ll try to keep.
Peace & ❤ until next week.