6’ixin like a Vixen

Miranda here. Remember me? I’ve been MIA for a solid 8 months on this blog and I apologize profusely for that. Long story short- I took a 6 month hiatus from dating in general to focus on myself. There aren’t many stories to share other than a random hookup or two from a night out. However, just over a month ago I finally decided it was time to get back into the game the only way I really know how: Tinder.

I went on a couple dates and met a guy who I really liked but that ended just as quickly as it came (in typical Miranda fashion). Though, that can be a story for another time as the focal point of this post is what happened after and how I dealt with it. I was feeling pretty shitty and was trying to figure out the best way to recover. Cue the following weekend where for once in my life I had no solid evening plan which, if you know me personally, is a rarity as a self-proclaimed planning queen. I contemplated forcing plans onto friends to keep myself busy but then I was hit with a brilliant yet very un-Miranda-like plan. I decided this weekend would be for myself, by myself.

I was going to go out on my own Saturday night.

Yep, you read that right. A 20-something year old single girl going out in the 6ix alone. Sounds like a recipe for disaster? Probably but thank god those fears didn’t stop me.

I downed 2.5 drinks before I left for the night just to get a subtle buzz going and for liquid courage purposes. I then headed over to a neighbourhood dive bar where I was sure to meet interesting people. I walked in and it was disappointingly empty but I took a deep breath and sat at the empty bar and ordered myself a drink. 10 minutes in I had struck up casual conversation with the bartender/owner and the seats on other side of me were filled by two older men that seemed to be regulars of the establishment. I mustered up the courage and started speaking to both of them (neither of which I was actually interested in). You see, the goal of the night wasn’t necessarily to meet a guy to hook up with, but to learn to socialize with others without the social reliance of friends. I had some interesting conversations and learned that as my drunkenness progressed, it was time to get out of the dive bar and into an environment where I could dance.

I walked down the street to my favourite resto-bar and headed straight to the bar. Here, the men were much more attentive to me and I quickly received a few offers to do shots with them, which I happily obliged. But the night was young and I still wanted to dance and not get tied down to any guy so early on in the night, so I said my goodbyes and headed to the dance floor. Dancing on your own is a peculiar thing. It’s exhilarating and freeing, and I highly recommend more people to do it outside of the confines of their bedroom. Later on, I met a few more people and remained talking and dancing with them for the rest of the night. It was awesome witnessing so many strangers coming together and engaging like they had been friends forever when in fact their only commonality was the love of booze and conversation.  I left the bar with free drinks in my stomach and two slices of pizza in my hands – which in my drunken eyes is always the sign of a good night.

I know it might seem a bit strange and erratic for any young woman to do something like this. Typically you hear of older lonely men hitting up bars on their own and being complete creeps. But it’s time to recognize that this is definitely an option for us. Trust me, I was a bit nervous going into it but I knew I had to do it for me. I was surprised how open people were to talking to me, and although some thought it was unusual it didn’t stop them from being friendly. It didn’t hurt that I was wearing a conversation inducing outfit either ;).

Key takeaway: if you’ve ever craved to go out alone and do your own thing go for it! Screw social norms and what’s expected of us – if you want to have fun and be the best version of you, there’s no one stopping you but yourself.  It was an amazing and enlightening experience for me and definitely not the last time I’ll do this. It pushed me to socialize on a whole other level and to be content just being on my own. My only advice is to walk into the night with an open mind, be careful and tell some friends where you’ll be, and drink in moderation.

Make the 6ix your oyster!

If you try this out, please share your experience with us in the comments below!

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Chronicles of a Toronto F*ckGirl: Part Three – The Most Emotionally Draining Weekend Ever

Carrie – So Friday night, I finish dinner earlier with the girls back in my old neighbourhood and head back downtown Friday night to prepare myself for my date with Mr. Blind Spot. I am having a minor freakout which I don’t normally get like but I liked this guy and could see it going past a potential hookup.

“But I am a f*ckgirl, I’m not looking to date just one guy, so I got this” I repeated to myself as a mantra. Apparently, in my mind, to be a f*ckgirl is to wear foundation so I was patting the stuff on, listening to a chill playlist and constantly calling my friend to make sure I wasn’t yoloing too hard. Mr. Blind Spot texts me that I should invite my friends but as you are all aware, I have no friends, and especially not any that would meet up downtown without two hours’ notice. So I rally and walk over to the club. I know I’m doing okay because I get hit on walking over alone at 8 p.m. by two guys who tell me to “Live Long and Prosper” and proceed to grab my hand as I flash them a Spock sign of peace and try to run away.

I meet Mr. Blind Spot at the door and we exchange an awkward hug/cheek-kiss. We head to the bar and I notice Mr. Blind Spot squinting at me. Then we head to the dance floor, watching the local band, and I look up at him blatantly staring at me again and doing this hard blink. With me at 5’2” (5’5” with my booties) and with him at 6 feet, it was like a creepy hovering gaze. I tell him to stop staring at me (cause I’m gutsy AF) and he tells me he’s allowed to admire me for my beauty. I roll my eyes and he laughs and confesses that he’s also kinda blind (-1.75 in each eye, same prescription as me!) but can’t wear contacts. “So you walk around blind?” I ask. “From far away, essentially.” That explains why he would constantly squint when he was focusing. I just thought he had a twitch.

I meet his friends and we’re yelling at each other from across the dance floor. He tells them we met on the subway and I laugh. He pulls me aside when I was talking to one of his friends from out of town and asked in a cute inquisitive way “What were you talking to __(I forgot his name)__ about?” I for the life of me can’t remember but I DO remember feeling like I was the ultimate male manipulator when it came to the make-boys-jealous game. We end up dancing to Justin Bieber’s “Sorry” like nobody was around us, twirling each other around before making out on the dance floor. Now I’m not one for PDA, especially not a D-floor makeout (shout out to my DTT6 mate Samantha who is the MASTER of this), but I remember looking around and seeing groups of girls and guys looking at us kind of admiringly, kind of like “get a room” and I finally felt like the girl you were jealous of. And you know what? It felt nice to be the centre of attention – the girl who had it all. He was good looking, surprisingly a great dancer and not just like a “grind on me all night” type, and we were having a blast… until he killed the mood by dropping his gum into my mouth mid-kiss.

I put him in his place and we take a break to talk at the side of the bar. He asks me about the best part of my week and seemed to genuinely listen. We talk for a bit and start making out and next thing I know, he’s got a ‘visitor’ down south and he’s telling me “we should find our secret hiding spot.” I, in a drunken panic, start to freak out that all he wants to do with me is have sex.

Now I know a lot of people use this as an excuse but I was ACTUALLY on my period. When I tell him this, he tells me I’m lying. Next thing I know, we’re having a conversation about what we want from this and I express that I am not looking for a one-night stand. I am sick of strings of guys and I just wanted a stable hookup with a small connection. It doesn’t have to last a year but not a night either. But all I am able to articulate in the club is that I’m not looking for a one night stand. He tells me he’s not looking for a serious relationship. And this is a bit of a shock to me because every bit of the way he was acting is how a boyfriend would. I guess he was just well-bred. It was clear we both didn’t know what we wanted and this conversation was way too premature.

So I do what I do normally and I ran. He said “let’s just dance and have fun” and I said “but we clearly don’t want the same things here so what’s the point?” I end up grabbing my coat and he walks me to the door, tries to make out with me one more time, and I said “I’m not changing my mind” and he said “I know.” And that was it.

The total opposite way I imagined the night to go, I am walking down King Street alone at 1:30 a.m in the clubbing district on a Friday night. There are tons of people still on the street and I hear “hey sexy ass, hey sexy ass.” I ignore the person, thinking it could have been directed to anyone. Then, I feel my ass getting smacked. I will NEVER stand for this and in my state of already fuming anger, I push this guy away. “Don’t touch a girl without her permission.” This random loner walks ahead, screaming fuck you and making obscene gestures, turns the corner, and has to turn around realizing he’s going the wrong way. The best bit: he pretends that it wasn’t him, hands in his pocket and suddenly silent. I say “real smooth” as I walk by and he looks me in the eye and says “fuck you whore.” I wish I could say I kept my cool but I wound up my arm, smacked him on his non-existent ass, and said “how do you like being touched without your permission” and stormed off.

The next morning, I was in the foulest mood when I woke up. I felt so caught off-guard with what happened which left me in a mixture of regret and confusion. I had literally and figuratively been hit from behind. Furthermore, I had not expected to have invested emotions into this guy so quickly and have it end so dramatically. For a person who prides herself on her relationships (romantic or otherwise), there is very little worse than being an inconsequential person to someone else. It feels like living a life without meaning to have not been meaningful to someone else. I guess this is what motivates me to never give up on people and I resolve to send a text before work to ensure I have #noragrets

I clarify that I don’t want a one night stand but I don’t want serious either. Drunken bar talks aren’t the best for seeing a middle ground and if he was still interested, let’s hang out again. He takes hours to respond and I write him off as an asshole, but it’s okay cause it’s going to be my long-postponed date with Mr. 3 Chances 2 Many. As his name might indicate, I don’t get a response from Mr. 3 Chances until three minutes after we’re supposed to meet that “he really wants to see me but he overslept at a friend’s uptown and won’t be able to get back downtown until 1 and he has tutoring at 2. I ignore him cause the guy’s a) unreliable and b) an idiot which makes for an unreliable idiot I have no time for. I find myself on autopilot, answer Mr. Blind Spot’s text: “Well I’m down to hang out a few more times if you’re up for it. We can just take it slow and see how it goes.” He also proceeds to leave my response to make plans unanswered for all of Sunday.

And just like that, I go from feeling like I’m on top of my Fuckgirl game to being right back in the first place where I started off: lonely, lost in the 6ix, and constantly being screwed over by unreliable dudes.

I try not to give so much power to allow others to influence how I feel about myself but sometimes it’s really hard to compartmentalize. So naturally I am ecstatic when Monday rolls around and I look at my phone to have responses from both guys…