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.

 

Advertisements

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!

Mr. 10(A) High School Musical

Carrie –  For the past nine months, I have withheld my re-born again virginity from potential suitors in hopes that the next guy that I slept with would amount to something more. Not necessarily as in a boyfriend and not even necessarily more than one night (although ideal) – I’m talking about someone that I felt a connection with.

What was this weird self-imposed pressure to make it meaningful? Well, you see, the next guy I would sleep with would be my tenth. For someone who lost her virginity to someone she loved for five years after, I hadn’t ever envisioned myself having sex with more than one partner, much less eight others after that. Sex should be something more than lust, right? I started losing what sex had meant to me so I became infactuated with this idea that hitting double digits – the big 10 – should be something. Maybe 10 would even be my next One + Nothing (1 + 0) because everyone else before that didn’t really mean much.

Yet alas, the spell has been broken…

10(a) : Mr. High School Musical

            Upon heading back into the cesspool that is Ottawa from my May abroad, I felt hopeful my first few days of June. “Summer is the best season in Ottawa,” everyone boasted. With a best friend from the 6ix moving in with me for the summer and a good drinking crew, I was looking forward to Canada’s 150th anniversary in the capital.

Continue reading “Mr. 10(A) High School Musical”

Señor San Fran

Guac-Crop

If you’ve been reading my posts lately you’d know that I was in San Francisco last week and definitely not behaving myself, which makes for the best blog content (if I do say so myself). And if you’ve been reading along, you’d know that I’d been on a pub crawl the night before, meeting tons of new people all with the same thing on their mind: hooking up.

At bar two on the pub crawl, I met Señor San Fran, a tall, dark and handsome glass of water from Mexico (lol, yes I’m a huge tool) who sang me Happy Birthday and bought endless rounds of drinks. I’d never hooked up with a Latin guy before, but was definitely interested in getting chipotlaid and liked his vibe. We exchanged numbers and apparently he’d tried to message me that night, but a lack of service on my end had different plans. The next day I saw an undelivered text to an unknown number in my phone and messaged it via WhatsApp like the 21st century thirst trap I am.

Well, I’m glad I did because on my last night in San Fran I hit the bars HARD with Señor SF, Charlotte, and a couple friends we’d made along the way. After a long night of beer olympics, a Dancehall club and a house party in the middle of nowhere, we ended up together on a bench outside my dorm . The time was 3 in the morning and I had to leave for the airport at 5 am, but despite being so tired that I couldn’t formulate sentences I was determined to get a goodbye kiss.

Eventually he leans in and plants one on my cheek of all places…My facial expression, which must’ve read something like “Dafaq”, prompted him to say “That was super lame wasn’t it”. I nod and he reaches under my chin and pulls me in for a real freaking kiss. I mean, DAMN. Fireworks people.

From there things went from 0 – 100 real quick. He asks if I want to go to the shower down the hall (the same shower from the night before I might add…for SHAME Samantha) and I say “yes” unsure how to tell him that I have already fornicated in that room and would prefer to desecrate a new location. Again, hooking up in hostels is HARD.

Compared to the night before, which was rushed and intense, this was soft and slow…but equally, if not more, awesome. You know what they say about Latin lovers amirite? In fact, I didn’t even realize how hot it really was until some guy yelled at us to shut up…I’ve never really been one for discretion….Sarrrrry.

After getting dressed and saying our goodbyes I went back to my dorm to grab Charlotte and our suitcases…it was time to go to the airport.

I may not have gotten much sleep that night but it was well worth it, and texting him back and forth since then hasn’t been half bad either. I guess I took the phrase “ending with a bang” to a whole new level this trip and couldn’t have asked for a better end to an already incredible vacation. Damn, between Monsieur Formidable last year and now UK Bae/Señor SF, I’m clearly spending my birthdays travelling the world more than just geographically, if you now what I mean 😉

Mr. UK Bae

I’ve been told that the story of this night seems so ridiculous that it is like something out of a movie. As such, like most movies this post comes with a rating:

R – the following blog post is rated R for Relationship. If you are in a relationship, proceed reading with caution and hold all judgement for the comment section below.

Mr. UK Bae, a film by Samantha Jones.

The scene is downtown San Francisco. Two girls (Samantha and Charlotte) are on vacation and staying in a dorm at a hostel. A couple from London, Mr. UK Bae and his girlfriend of a year “Andie” are in the dorm as well. Andie looooves UKB, but he’s a little more meh about her.

1405642567-2db32d2a8213fae07bd5311f85de7da3

That night, all 4 attend the hostel pub crawl along with 50 of their new best friends. The night starts off as innocuous as any and at the second stop of the night everyone finds out it’s Samantha’s birthday. From there the drinks start flowing and soon enough she is very drunk….the following is her account of the rest of that night….

My 24th birthday was one of the best of my life. I was on vacation in San Francisco, had gotten my first tattoo earlier that day, and was having the time of my life with not a care in the world. The only thing getting me down was “Ken”, a guy from my hostel who could not take a hint and was hanging off my neck most of the night. By the third bar I was officially over this stage-75 clinger and asked UK Bae for help in getting away from him. He grabbed my hand and led to the dance floor out of the clutches of Klinger Ken. There, amongst the crowd of gyrating bodies, we stood perfectly still,  holding hands and not breaking eye contact. I don’t know what it was about this guy but from the moment we met I was attracted to his vibe. Now, standing there on the packed dance floor I was definitely feeling a slightly different vibe, so dropped his hand and walked away to grab another drink.

Some time (and many drinks) later I stumbled outside for some much needed fresh air. I stood there catching my breath when UK Bae walks around the corner laughing at me standing there doubled over, trying not hurl.

I honestly don’t know who made the first move but the next thing I know he’s pressed me up against a wall and we’re engaged in what I can only describe as the hottest make out session of my whole damn life. I know it was morally wrong, this is why I put the rating at the beginning of the post, but something about the “badness” of the situation made the whole thing 10000% hotter and I was totally caught up in the heat of the moment.

We reluctantly separate and go back to the bar to avoid suspicion, where Charlotte and Andie are looking for us to hit the next bar on the list. Andie was NOT happy that she’d been left alone and broke down begging him never to leave her again. He told her he’d been helping me since I was sick (semi-true) and Charlotte accepted this at face value, I have no idea what Andie must’ve been thinking.

We acted causal the rest of the night and ended up heading back to our dorm in a pack including him and I, Andie, Charlotte and the guy she picked up for the night, and a blonde AF, Frodo-looking sir who really wanted to walk me home. Friggen squad goals. I suppose a nicer person would’ve felt guilty about the situation but maybe I’m not all that nice a person…Help me out here people, was I wrong to break “Girl Code” or is the onus on him to not make a fool of his girlfriend? The cavalier way in which he so easily crossed that line REALLY makes me suspect I am not the first person to be his “Other Woman”…I’m not justifying my actions…but maybe I am.

13f07840fc2dc4c3aaa5013fadfda18f

Back in our shared dorm, I’m on the top-bunk when I get a very racy text from the bed across from mine. It was UK Bae. In what felt like a scene from a really bad teen movie we begin texting back and forth what we want to do to the other while Andie and Charlotte lie sleeping below us. The whole thing was so naughty that the tension was almost too much to take. We planned to wait till everyone was asleep to make our move and I eventually fell asleep too.

A few strong taps wake me up and and soon I’m on my way to meet him in the shower room down the hall. Why the shower room you may ask? Well, hooking up in hostels is HARD, especially when the person you’re hooking up with is travelling with a significant other. I don’t think she was too interested in having a threesome, so we needed to make alternative plans.

Anyway, after all that build up we immediately got it on in what was one of the sexiest experiences I’ve had in a long time. I’m a girl who likes a little roughness and he seemed to know just what I wanted. The whole thing didn’t last more than 15 minutes, but hey, after about 5 hours of foreplay can you really blame the guy?

We head back to our respective beds and I wake up the next morning still turned on from the events of the night before. Hell, I’m even getting a little turned on thinking about it as I write this. He had some sort of crazy sexual hold over me where all logic and morality flew out the window, replacing all my thoughts with the image of us fooling around in that alley outside the bar.

Now, I know what I did wrong. Andie is a very nice girl and had any guy done that to a friend of mine I’d castrate him. But the circumstances and distance between their lives and mine made the whole thing feel surreal, and boy did it feel good to be bad. By the time Charlotte and I returned to our hostel the next night they’d checked out (this was planned and not a consequence of our actions) so whether or not he tells her is none of my concern. All I can say is Happy Birthday to me, I’m one year older, wiser and a little sluttier too 😛

Ms. All About That Bass

Yup, you guessed it, I hooked up with a girl. A really cool bass-playing, long hair having, bra-wearing female. It was a Saturday like any other and Miranda and I were out in Kensington causing trouble when we stepped outside for a smoke. Well, to be clear I was not smoking, but instead lecturing those around me about the danger of cancer sticks.  Anyway, I stood alongside Miranda and another fellow ranting away when a girl approached us asking for a light. She was playing bass in the “battle of the bands”-ish event happening across the street and asked if we wanted to come watch. Being the loveable, free-spirit that she is, Miranda was immediately down and we headed inside.

The details aren’t important, but I could tell very quickly that this girl was interested in getting to know me in a very non-friendship sort of way. The night soon progressed to us very publicly making out in the middle of the bar, which according to Miranda looked just like a mass of dark, curly hair flailing about. This was soon followed by a slightly inebriated conversation with myself in the bathroom that went something along the lines of…

  • Me: But you’re not into girls in a sexual way…
  • Also me: So what, you’re into sex!
  • Me: Good point.

2016-12-02-1480719823-2522186-EvilKermit_Header

I’ve never been with a girl before. I mean, I made out with one once in Barcelona and had a couple kisses with some friends in high school, but that’s about it. Nonetheless, nothing felt weird or forced so I just went with it. Funnily enough, Ms. All About that Bass said that I gave off lesbian vibes (whatever that means) and I actually do have a reputation for getting drinks from women at bars, so I didn’t blame my friends for not being surprised when I told them about our hookup. In fact, Miranda was the most surprised, at the fact that I hadn’t ventured into same-sex hookup territory before.

We ended up having a great time together, and a great hookup. We clearly had chemistry and got along really well, as I said nothing felt forced at all. I left her place around 4am, throwing out some excuse about walking the dog that I’d been taking care of that week and that was it.

Anyway, I woke up the next morning feeling really giddy and a little guilty. We’d had fun together and I didn’t regret that at all, but I was feeling weird about how MUCH fun we’d had. Our convos from the night before pointed to an actual connection (romantic, friendship, or something different all together) so I didn’t really want to blow this girl off like I might another one night stand. At the same time, she is out, proud and had been for years, and I was still trying to figure out what this hookup meant to me, if anything at all.

I am a millennial at my core so I obviously don’t think that sexuality is cut and dry. Hooking up with guys throughout my life makes me no straighter than hooking up with this girl makes me gay and there’s no need to label it as one way or another. However, I definitely wasn’t looking to pursue anything and this led to me acting pretty awkward when she texted later the next day. I’m not proud of this but my responses were very short and distant, I was acting like a total “fuckboi” and this really bothered me. I’ve been on the receiving end of enough similar situations to know that if I was her, I would not like how I was behaving. The ambiguity of the situation was a tough one for me to navigate and she stopped texting me after picking up on that vibe. All week it was bugging me that I’d acted in a way that I so often condemn. I wasn’t overtly mean, but we both knew what I was doing and that just wasn’t cool.

Cut to the next Saturday when I received a text from her asking if I wanted her to drop off the stuff that I’d left at her place. I was so thrown because honestly, who’s that nice??? Definitely none of the guys I’ve dated! Feeling even worse about how I’d acted I said she could just toss my stuff out if she wanted and again she stopped texting…rightfully so. She’d handed me the second opportunity to explain myself but I punked out.

After letting her message fester for the next 12 hours, I texted her and explained why I had essentially gone like the wind. While I may have padded my response a little, I basically stated that she was awesome and I just wasn’t sure what I want right now. This is actually true, but more in the context of whether or not I want a relationship, not whether or not that relationship is with a man or a woman. To her credit she was extremely cool about the whole thing and grateful for the explanation. We left things amicable enough that I probably could message to hang out in the future if the mood struck again.

The biggest surprise of this whole thing turned out to be how easily we understood each other. She knew what I was implicitly saying through my friendly but dismissive messages and I knew she was looking for an explanation. Men always say women are impossible to understand but we really got each other because I was able to actually put myself in her shoes (or combat boots lol).

At the end of the day I still want to end up with a man and missed the sex part of our hookup, despite how bomb it may have been. Nonetheless, I leave this with a reinforced disdain for ghosting and a much greater appreciation for my own sexuality and the complications that come with it.

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).

i-can-be-your-hero-baby-thumb

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.

Continue reading “Mr. Special Ops”

Mr. Super (Bowl)

 

If you’ve read any of my posts from last week it should be pretty clear that there is quite a bit going on in my life outside of this blog.  Between losing my best guy friend and some other stuff I’ve alluded to, I was STRESSED AF and needed to blow off some steam. Clearly my drunk brain thought so too, because at 4 am last Saturday I made a date with this guy I’d been talking to on tinder. Now, when I say talking to, I really mean that I made a date with a guy I’d sent 3 flirty messages to, AKA I knew zilch about him.

The next morning I was not in the mood to date this guy that I had no read on…I mean, he suggested meeting smack dab in the middle of the Superbowl….What the hell was I getting myself into?  The main reason I’d answered in the first place was because had a very nice bod, so planning to *HUHH (definition at bottom) would probably have been a better play….you know, use tinder for its real purpose. A date this blind felt as if I was heading to the Superbowl with no stats on the other team, a blunder not even the most amateur of players often make. But as I was heading to Rachel Green‘s to watch the game anyway, I begrudgingly prepped for the date cursing my drunk/horny self.

The game begins and Rachel and I get down to business stuffing our facing with sushi, yelling at the TV and attempting to hype me up for this ‘blind-to-his-personality’ date. We were having so much fun that I was really tempted to bail, but as the first quarter ended it was time for me to go. With nerves in my stomach reminiscent of pre-game jitters, I met him outside the bar and was greeted with a huge kiss on the cheek. He grabbed my hand and said “Come with me” explaining that he lives above the bar and wanted to make a drink instead of buying one. I quickly did the lightening speed calculation in my head and realized 1) he’s as cute as his profile,  2) he seems sane enough , and most importantly 3) he clearly just wants a bang. Everything added up in my mind, so I texted his address to Rachel with one hand as he led me upstairs holding the other.

We get to his place, which was pretty damn nice, and settle onto the couch with gin and tonics in hand. I find out he’s a professional poker player, does krav maga and is all about #GoodVibez. When  I asked him why he wasn’t watching the Superbowl, he said he was more interested in getting to know me (TRANSLATION: more interested in getting laid) and ten minutes into the convo, he made a hail mary pass at undoing my bra.  I admit, everything was moving pretty fast, but as I was just looking to get it in anyway I didn’t mind. To put it into football terms, this guy’s plays were very effective and he was soon in scoring position.

I won’t go into details but if sex is like a football game then this guy was def Rookie of the Year. Not quite MVP level just yet but very, very good with tons of potential. Our half time show was just as good as Gaga’s and he definitely kept me entertained until he was ready to “play the second half”. He was pretty rough (in a good way) and after both reaching the end zone multiple times, we lay in bed basking in the glow only experienced after surprisingly great sex. I got up about ten minutes later…pillow talk has never been my thing, especially with a stranger…and decided it was time to head out.

As I left we agreed to message each other again if the mood struck, but it wouldn’t be a big deal to never hear from the other again. I grabbed my stuff, got dressed and headed out with a kiss goodbye. Unlike the Pats and Falcons, neither left the game disappointed.

I stepped back out into the cold, winter night, cheeks flushed and a huge smile on my face… Nothing like getting off to get rid of some stress. I headed back to my gal Green who opened the door to her apartment shaking her head in disbelief. The entire tryst lasted about an hour and a half and I was back on her couch in time to catch the end of what turned out to be an extremely exciting game. We unpacked the details of my adventure as the clock wound down and I headed home soon after, smile still on my face.

You know, I look forward to the Superbowl every year. Who doesn’t love an excuse to drink with friends, eat too much, and watch the gloriously gorgeous Tom Brady prove he is truly the #GOAT. This year did not disappoint, and despite being left a little bruised (I did say he was pretty rough), I am really looking forward to whatever Superbowl LII has to offer next year.

 

*HUHH Definition: Hook up and head home…The quintessential tinder kill. Meet up with the conquest, have (hopefully great) sex, say goodbye and move on with your day.

Boston Babe’s Back!

FFS this post is delayed. Though unintended I have taken 2.5 months to get this sucker out…As such, here’s a little #TBT for your Thursday afternoon….

It was an ordinary November afternoon when I received a Snapchat message from good ole’ Boston Boy (upgraded to Boston Babe), my super sweet fling from the summer who took me to baseball games and held my hand at the dinner table. It said: “Hey, do you know any good places to eat in downtown Toronto?” I laughed to myself, realizing that this was exactly how he’d started our very first tinder convo (yes, I have that good a memory). I was in the middle of a drrrry spell…one that actually started when B-Boy left Toronto back in August. Work was out of control busy, I was studying for a grad school entrance exam, and had a general apathy toward dating of any kind, so ya, I didn’t hesitate setting up our date.

We agreed to meet at his hotel and I showed up nervous and excited. After all, I hadn’t seen the guy in almost 3 months and couldn’t even remember if I thought he was cute. He ended up getting stuck at work so I decided to make the best of the situation and grabbed a glass of wine and a seat at the bar. I ended up chatting to the guy at the stool next to me (don’t get the wrong idea, he was well over 50) and had a pretty hilarious time. I felt a little like the star of my own version of “Pretty Woman”, trying to set up a client while waiting for another to arrive. The gentleman asked if I was staying in the hotel, to which I replied: “Nope just visiting a friend” just as Boston Babe showed up, looking way cuter than I remembered I may add. I struggled to find my credit card and pay for the drink only looking up when the bartender yelled “THAT WAS THE SMOOTHEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN”. Always considerate, my Boston Babe had subtly paid the tab and grabbed my stuff. All I could do was muster a quiet “thank you” and grab his hand before heading straight for the elevators.

The rest of the night was honestly amazing. We hooked up, ate pizza in bed, hot-tubbed, hooked up, watched a movie, slept, and again hooked up. It was as if we picked up right where we let off and quickly transitioned from ‘what’ve you been up to’ pleasantries to meaningful conversation. I left the next morning, after enjoying a complimentary hotel breakfast, feeling elated and excited to see him again. Oh! and I mustn’t forget that the gentleman from the bar the night before turned up again, this time sitting across from me as I ate toast and scrambled eggs, while I kept my blushing cheeks pointed to my plate.

Fast forward a few weeks and I am in a full-on ‘fling-lationship’. I dub this term to explain the otherwise uncategorically expressed phenomenon: I was 100% in a relationship for a very defined period of time. We texted, ate meals together, talked about our days, and spent a lot of time together. By the last week of his trip I had definitely grown attached, more than to just having someone in my life but to him as well. We went skating one night and as he held my hands and skated backwards, guiding us around the rink I couldn’t help but think: “Why does he have to leeeeaaaveeee”. I was so happy to continue doing what we were doing that I couldn’t help but feel slighted to have found someone I get along with so well when he happens to live in another country. A country with a president like Trump no less.

We had some very deep life chats over the course of a couple weeks, even getting into our pasts and relationship deal breakers which is something I rarely share with my male companions. I admitted mine is overemotional guys…ya, I’m pretty callous…hence my hesitance to share. It turned out I needn’t worry, as his exes always complained that he didn’t open up and was too emotionally reserved…Well no wonder we friggen got along so well! I don’t like to talk about feelings with the guy I’m dating and he doesn’t like to talk about feelings. period.

Well, while our mutual fear of intimacy made for a perfect fling, it also made it kind of hard to understand if the feelings I was developing were real. By the end of his trip my mind had turned into a broken record  “Should I say how I feel? Could he feel the same way? Am I asking to be rejected by a guy who admittedly doesn’t open up??” I continued this one-woman game of ‘relationship chicken’, torn between taking a risk or letting this great guy just pass me by until it was suddenly our last night together and I still hadn’t said anything. You’d think I’d be capable of uttering a simple “Hey, I like you and I’d actually give this a shot…what do you think?”, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Despite my overwhelming cowardice we had a great night. Well, no…Let me clarify. I had a perfectly good night but he was clearly VERY off…to this day I don’t know what was wrong but he didn’t enjoy the physical part of our relationship in the same way he had throughout all the time we’d spent together prior. Maybe he was also playing relationship chicken and was more wrapped up in his thoughts than in my embrace? Maybe he had a rough day at work? Who knows. I

left the next morning knowing that it’d be the last time I saw him.  Whether or not he felt the way I did one thing was clear: neither of us had the balls to turn this into anything real and without someone stepping up to the plate we’d go down in history as the greatest potential relationship never to reach the major leagues.

We had a great time together and while losing him stung a bit, I was over it after a couple days and quickly dove back into work, studying and not giving a fuck about dating. I won’t be the type of girl always at someone else’s beck and call, so if he ever came back to T.O., single or not, our fling-lationship would remain safely where it belongs: on my blog.

How I Broke up with My Best Friend…Twice

I used to think that girls and guys could be just friends. I really did! I’ve had many guy friends in the past and am 100% comfortable bro-ing out. Hell, sometimes I NEED the testosterone in my life to balance out particularly dramatic periods of time. But I have finally accepted that in any very close male-female relationship, it is not possible to always be “just friends”. In fact, to quote my fave relationship guru and fellow DTT6 author Rachel Green, a guy and girl can only actually be friends if they both successfully pass the “Do I like this person” hurdle at least some point in the relationship. Why I bring this up you might ask? Well, for the second time in my life I have had my best and closest guy friend admit to having feelings for me and for the second time in my life I had to give up on a friendship that has been ruined by sex – or in these cases, a lack thereof.

Quick background on me: I lost my virginity to my best friend in Grade 12, told him I liked him only as a friend, lost that friendship, realized I liked him a year later, dated for a year, broke up in what can only be described as world war 3, and hooked up on and off for almost 2 years until that went down in flames. If our breakup was world war 3 then the finality of our relationship was world war Z, and the carnage was epic on both ends. I decimated that friendship and almost 5 years after our initial breakup the wound has not properly healed. Safe to say I’m pretty sensitive when it comes to the treacherous waters where emotion meets friendship.

Despite this, I got very close to one of my male co-workers when starting at my current job. We don’t have much in common in terms of interests but for some reason we just click. Over the last year and a half we have gotten incredibly close, spending time together outside of work constantly and ingratiating each other in our respective lives. He’s facetimed with my family, I’ve gone for dinner with him and his dad and as time went on the lines between us grew increasingly blurry. Nonetheless, it never seemed like a problem worth addressing..I didn’t think of him him that way and didn’t think about how he felt about me.

Cut to – August 2016 when this great friend of mine turned into a compete a-hole. Seemingly overnight my closest male ally had become my enemy, acting distant and insulting at every turn. He pushed me away and I just didn’t understand why.

Never one to shy away from conflict I confronted him, at work mind you, and asked WTF was up. Honestly, I thought he was going to tell me he had feelings for our DTT6 resident Miranda and was absolutely FLABBERGASTED when he instead admitted to having feelings for me. I was shocked, confused, and a tiny bit flattered. His feelings ran quite a bit deeper than a crush, and his hurtful behaviour stemmed from an inability to balance our friendship with how he felt.After a very uncomfortable convo where I had to straight up tell this great guy that I was not into him we left the office in separate directions, me understanding what I did to piss him off (answer: not love him back) and him needing some space from our friendship.

I am not so naive to think this never would have happened. Tons of my friends had previously asked what was up, either believing he was into me or otherwise gay, so I was really the only one surprised by this news.The only explanation that I can provide is it’s a likely combo of  denial and wishful thinking. I never would’ve wanted to hurt him or our friendship, so I pretended the notion of us as being an “us” didn’t exist for as long as I could.

But now everything was out in the open and I totally respected the need for distance. I  went about my days as typically as possible, patiently hoping things would rectify themselves. And like most things do, our relationship eventually did go back to normal. We talked more, hung out, and I just assumed that his feelings had passed. “Maybe he was confusing closeness with intimacy and never even really liked me like that” I told myself this and honestly, I believed it. After a little while I didn’t even think about that 2 hour conversation that left us both without a best friend. The facetimes returned, the dinners too and I thought we’d made it past the hurdle Rachel so eloquently mentioned at the beginning of this post. In fact, we got even CLOSER if that’s possible and spent every waking minute together, at work and outside as well. He became my “emotional boyfriend” and while I definitely saw the danger in that I ignored it. He made me feel happy, secure and cared for without having the pressure to define anything because we already had a definition: Friends. At this point I actually did think about what it’d be like to be with him in a more romantic way, and it just wasn’t there for me.

Then came the holidays, a hard time for all single people. After a very boozy holiday party we ended up back at my place with two other friends. While they chilled in the main room we went to my bedroom to roll a joint. We were standing by my dresser chopping the weed when he looked over and leaned in #StonerRelationshipGoals. Honestly, this couldn’t have been more perfectly choreographed if it was intended for television but as he leaned in I leaned out, narrowly missing his kiss.

Screen Shot 2017-02-07 at 12.14.06 AM.png

(I am soooo not proud of my next few moments but they happened so I may as well be honest). Though I rejected him pretty blatantly, I was very flirty the rest of the night, even telling him “You don’t need to regret it” when he said he didn’t feel badly about making a move because the moment felt right. Ya, I was being a huge tease and an even huge-r asshole, but I wasn’t really thinking and maybe enjoying the attention a little too much.

The next day I invited him to brunch with my roommate and acted like nothing happened. 3 days later I went to South Africa for a 2-week trip. We spoke often while I was away so I just assumed we’d had a weird moment but had gotten past it.  But when I went back to work nothing was the same. Fun and comfortable had been replaced by tense and forced and I was so confused. I didn’t even think about the almost-kiss as being the cause, the incident living deep in my long-term memory and clouded by 2 weeks of sun. Things became progressively more tense and I progressively more upset. How were we at this place again? I didn’t think he could possibly like me because he was always talking about other girls, or maybe this is just what I was telling myself.

We reached a boiling point at my roommate’s birthday, where even his best GUY friend admitted that the tension was palpable. I texted him the next morning saying things had felt off for a while and we couldn’t put off a conversation any longer. Apparently my timing was less than impeccable as he was heading to Florida for a week, so we promised to talk when he came back. A week goes by and he comes back to work on what turned out to be a horrible, HORRIBLE day for me. Separate from our issues, I had some pretty serious personal stuff going on, and he ended up passing me dashing out of the office mid-panic attack. Without me even explaining anything more than “I can’t deal right now, this is too much”, we went for a walk and he let me utter panicky nonsense on repeat for 20 minutes. Knowing we still had to talk he said he’d wait till things calmed down and made sure to check in days later to see how I was doing.

We finally had our talk. He told me that he isn’t over me and had been thinking about making a move long before the night he leaned in for the almost-kiss. I guess I hadn’t realized how far back our issues extended because I was away (or ignoring the signs). What really gets me is he admitted to intentionally waiting and acting cool while I was away because he wanted me to enjoy my trip…he was always putting me and my feelings first. Since I’ve been back it’s become too hard to be just friends and he doesn’t know if I can be in his life the way I want to be right now. Again, I totally understand, but this time it’s much harder. Maybe it was a result of all the other things I’m dealing with at the moment, maybe it’s because I wish we’d work out because who doesn’t want to fall in love with their best friend. I honestly don’t know.

What I do know is that all the weirdness fell away when he saw how upset I was at work and was still there for me in spite of how hard it was for him, and this realization broke my heart a little. He truly put me first, even before himself, and when I thanked him for his support I broke down into tears, something I’ve never done in front of him. You know what his response was? “You being real and vulnerable right now only makes me like you more”…needless to say if my heart wasn’t broken before, it was after that.

After this we sat around not saying much. Neither of us wanted to leave because we knew this was the last time we’d be just the two of us for a long while. It’s not fair to him to stay so close to me and it sucks for me to have to let him go, but what can I do? I let this happen by getting into a pseudo-relationship and now I need to deal with that. When he hugged me goodbye I felt him hold me in a way that was tragically final and way too reminiscent of an actual breakup, and it was painful.

So now we’re not friends.

We’re not in a relationship.

We’re taking space and I had to tell this guy not once, but twice, “I’m sorry, I don’t feel the same way” (But I kinda wish I did).