Mr. Handball

Miranda – In September of this year, I went on an epic solo vacation to Israel and Cyprus. To sum up my trip, think beaches, booze, partying, falafel, and orthodox Jews. Although meeting boys wasn’t a large aspect of my trip, I did walk away with one experience that is impossible not to share.

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This story is probably as close as I’m going to get to a Disney fairytale love story minus the G rating and the happily ever after ending. Picture this: an exhausted and gross looking me carrying a massive backpack, standing outside the Tel Aviv airport trying to figure out how to get to my hostel. I have just been informed that since it was Shabbat, the whole country, including trains and transportation, had been shut down. Lucky me. There must have been a look of panic and stress on my face because a man with a suitcase approached me asking if I needed help. Turns out he was an undercover security guard posing as a tourist. He guided me to the taxis as that was now my only option to get to the city, but not before asking me for my number. Still frazzled and confused, I gave it to him – not out of interest but more out of not wanting to reject him after helping me, and who knows what type of heat he was packing under his fake tourist clothes.

I head over to the taxi stand and try to call one through a machine. Beside me I hear someone say “don’t do that – it’s a waste of time. Just order it from the person over there.” I turn around and there’s this tall, hot guy, later to be known as Mr. Handball, walking past me. I yell thank you and start talking to the taxi coordinator, only to be in shock at the price to get to Tel Aviv. Still carrying my backpack, the hot guy is now in a taxi and motions for me to come over. I guess he too, noticed my anxiety, because he asked if I want to split the taxi with him since we’re headed in the same direction. His dad was seated in the front of the taxi, so it made me feel comfortable enough to say yes and literally get in a car with a stranger. We talk in the backseat throughout the drive and the driver drops them off first, but not before Mr. Handball asks for my number. Surprised yet again, this time however, I willingly gave my number. After he left, I couldn’t help but thinking: I’ve been in Israel for less than an hour, and have already been picked up twice. This is definitely something I could get used to.

Fast forward to the next day, Mr. Handball messages me and offers to take me out and show me around. I’m totally game and he picks me up Saturday night at 11pm from my hostel. He’s hotter than I remember and I’m already looking forward to my first Israeli hookup. Only in the car does he tell me that he’s a professional handball player and his first game of the season is the next day. Because of this, we can’t go to bars or clubs in Tel Aviv as we had originally planned because he can’t be seen out drinking the night before a game and Tel Aviv is relatively small, so he would definitely run into people he knew. Instead, we drive to a quiet street and sit on a closed restaurant’s patio drinking from my little Smirnoff mickey I brought (I always like to be prepared). He then pulls out some cigarettes, tells me he shouldn’t be smoking before the game either, but we go ahead and share a few anyways. I’m getting drunk at this point and he pulls me over to his lap and brings me in for a kiss. At this point we’ve run out of alcohol, so he offers going back to his place to grab some more alcohol before we go out to a club. Ignorant little me thought we’d just swing by his place first to quickly to down some shots and then head out but of course, we ended up having sex (which would seem obvious, in hindsight). Mr. Handball mentions that having sex before a game is also not good for performance but it’s not like it stopped his advances on me nor did I give a shit of how he played tomorrow as long as he was playing me well now.  By now it’s past 2am and all the clubs are near closing but we try driving around to find a nearby spot anyways. With no luck finding anything open at this time, he takes me to the beach and picks up some Israeli snacks for me to try (side note – they have the most amazing Cheetos type things made out of peanuts, it’s divine). It was a mixture of chilled out talking and cheeky high school fooling around until 5am before he dropped me back off at my hostel.

The next day he messaged me saying his team lost the game. I guess at this point I shouldn’t even be surprised, he did warn me. But – I was clear from the get-go that he couldn’t put the blame on me for making the decision to drink, smoke and have sex before a big game.

All in all, it is one of my personal favourite hookup stories. It’s just too bad it started from the moment I landed and began my vacation, as nothing after that lived up to the hype and excitement of my meeting Mr. Handball.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Mr. Laid in the Loo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mr. “Oh Yeah”

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Making noise in the bedroom is usually gratifying for both parties. When you hear a moan escape from your partner’s lips, you know you’re doing something right.

Unfortunately, some people take it out of hand. I’ve categorized these people into:

(1) Screamers
(2) Chatter-boxes
(3) Excessive moaners

The screamer is someone who sounds like they’re being ripped apart when they orgasm. They’re not just loud when they’re close to climaxing but rather release a shrill like yell, the type you hear in horror movies when someone just got caught by the murderer.

I lived with a screamer once. I thought I was home alone until I heard someone yell at the top of their lungs. I lunged for a kitchen knife because I thought someone broke into my apartment and killed my roommate. NOPE, just an orgasm.

The chatter-box can take one of two forms. The first is the overly-concerned chatter-box. This is the person who will repeatedly ask “do you like that?”. It’s important to be courteous to your partner but if I’m enjoying myself, shut up. The second is the dirty-talk chatter box. Some people may enjoy dirty talk, but everything has its limits. I’m comfortable with a few comments here and there but if you keep talking you’re going to ruin the mood. Like sir, we’re banging you’re not reading me erotica.

Recently, I encountered my favourite moaner. I have labeled this type the “oh no’s”.

I bumped into a guy I knew from undergrad a few weeks ago. We started chatting about a project we worked on together in school and how I was kind of a bitch because I was super keen. After reminiscing for a while we swapped numbers and said we’d catch up over drinks later that week.

Going for drinks, I had no idea whether this was a date or just two friends catching up. My plan was to go grab a couple drinks then go to a friend’s birthday party and have an early night.

Things didn’t quite play out as planned.

We met up for drinks at a really low-key place. We ended up really hitting it off. After a few hours of hanging out a couple of his friends came to join us at the bar. I mentioned my friend’s birthday and they took it as an invitation to join. So we all made our way to the next bar and continued to drink. Four beers and a gin-and-tonic later, this guy and I are making out on the dance floor like we’re first years at a frat-party.

Everything was going well and I was having a lot of fun with him. When he asked me to come back to his place, it only seemed natural to accept this invitation.

When we started fooling around I immediately had a flash back to that scene in Trainwreck where Amy Schumer is having sex with that really jacked guy and is just so not into it. At that moment I empathised with Amy.

This guy used to play football so he was pretty muscular. Unfortunately, while having sex there were points where he’d put all his weight on me. Having 180lbs crushing you isn’t really “sexy”. Not ideal but at this point I’m thinking it could only get better from there, right?

Wrong.

As I’m finally kind of getting into to it, I hear the words “oh yeah” escape his lips.

I’m thinking, okay… cool… guess I’m doing something right. Then I heard it again… and again… and again. This man was repeating the words “oh yeah” the entire fucking time.

There was a massive human being on top of me, closed eyes, and just repeating the phrase “oh yeah” while I lay silent and stunned. Was this man for real? Once the shock washed away the next step was not letting laughter escape me.

Like I was a participant in these activities. I could say from first-hand experience that it was not “oh yeah” worthy, much closer to “mmmm kay”. You’re not a god bud, you are a mere mortal with an average dong.

Dating Woes? You DESPERATELY Need to Read This Post

What’s the most vile word in the English language when it comes to matters of the heart?  I’ll give you a hint: Seth Cohen noticed it, Chandler Bing embodied it, and if you’re a millennial in today’s dating scene, you probably smell of it.

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Did you guess? If you did, well done! You’ve correctly identified the number one most avoided noun in the history of verbiage. Desperation in any form is bad enough as it is…no one says they’re jumping for joy desperation or choose to make the desperate choice first, but when it comes to dating this effect is 100 times worse.

Recently I heard an interesting podcast about the dominant hookup culture that rules the day (I swear my life doesn’t fully revolve around dating – just mostly). Sociologist Lisa Wade explained how a woman would rather be called a slut than be called desperate, because a slut may have slept with a bunch of guys but the desperate girl…well….at least when you’re a slut someone wants you.

*PAUSE TO TAKE IN THE FKD UP-NESS OF THAT SITUATION*

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What’s so sad is that I can’t even say that this is something I don’t identify with. I have definitely been in the unfortunate situation (more than once) where I did something with someone that I wasn’t fully comfortable with just to feel wanted, to feel like I fit in, or that I’m just like everyone else. Well, I’m here to tell you that the sad truth is that sleeping around doesn’t make you like everyone else. In fact, feeling desperate and alone probably brings you closer to feeling like the rest of us than getting laid does.

According to this article in NOW Magazine, which went absolutely VIRAL in Toronto, us Millenials are significantly less sexually active than our Gen X predecessors. People claim to be too busy for something meaningful and overwhelmed by all the option, and it’s really no wonder why. We work longer hours, spend more time with friends than family and let’s face it, technology is complicating everything. At the tips of our fingers are option after option making people feel dispensable, so should we really be surprised when they treat us like we are?

It’s unsurprising that if you’re constantly talking about sex but not having it that you’d wind up feeling a little desperado, and there is absolutely no shortage to the sexual imagery that exists in every facet of our culture. Even as I write this I’m surrounded by content hell-bent on turning me into an attention-seeking single. The desperate divas from The Bachelor Women Tell All are whining on TV, I’m listening to James Arthur’s “You’re Nobody till Somebody Loves You” and that article I mentioned earlier? The ad at the end was actually promoting a dating event for foodies!! ‘Foody call’…very subtle LOBLAWS.

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Realistically, sex when you’re dating falls into two main categories: a) completely meaningless or b) meaning everything. I swear, now more than ever, the only time you DON’T have sex with someone is when you actually like them. As if the very intimate act in and of itself is proof that you don’t care about the person you’re sleeping with. WHAT KIND OF TWISTED LOGIC IS THAT? Most shocking of all, this mentality is something we women actually STRIVE for. We want to appear aloof, detached and totally okay with it…the less you care the better off you are. HAH. That sounds healthy…

There really is no win for women because men want it both ways: they want a sexually deviant, hot woman who knows what she’s doing in the bedroom until they don’t. For a woman to be deemed acceptable of “wife-ing up” she should still be seen as “wholesome and respectful”, which apparently doesn’t mean being overtly sexual or too comfortable in the bedroom. See the problem? Not only do men have ALL the power in relationships, but they condemn us for embodying the very ideals that they promote. Most of the time we end up feeling cheap and desperate because the only thing harder than getting someone interested in you is keeping that interest for more than 10 seconds.

I had a very illuminating experience last weekend. I approached a guy at the bar and we had a great convo for quite a while. My friend “Julie” ended up cock-blocking me so when he asked me for my number later that night I was stoked. Well, without my knowledge, another friend of mine, “Sara”, berated her for being the world’s worst-wingwoman and told Julie to go fix the situation. Julie claims he asked her where I was but I have my doubts. The result? Me, left wondering if he asked for my number because he liked me or because someone told him to…Worst of all – how PATHETIC I feel for even explaining this to whomever reads this blog. Why? Because this shouldn’t be a big deal at all, but what started out as a nice interaction/little ego-boost ended up rocking my self-esteem.  When I messaged him later that night and got no reply I immediately felt like I was the poor girl who needed her friends to get someone to talk to her, even though I’m not. And that is not a good feeling.

As women we are often too hard on ourselves. We overthink our interactions with men and then get mad at ourselves for overthinking them – all because we don’t want to appear, you guessed it, DESPERATE. Who knows, maybe with time I’ll stop caring so much about looking some type of way. If a guy doesn’t like me for who I am then that’s on him not me. I’ll forget my fears and feel confident enough to say: “Hey, you’re great and we should hang out”.

Lol, Just kidding…I’m not that desperate.

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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.

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(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).

I’m Single and I Love Valentine’s Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

Celebrating My 3 Year Anniversary with Me, Myself and I

It was just another day as I stood in front of my pre-kindergarten class going through our morning routine: attendance, weather, counting, calendar. Nothing out of the ordinary, but today’s date made me stop a little dead in my tracks. I had forgotten about it, and especially about Mr.. High School Crush, but today it all came back in my mind because it would have been our three-year anniversary. Hold up. I can safely say that I haven’t thought about this guy in a long time and suddenly one date with a pretty big memory came and knocked me down like a sack of potatoes.

Obviously I made it through the day without giving it another real thought, but the car ride home from school and the rest of the night was a different story where my mind began obsessing over Mr. High School Crush: did he ever think about me? Does he remember that it is our anniversary? Has he moved on? Should I message him? Needless to say the questions and wonders were plentiful, and they led me to a thorough Facebook stalking (guilty) and a re-read of all of his past cards and letters that I thought were safely stowed away in the very back of my closet.

It was one of those nights that could have been well paired with a tub of ice-cream and some chick flicks, but I knew I was way over that and opted for a blog post and some girl-chat instead to come up with a few of my own “hard but important” truths following a break up:

Your ex is going to get over you whether you like it or not

I didn’t like this one at all. One of the comforts of my break-up was that I had the upper hand. It was on my terms, when I was ready and even though he hadn’t tried to talk me out of the break up, I knew that he still wanted to date me, even leaving me with the “one day I hope to end up with you”. Following the break up, he was quick to answer my texts, liked my instas, even left me a going away present and super cute card, and kept up with my life. It was comforting, and as betchy as it sounds, I liked the fact that I still had him wrapped around my finger. However, eventually, the communication stopped to the point where he would take weeks to answer me until our conversations have fizzled out to the point of non-existence. It hit me hard, but Mr. High School Crush did – what I thought – was impossible and he went on his life without me, and let me go on my life without him.

It’s okay to remember what it was like to be in love

One of my most guilty moments on “our” three year anniversary was the fact that I re-read all of those cards and notes from Mr. High School Crush, and even more guilty was how happy it all made me. At first I thought it was pathetic, and after some pep talking from the other DTT6 blogger Carrie, I felt a lot better about it. When I re-read those cards I couldn’t help but smile and felt the need to want to bury the hatchet and forget about all the fighting and crying there was at the end of the relationship. I know that I can look back on those 2.5 years and confidently say that the majority of it was happy and loving – making me feel a lot better and less concerned that I “wasted my time”. Reading those cards weirdly made me feel confident too: it was exciting to know and remember that someone can love you so much and think so highly of you (and was a great feeling to read it over and over, card after card). It was a sort of bitter sweet moment but was definitely an important step to not just getting over things, but getting over things in a positive and happy way!

Keep your friends close

Becoming the girl that I never wanted to become,  when I was in a relationship I was the girl that was obsessed with her boyfriend which unfortunately was at the expense of my friends. Towards the end of my relationship I realized how much neglecting I had done, and also how closed off I was to reconnecting with old friends and making new friends. Luckily for me, I realized how important friendships were when I was still in a relationship and I made an effort and continued to make an effort when I was single. I can safely say that my friends were the reason that I was super happy being single – from Galentines day to Disney World, my last 8 months of amazing experiences can all be attributed to some great friends.

“I had to let go of us to show myself what I could do”

Like every basic betch in the 6, once Views came out – I had it on repeat and this lyric really stuck with me. Being in a relationship made me feel trapped in a way, and the fact that it was so easy made me feel okay with complacency, and let me tell you I’ve never been okay with complacency. One of the reasons I waited to break up with Mr. High School Crush was because I was scared of what life would be like without, and I craved the comfort and security that came along with the relationship. The analogy that I used to describe the “fine” that was our relationship was like a boat: it wasn’t moving, but it wasn’t sinking and it was just stand still. Well let me tell you that stand still gets boring, and challenge and excitement is way more fulfilling. Once I mustered up all of my courage and broke up with him, my life became way more fun and exciting. I worked at the most magical place on earth (travelling around a lot too), scored a great job when I got home and balanced school. Now I’m planning more trips (with some of the other bloggers), have so much time for friends and adventure, and am even training to run a 5k! None of this would have even crossed my mind had I stayed in the relationship, and my “me” time has been put to good use!

Though it sucked remembering and thinking about how we would have celebrated our three year anniversary, I am happy that I had the day to think and reflect and celebrate for myself by myself. I have definitely seen the value of being a single pringle and have had some of the best and most fun experiences riding solo.

I wish all the best to Mr. High School Crush, as we should do to our exes (unless they’re actually evil, then no doubt we do not wish them the best), and I hope he lives happily ever after, as far away from me as possible.

 

The 7 stages of Getting Stood Up

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The Initial Inkling: You’ve made plans and things seem great, the big day arrives but…you guys aren’t texting. It’s ok, it’s cool…not a big deal. You don’t like texting all that much anyway, just message him if you haven’t heard anything after your shower…

Just message if you haven’t heard once your makeup is done…

Just message after this episode of How I Met Your Mother.

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The Breaking Point: Ok, so you’ve spent half the episode watching the clock and the other half checking your phone, enough is enough. It’s an hour before your date and the meeting place is at least a 40 min walk away….so you send a casual text: “Hey! Are you still good for 7-ish?”

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The Rationalization: “There’s no way!” you think to yourself. He seemed way more into you than you into him, if anything you should be the bailer instead of the bailed on! You think back to your most recent interactions, the sweet message suggesting how excited he was for your date, how he said he was “intrigued” by you and you’re totally flabbergasted. Maybe he got caught up at work, maybe his phone died, or maybe he was abducted by a terrorist organization that’s holding him captive until he builds them a weaponized, metal suit that ultimately defeats the terrorists and fight crime….

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The Iron Man scenario is totally plausible right?

The Realization: You open tinder (the birthplace of this beautiful relationship) and realize you can’t find your convo…He’s unmatched you, it’s 7:30 and you are text-less. You are officially being stood up.

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The Shame: You feel the colour rush to your cheeks when it hits you that this is real. You’re going to have to tell all your friends about this and that just friggen sucks. You don’t want to hear the supportive/pitying line “you’re too good for him” or that “there are plenty of fish in the sea”. You know that! Nonetheless, feelings of self-doubt envelop you as does the disappointing realization that you definitely won’t be hooking up tonight.

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The AW HELL NAW: At this point you magically transform into a strong, independent black woman who don’t need no man. Who dafaq does this guy think he is fkin witchu…. He’s nothing special and you are a queen. You run through all his potential faults  in your head and conclude that if he doesn’t want to meet you, it’s his loss…You laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation and finish off the glass of chardonnay sitting on the coffee table.

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Acceptance: You say “F*** IT”. Put on a push up bra, your fave pair of heels and get the eff back out there. There is NO use sitting on your ass moping over someone who did you wrong. Realistically, if he’s the type to pull this shit then do you really want that kind of guy anyway? Save yourself the pity party, take a shot and go have some fun!

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Mr. Views of the 6ix

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I go to meet him at the subway stop close to his place and all I’m thinking is please don’t let him be short. Please don’t let him be short. Because if he’s short, I’m screwed. I can’t very well turn around and be like “Naw I’m good, ttyl”. Here I am, it’s Saturday night, 1:30 in the morning, and I’m waiting on a street corner for some guy from j-swipe. I know…how in the fuck am I actually here again.

Luckily, he wasn’t short. Not tall per say, but a good two inches more than me so I’ll count this one as a win. He also looked just like his online profile which was a refreshing change and I’m thinking “Great, all signs point to go so far”. So we go to his apartment and this place was GORGEOUS. Like, well-furnished, floor to ceiling windows and the most incredible view of the city I’ve ever seen. He lives in Yorkville, so you’ve got the CN tower to the left and uptown to the right. I couldn’t help but feel fancy af in a place like this, and as a young professional LIVING AT HOME, it was totally my fantasy apartment. Literally, this place was the “come-to-life” version of fantasy locations I’ve had in the past. Needless to say, the mood was set the moment I walked through the door.

We end the “apartment tour” in his bedroom where things heated up pretty quickly. While we didn’t have the most amazing conversational chemistry, our physical connection was undeniable. We had a fantastic time together and to put it plainly I’ll say I barely slept all night.

I could probably end the post here, but have decided to include some of racy details instead because (I think) they’re too hilarious not to share. However, this is definitely a little TMI for a public site, so if you’re not into that kind of thing I’d suggest skipping to the last paragraph now.

We get right to it and I quickly notice he has a full-length, mirrored closet right next to his bed. My first thought is “Omg you can see everything, this is my nightmare.” I mean, who wants to see what they look like bumping uglies? Clearly not Ross and Rachel in  “The One with the Videotape”, when they realize how horrifyingly awkward sex can look. The quotes “Ew” and “Oh, that’s not pretty” are particularly memorable. Well, after a few minutes I realize “Omg you can see everything, but this is really hot!” Unlike the episode of Friends we were both really into seeing it all play out and I warmly welcomed the mirror as a prop in my love life.

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The face you make when the sex looks awkward af

Anyway, end of round 1 I am on top (of the pyramid…hello*) and Mr. Views hoists me up to place me on the bed beside him. Unfortunately, he misjudges the edge of the mattress and much to my surprise, tosses me directly onto the floor. I was so thrown off (literally and figuratively) that I burst out laughing at the thought of what I looked like sprawled naked on his floor next to my new best friend, the mirror.

Alright, so I’m trying not to harp on the intimate details of my sex life because that has never really been what this blog is about. I do, however, want to take this opportunity to highlight the topic of butts.

I am a butt virgin. I have never ventured to the nether region and have no current interest in doing so. In fact, the whole idea freaks me out. Generally speaking, I am a sexually open person, I just have legit 0 interest in something being stuck in my butt when I’m not bored of having it stuck in my front just yet. Funnily enough, this is what led to LOL moment numero dos from my night with Mr. Views, self-proclaimed ‘butt guy’. About five minutes after the “tossed-off-the-bed” incident, we’re cuddling  when out of nowhere he whispers: “Should I get the lube”.

Honestly, I had to do my very best not to burst out laughing (again!) because the comment was just so out of place and soooo unsexy in that moment. While I’m all for a slap or a little roughness, I was not interested in losing my be-hymen that night and politely declined his offer. I’m not forever opposed to the idea, but was not looking to make my first time with a hyper-active, butt-obsessed random, whose most redeeming quality was his taste in décor.

And finally, the piece de resistance, my crowning achievement and most Sex and the City-esque moment of all time. We’re hooking up for umpteenth that night and had decided to take our sexual relations into new territory: the kitchen.

Sidebar for Mr. Views’ roommate: I deeply apologize for defouling your oven, but it provided great leverage and I can safely say that the oven wasn’t the only thing cooking with gas that night, buh dum tsssss.

 Bad jokes aside, my spot on the oven provided a perfect vantage point of that fan-fucking-tastic view of Toronto and I may have actually gotten turned on by how beautiful it was. I know this sounds pretty absurd but I was so into that apartment, the view, and this mental idea of having “made it” that I don’t even think Mr. Views had to have been there for me to be having a good time.

Yup, I’m a freak in all definitions of the word.

So props to you Mr. Views of the 6ix! Good sex is hard to have the first time around but we really figured it out. I doubt we’ll be more than fuck buddies but I can almost guarantee we’ll see each other again. It is a little weird acting this way when at the end of the day I know I want a relationship. I mean, the whole reason I have been using j-swipe exclusively is because I want to meet people I could actually end up with. But the fact remains that I will not be in love with every single guy – or likely any single guy – that I meet on these dating apps. So, if I happen to find a cute, nice guy, with an AMAZING apartment who satisfies some of my needs, would I be me if I said no?

 

*John Tucker Must Die reference. If you didn’t get it, then why are you even reading this blog?BiTqpH2IQAANyPq.jpg