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”

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Mr. Brazil

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Carrie – So after three months off of the dating app game, I found that my dating game had gone seriously downhill as well. There were a couple of guys here and there, but nothing that panned out and nothing I was excited about. I downloaded Happn because I thought it was the closest dating app that paralleled meeting someone in real life and in fact, I’ve had many an awkward run in with people on the app that I subway home with on the daily. Added bonus: I knew that Mr. Namaste was on it and things were either gonna “Happn” between us or not but I really needed to get over my little yoga crush. We matched. I messaged him “hey stranger, see you in class” (He didn’t respond. I haven’t seen him in class. I’m sure it’ll be awkward when we do. Nothing happened. I’m over it.)

It’s also the most overwhelming dating app for someone who is just getting back in the game. Your options are presented to you all at once, it tells you how many times you two have “crossed paths” and even narrows it down to the exact location. It’s tough to make a splash because unlike Tinder or Bumble or other swiping apps, the spotlight isn’t on your profile and guys don’t need to decide via swipe one way or another. Instead, your profile (aka your main picture) has to be attracting enough for someone to notice you out of the four options available on the screen. As a chick who is often picked somewhere in the middle of the pack when captains are choosing their sports teams, it seemed daunting to get anyone to match me.

Continue reading “Mr. Brazil”

Navigating the Dating Scene 101

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

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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.

  1. 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.

  1. 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?

  1. 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!

  1. 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.

  1. 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!

Mr. Card-again

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.

Chronicles of a Toronto F*ckGirl: Part Four – Mr. 3 Chances 2 Many

Carrie – Being a f*ckgirl is hard. Being a Toronto Tinder f*ckgirl is even harder. People are fickle but people online are even shittier, myself included. For example, 99% of the time, I have read your message and I just choose not to respond to you. 1% of the time, I have read your message but I am thinking of something witty to respond to you and don’t want to seem too eager. For a chick that doesn’t like games, I sure have learned the rules quick.

Monday evening, recounting my weekend to a friend at a vegan restaurant, I’m feeling uber chic and hipster in my new black toque and plum lipstick (yeah, I’m one of those Asians) when I get a text from Mr. 3 Chances 2 Many and Mr. Blind Spot. Balancing guys ain’t easy but as the title of this post might indicate, I’m gonna focus on the Mr. 3 Chances for this one. To be frank, his text had popped up as a number because I had deleted his number in a trigger-finger move when he essentially stood me up the day before.

6:27 p.m.: Hey what’s up?

I scoffed and put my phone away.

8:23 p.m.: you prob don’t wanna talk to me now eh

I decide to be a decent human being and rather than ghost this guy, at least just tell him I took his hint by him bailing two times and I’m no longer interested. He sends a text in protest right away and it honestly was the longest consecutive conversation we’ve had. Then he asks me what I’m doing that night.

Listen guys – it doesn’t work like that. If you don’t make the effort to fit me into your schedule, especially when we’ve taken the time to confirm the plans, I don’t drop everything when it suits you. So I tell him that he should feel bad for bailing and it’s a shitty thing to do to someone. I’m sure he doesn’t need a stranger to lecture him but I thought I’d be respectful and respond to him to let him know I’m over it. No response back from him, I figure he really didn’t want a stranger to be lecturing him and that’s that.

Boarding the subway a half hour later, Mr. 3 Chances says “you’re right. Third times a charm tho? :)” I applauded his cajones cause I probably would have just ignored him and he says he agrees with me that he’s really messed it up with me and he’s really trying to make an effort to hang out cause he feels bad and wants to.

I’ve said time and time again, I’m a sucker for persistence. I may be a tough cookie but my hard shell can be as cracked as easily as a Cadbury Mini Egg. And as much as I would like to change myself in a lot of ways, I think the ability to give people the benefit of the doubt and forgive is one of my best qualities. Even though it might seem naïve and I always end up vulnerable, shouldn’t we be vulnerable as humans actively trying to make a connection? So I tell him I’m considering.

After some prodding throughout the week, we go through our schedules and out of three dates, Friday night later in the evening seems to work. I joke that he has a Tinder date before me, but he tells me he’s going to the aquarium with his parents who are visiting from Barrie.

Friday rolls around, I get a text at 10 that he’s heading back from the aquarium so I freak out and start my f*ckgirl ritual of foundation, a smoky eye and some dark lipstick. I decide on some jeans and booties while my friend and I dance to Damian Marley, releasing our inner reggae gurus. I debate wearing the same outfit as I did with Mr. Blind Spot for our first date and to be honest, I was thinking of him a lot after the events that happened earlier that week. He had messaged me earlier that day and we were chatting a bit. I just didn’t want to put all my eggs in that basket and I’ve never dated multiple guys at the same time so I wanted to try something that felt unnatural to me.

But it’s the date that never happens because at 11, when we’re supposed to meet, he tells me he just got home and will be another 40 minutes. 11:40 p.m. on a Friday night for a first date sounds more like a booty call to me. I tell him it’s too late for me, I’ll text him tomorrow, he apologizes. Reading the message and feeling rejected, I also feel more resolved that I am perhaps not as good as a polyamorous dater as I suspected and shoot off a text to Mr. Blind Spot asking what he was up to that night…

Chronicles of a Toronto F*ckGirl: Part Two – The Dates (Kinda)

Carrie – I meet with Mr. Blind Spot at a local pub nearby my place. I had been to the place a couple of times – in fact, in April before I had become a 6ix chick, it was the first pub I had met my sister in. It’s in the centre of the party district so I met Mr. Blind Spot at the subway and we walked over together. But there’s this thing I do before the first meet up where I call the guy to make plans of where exactly to meet and see if he has a sexy voice (because that’s the best indication whether or not he’ll be a psycho murderer, duh!).

I’m surprised when I meet him that he’s the most normal internet random I’ve met (two others before so not the greatest sample but comparatively the best). Tall, dark haired with a controlled beard, decent full head of hair, and these great green-brown-blue eyes, he had a cute little gap in his front two teeth that I didn’t actually mind to my surprise. Mr. Blind Spot and I spend two and a half wonderful hours chatting over new beer tastings, from the Blue Jays to the best pick-up lines (including the ones he’s used on other Tinder girls) to family to PAST RELATIONSHIPS (!) to what we study/studied and being Italian (him) and Chinese (me). And get this everyone – he’s in aerospace engineering and I was immediately like ‘shit I should keep this one around.’ And this is especially because he mentioned how he deleted his Tinder around the Wednesday that he started talking to me on the regs. Undoubtedly, this tidbit made me a little hopeful about this guy.

I mention his nonni and how I love to collect Italian grandparents’ gnocchi recipes and then he goes a little silent. I recognized I hit a sensitive spot right away. He shared that his nonno had just passed away a couple of weeks before (the day before his birthday actually). If I had any reservations of Mr. Blind Spot being a player because of his previous “I feel like we connect very well #lovemesomeAsian” and his 2:30 a.m. drunk text saying “you’re a cutie”, his vulnerability at that moment really made my walls come down. This version seemed more like the authentic him and a real human being. In true Carrie fashion, I had even called him out on it when he said he was generally a very quiet guy and I responded with “you know, you can come off a little douchey via text but I like this side of you better.” He seemed a little startled that I told him that but had even apologized for seeming like a d-bag.

We leave around 11:30 p.m., it being a Monday night. Very gentlemanly-like, he pays and walks me toward the subway closest to my place. On the walk home though, a door to this wooden construction alcove swings open from the wind as we walk by. I giggle and push him through cause it was just weird timing and then shit hits the fan. Next thing I know, he pulls me in with him and this place is completely hidden out of sight and covered, the only light coming from the frosted glass windows of an apartment lobbyway. So we’re making out against the wooden boards and he picks me up with my back against the wall. I think he says something that was off-putting to me like “I wanna do dirty things to you” but I was so into it I didn’t even care. I did care when he started to make me grind against him and then he tries to finger me, his hand down the waistband of my tight high-waisted jeans and it just wasn’t feeling good or sexy or classy. I said “not now, not like this” and we simmered down for a bit before he walked me the rest of the way, trying to convince me to let him up into my condo. However, we were walking up University Avenue and he held my hand for a bit and when I said something along the lines of “is that [a hookup] all you want?” he had responded “no, I want it all” and it was strangely comforting rather than alarming for a first date. I kissed him by the subway in what I thought was a sexy fashion, breaking away mid-kiss and whispering “goodnight” against his protests to stay the night.

I wish I could say I was a player and was chill. I am not that type of girl. I am a go-getter and I had it bad. I wait a day and no text. Anxiety ensues where I think over every possibility that I might have messed up that date. Was it cause I walked away without following up? Was it cause he was just looking for a hookup? Was it cause – fuck it, I’mma text him. So two days later, “You win this time. When can I see you next?” and he couldn’t when I was free and we weren’t texting like we were leading up to the date.

So I think “WWTFGD” (What Would a Toronto Fuckgirl Do?) and I respond to Mr. 3 Chances to reschedule for Sunday afternoon since he had apologized profusely for bailing Monday. My DTT6 Galpal Samantha had advised no second chances for Tinder boys but I like to see the best in people, sometimes to the point of recklessness. I agreed to the date since things with Mr. Blind Spot were seeming a little fickle.

Mr. Blind Spot texts me that night “so I might not have gotten to hang out with you tonight but I did score… in the soccer game.” We chat briefly and he invites me out Friday night of the same week to go out with his friends… This seems premature to me but it pointed toward the fact that this could blossom to a relationship. I mean, you don’t introduce a random Tinder hookup to your friends your second time hanging out do you? I had plans for dinner but then reluctantly agreed.

At dinner on Friday, my girlfriends and I charted out a game plan for my weekend of Friday night Mr. Blind Spot and Sunday brunch Mr. 3 Chances. Over dinner, this third backup texted me to meet up with him that weekend. I blew him off cause even I knew that three guys was really two too many for this relationship type of gal.

Update: I walked by the area again one time last week and found the featured sketchy spot. Thought I’d share if you ever needed a somewhat secluded makeout spot in the 6ix.

 

 

From the Archives: Mr. Disappearing Act

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

downloadHey there,

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wishing you the best,

Samantha

Mr. Frienths

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could be an actor if I wanted.”

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

The best yet:

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

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

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

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

Mr. Economics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why are men so stupid?

Dr. Dentist

Charlotte – I’m a serial dater who just can’t get it right. I have always been the girlfriend-type, with my most recent relationship just under three years long. However, since ending that about half a year ago, I have gone through my fair share of dicks (in both senses of the word). This single thing and I are just not getting along.

I won’t do the tinder thing. I know I’m probably going to give in soon, but am staying strong for now. As a result, I need to be more resourceful in how I find my men. Usually it’s through acquaintances, bars or maybe a friend. This time, however, my mom got involved when her client’s son saw a photo of me and wanted to shoot me a message. My thought process when my mom told me was something along the lines of damn this is sketch; he’s probably a thousand-pound serial killer but why not.

First date rolls around and we go to a bar to grab a drink. I got there first and am sitting around waiting for my serial killer blind date to come and join me. All of a sudden this stunning, tall, well-put-together bearded man comes by. He gives me a side grin and apologizes for being late. Not sure if the shock showed on my face but it must have. He’s a dentist who’d just come back to Canada after doing residency in the States for a few years. I’m sitting there thinking “Damn mom, you done good, you done real good.” Date number one was a success and a couple days later I got asked on date number two.

That evening we planned on getting high and going to an art exhibit. In my mind I’m just like “I’ve found my soul mate… dentist, handsome, occasionally dabbles in recreational drugs… marriage material”. He picks me up in this swanky ass car and I’m just immediately like “Oh wow this is different”. I’m used to dating people my own age, so being picked up in an Uber means I’m getting spoiled.

We get to the art exhibit and he informs me that there will be no drugs. Ugh, strike one. We go inside and he barely speaks to me. Ok…maybe he’s just really into the art? After about 20 minutes he finally opened his mouth, to me immediately wishing he hadn’t. That hour was so dull I actually tried to plan my escape. Unfortunately, this was a pop up art exhibit and the only way to escape was through the front door which wouldn’t be too stealth. So I just prayed that the nightmarish date would either improve or end….Strike two.

After the exhibit he suggested grabbing apps and drinks at a restaurant. I was all for that idea, because alcohol would either loosen him up or I could get drunk to the point of forgetting where I am. Either way it would be a significant improvement to the night. We’re walking along when he spots a café and basically bolts for it, clearly the man needs an apple strudel.

I have never seen anyone eat like this in my life. You know how piranhas viciously maul their prey? Ya, this was that. I don’t think the guy even took a breath between bites. Like sir, have you ever eaten before? Still battling through my disaster date I thought “maybe he’s just hungry… pretend like you didn’t just see that. I NEED ALCOHOL!” This probably should have been strike three.

We leave the café and are informed at the restaurant that it’s going to be a bit of a wait. So Dr. Dentist decides we should go on a walk to Dundas Square. We’re standing in the middle of the square with a group of pot smoking teenagers to our left (who I am incredibly jealous of at that moment) and some fresh-off-the-boat tourists on our right. Dr. D and I are chatting, finally the conversation has picked up, but it feels more like we’re having two conversations that aren’t intersecting, as demonstrated by the next moment we shared. I asked him a question, relevant to the topic I thought we were both discussing, just to have it ignored. Instead, he throws in this awful one liner about how beautiful my smile is and how he’s happy I decided to give this a try. Then kisses me.

Sounds romantic and shit right? Well it’s not when 1) we are in the middle of Dundas square with everyone staring at us  2) The line was so forced it caused me physical pain 3) He pulls away immediately after our lips touch. I practically fell forward as I was not prepared for such a sudden retreat after the awfully timed and forced line. Best of all, he kind of just held me. LIKE WHO ARE YOU? I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOU! I must be desperate or something because this should DEFINITELY have been strike three.

Thankfully it was time for food and DRINKS. The more alcohol I got into my system, the more tolerable he became. By the end of the date I thought I would even go on a third. I put aside the whole being ignored through an art gallery thing, watching him devour an apple strudle AND a full cheesecake (yes, not a slice but an entire cake) and the most awkward first kiss of my life.

He messaged me later that evening. The conversation died down quickly and he never asked for a third date. When I decided it was too cliché to wait for a man to muster up the courage to ask for a date I decided to do it myself. He didn’t even reply. Three strikes buddy, you’re out.