Mr. Special Ops

Carrie – When my friend offered me her place to stay in Seoul and my credit card supplied me with free flights, I impulsively booked my four Asian-metropolis trip for May: Tokyo, Shanghai, Busan and Seoul.

We met interesting people along the way, that’s for sure. One night in Tokyo, we ended up at as the only two girls at this karaoke bar, where I proceeded to get serenaded and dipped by the big, burly bartender to Enrique Iglesias’ “Hero” (song is forever ruined).

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Cue to my last weekend Seoul, where I develop what I will term “Seoul Goggles” which is essentially a “do it for the blog” mentality.

Continue reading “Mr. Special Ops”

Mr. Heart Emoji – Part Two

[Hey, if you haven’t read Part One, you might get confused. Click the link here!]

Carrie – In true blackout fashion, I remember saying “cheers” with my gal pal and Mr. Heart Emoji on our third round of tequila shots. Then not much more.

I am blackout at the pre but in cruel, cruel fashion, my brain can recall one interaction. Profusely flirting with Mr. Grilled Cheese, we end up as the only two people in the one of two rooms, probably because I was making everyone uncomfortable with my aggressive flirtation. (I was told later I was doing this IN FRONT OF Mr. Heart Emoji because I am a fuckgirl). I drunkenly confess to Mr. Grilled Cheese, “Well like you’re the last person I’ve slept with! Aren’t I the last person you’ve slept with?”

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I still cringe at how much of an embarrassment I like to make my life. Then he stutters “uhhhh” for approximately a minute. I save him by telling him I know I’m not, call him a manwhore, and top it off with a, “But I know you’re into me.” To my dismay, he answers, “A little bit.” Me: “A little bit?” “Yeah, a little bit.” I swear I probably would have mounted him right there if we weren’t in public cause I am such a horny little drunk.

I end up at a bar. How I got there, not too sure. As far as I’m concerned, Mr. Grilled Cheese was not there. I remember snippets of sitting in a booth with my gal pals and Mr. Heart Emoji, and also snippets of drinking water out of the bathroom faucet, just to prove that 23 is still not a classy age. I think I had fun and my Visa bill proves that.

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Accurate depiction of me receiving my visa bill.

Now the next bit is where it gets interesting. There is a 24 hour diner near the bars in Ottawa. At that point, I was not aware of this. (Now that I am, that Visa bill will only continue to grow.)

Mr. Heart Emoji and I wind up there. Alone. I deduce he must have asked me to go at 2 AM because I’m confused why we’re in a booth alone and none of our friends join us. But I happily order a $16 burger (one that I later proceed not to eat a single bite of) when a classmate shows up. Now let’s call him Tree cause he is ridiculously tall and dresses like a lumberjack. Tree starts by asking if he’s interrupting me and Mr. Heart Emoji. We say no, then he sits beside me and Tree asks, “but you guys are gonna bang tonight, right?”

Continue reading “Mr. Heart Emoji – Part Two”

Mr. F*** Boy

Guest Post!!! The following entry is from our newest contributor to DTT6 and we know you’re going to love her 🙂 Sign off in the comment section below and let us know what you think. 

I am excited to share with you quite an exhilarating story that is quite out of character for me. The experience taught me a lot about myself, what I want in a man and more importantly all about the modern day fuck boy.  We have all heard of him or encountered him  – the boy/man who at the end of the day just wants to fuck and nothing else. It can be quite fun but does the short-term pleasure make the potential long-term aggravation worth it? Lets find out.

We matched on JSwipe and our conversation quickly escalated to the topic of “What brings you to this app?” He blatantly mentioned that he was strictly looking for someone to connect with on a physical level. At first I was a little weary but after casually talking for a few days his texts made me straight up horny. He expressed everything he liked in bed and explained to me that he definitely had a kinky side. He sounded spontaneous, exciting and made me feel comfortable about my desires and fantasies.  We would text all day until finally I couldn’t take it any longer – I wanted this guy! I wanted to unleash my wild side and told myself to have fun and go for it so we planned to meet up.

At approximately 9:00pm on a Thursday night, after a fashion show, I stood at the corner of King and John waiting for Mr. Fuck Boy to roll up and pick me up at the side of the road. (Seriously how fucked up and unsafe is that.) I entered this stranger’s car with a lot of nerves but they quickly faded away after he greeted me with a kiss! I was totally taken back but after we started to talk I couldn’t believe what a normal and nice guy he was. He drove to Cherry Beach and parked his car in the parking lot upon arrival. We wasted no time and had sex in the back of his car. Due to the lack of space, limbs were everywhere, clothes were stuck and we were very squished and close together. Positions were limited but this romp got the job done. I was satisfied. The chemistry was great and overall it was a totally fun, carefree and awesome experience. He drove me to where my car was parked and that was it for the night.

We made plans to do it all over again a few days later at a hotel that he had booked. To be honest I felt like a hoe meeting a guy at a hotel but YOLO. The sex was much better in a bed this time around and I found him to be quite cuddly for a Fuck Boy. After getting to know him more and having him tell me that he was not interested in engaging in any activity other then sex, I realized that I was just another casual fuck girl of his.  This guy was totally all about “why buy the cow when I can get the milk for free.” It didn’t sit very well. I didn’t want to be cuddled and caressed by someone I couldn’t catch feelings for. Overall, I had a great time with him and really enjoyed myself. We parted ways a few hours later with a quick kiss and left things as “see ya later.” He went three days without texting me, which is not necessarily a bad thing, but after I responded back to that message it took him another three days to respond. Ummm what? Mr. Fuck Boy better had his thumbs cut off or something?! Too long. Point blank, unacceptable in my opinion. Three days for a response did not sit well with me, like come on you’re not dead. After addressing this behaviour as a major red flag I realized that even if this was just a casual romp I should be texted back within a decent amount of time and at the end of the day I want more than just sex. I want a great dinner companion for the pre or post event – like lets be real! Anyways, after he expressed interest to meet again (after mentioning that he has been really busy lately) I politely declined telling him that even though I really enjoyed sleeping with him and that I had a truly amazing time, we wanted different things and it was best to not do it again. He put up no fight and accepted what I said with an “okay.” The End.

I learned a couple things about myself. Firstly, I definitely have a kinky side that I’d like to further explore and secondly I’m a total sex goddess and proud of it.  Despite these lessons, I realized that as a classy woman with high self-esteem, it is important for me to be treated like one. I know that I am more than just a body for some guy to fuck and its okay to say no and not give in especially if it won’t make me feel good or give me what I want.  There have been moments where after spending time with other boring guys who don’t sexually excite me I have considered re-connecting with Mr. Fuck Boy but at the end of the day I remind myself that it is just not a good idea. My advice to all you classy bitches out there is to know your self worth and don’t settle for a Mr. Fuck Boy who can’t give everything you want.

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”

Mr. Namaste

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Carrie – I had a rough week. One of my coworkers from my job in September passed away at 22. We had hit it off right off the bat when she would force me to stop working and eat with her in her office while we jammed to old school R&B. She even invited me to go with her friends to a cottage for a weekend after only a week of working together. She always offered to get me coffees and lunches, often bringing something back for me when I said no, because that’s how generous and caring of a person she was. Hearing of her passing, it took me for an emotional rollercoaster to say in the least. True, I hadn’t known her for long. True, I hadn’t hung out with her more than twice outside of work. But the shock of knowing a peer your age, someone so beautiful and kind and good, can be snapchatting you one day and gone the next… still gives me shivers.

I resorted to my emotional salvation: yoga. More specifically, 42 degree heated room of 40 people who are all sweating-to-the-max bikram yoga. Practicing silence and clearing the mind of the outside world, even for an hour, was exactly what I needed.

In walks Mr. Namaste. (Feels kind of insensitive to be still checking out guys when you’re emotionally all-over the place, but hey, we all got our own coping mechanisms right?) Since October, he has been in all of my classes (probably because he practices every day). Surprisingly, he’s very hockey-bro manly with a deep voice and broad shoulders, not your stereotypical yogi. If I were to compare him to a celebrity, it would definitely be Chris Hemsworth since they have practically the same hairstyle and matching eyes. Nevertheless, I have been checking him out for a while now but never did we exchange more than a glance, an “excuse me,” or “thanks” to one another. (One time, he held the door open for me and let me go ahead of him. ISN’T MY LIFE RIVETING?) On this particular class, we happen to have our mats right next to each other and I spend the 90 minutes more distracted than focused tbh, thinking of how sweaty our sex sessions would be (#nofilter). I vow to talk to him at the end of the class, but he was gone by the time I changed as he always is. I remember thinking “maybe he’s one of those crushes that will forever stay a fantasy and that’s okay.”

Thoughts of him aside, I go out on Friday evening. Instead of heading to my normal King Street party district, my childhood best friend Hillary* and I head to hipster haven, aka Queen-West, to a bar called Brooklynn. I’m macking on this hot accountant and things are headed in the right direction… until I find out he’s from Vancouver and only in for a conference. I find myself putting up a wall and heading to the bar to relocate my gal pal. Hill* is saying things like “what?!? yaaas girl, just go and fuck him, who cares” while she’s been with her boyfriend for three years and another ex for three years before that. IMHO, when you’re getting a regular fuck for six years, you don’t know the strugs of one night stands.

Then, out of the yoga gods’ hands: Mr. Namaste is right beside me on the dance floor. Incredulous, I ask,“Hey, are you- do you go to BeHot Yoga?” He smiles and we talk for a bit but I leave to find Hill*. She, on the other hand, is OUT TO GET ME (laid). She walks to Mr. Namaste’s friend, telling him to give me Mr. Namaste’s number. The friend misinterprets the sitch and starts trying to makeout with her and then I’m awkwardly coming out of the bathroom trying to figure out what’s going on. That’s when Mr. Namaste comes up to me and I’m embarrassed, realizing the situation Hill* was trying to get going and I end up putting my number in his phone. Hill* tiptoes away, giving me a thumbs up. Mr. Namaste and I begin to flirt when I see his friend beside us aggressively trying to makeout with a girl who is blatantly pushing him away. I point out the situation and laugh, to which Mr. Namaste replies, “yeah that’s my roommate and my ex girlfriend. I told him to go for her.” #AWKWARD.

I figure out they dated for five years, long distance from Dalhousie (Halifax) to Waterloo (Waterloo). Probably a little TMI… Beyond that, why would you ever tell your roommate to fuck your ex, especially when he’s presumably going to be going to YOUR PLACE? Regardless, we head to the dance floor and when he does this hair swoop thing, I call him out on it. “I think you like it actually,” and it sucks cause I did, then he leans in and we make out.

It’s probably 2:45 a.m. at this point so it’s decision time. Do I make my yoga fantasies a reality? Mr. Namaste turns to talk to his roommate and when he turns back around, the dance floor has cleared out save for me (texting alone like a loser) and this group of girls beside me. Mr. Namaste returns and I smile at him, pretty much prepared to go home with him. But he turns to talk to the group of people beside me, touching one of the girl’s arms. In a drunken rational of “fuck this guy,” I dip without saying bye and even resist the urge to get King’s Slice as I taxi home.

As it always does, Monday rolls around and I head to yoga class after work. I made sure that I wore my new Pink push up sports bra, just in the more-than-likely chance I see Mr. Namaste. Sure enough, we make eye contact from the door window but I quickly glance away (because I am a very awkward person). He jokes with the yoga teachers, smiling before heading in. I glance at him but he breezes by me without the slightest eye contact. Even if it was just a d-floor makeout, I think we could at least say hello now that we’ve swapped some saliva but maybe that’s just me.

Of course I don’t see him after class but I figure he has my number. Loyal followers, should I follow up and pursue this guy or move onto the next one? These next few weeks of yoga could be potentially tip-toeingly awkward if we keep pretending the other doesn’t exist. But at least it’s yoga and we don’t have to talk.

Namaste betches.

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.

Mr. Cardigan

Carrie – After my brief stint of being a very unsuccessful Toronto ‘f*ckgirl’, I diagnosed myself with “the boy crazies” and decided it would be best for my mental health, self-worth, and the sanity of my closest friends (who listened to me vent from one boy to the next) to take a break from boys. I deleted my dating apps and started wearing big sweaters to prep for my lonely cuffing season.

“But what about the blog?” I protested (to myself). Well the blog would have to wait.

It’s kind of funny what happens when you decide to stop chasing something. In my case at least, I found that I was being chased instead. Suddenly, I’m no longer swiping on my phone, not looking for guys and over the course of three weeks, I get asked out four times. Four!

One guy went to my high school and was a cool senior with dreads in some of the drama productions. Some of the girls said he was cute, but I could never get past his constant dank scent. I work with the three other guys at the restaurant and there must be a pool going on or something because they’re all making moves on me. One bartender, a stand-up comedian standing at 6’4″, asked me out but is constantly texting other girls in front of me #fukboi; one sk8er kitchen guy who is… not the brightest bulb?; and the last bearded guy who is biologically a girl. Don’t get me wrong – I’m very open minded but this guy wouldn’t even be my type had there not been an added issue that I am strictly-dickly and he is… not.

So there’s that. It was flattering to be asked out in person by these guys but shitty to not reciprocate any of their feelings. After Mr. Blind Spot, I thought I would never like someone again and I would lose that great feeling of having a crush.

Cue Mr. Cardigan. One mild December night in the 6ix, partying with my gurl Samantha, we headed to the Ballroom. I arrived around midnight when thirst levels were in full force and I had spent the next two hours drinking, dancing with friends, finding Samantha on the phone in a bathroom stall with Mr. Benefits (#exposed), and running away from aggressive Russian dudes who kept coming up to me even though I had made it vehemently clear I did not want his drink.

“Vhy you so lonely? All by your lonesome.” (P.S. It’s really hard to write a Russian accent.)

 “I’m not lonely. Oh look my friends are over there!” *I point to a random group of girls cause I was v drunk and moderately lost*

“Vell if you want to valk avay to see them, you can.” He tries to flirt.

I think he’s shocked when I take him up on his offer, say a “k bye!” and bail into a crowd.

Now I am essentially blackout at this point but hiding amongst the tall people near the edge of that dance-floor, I remember Mr. Cardigan walking up to me. Blonde hair, blue eyes, waffle knit navy cardigan over a white t-shirt and these beautiful brown oxford-like boots, could you be more of a generic white boy? Whatever, I was into it. I may have been blackout, but the fact that his outfit stuck in my mind meant I was sold.

Snippets of the night that I can recall:


1.

*Three of my friends find me and Mr. Cardigan at around 2:00 a.m. and say goodbye to me, all one at a time.*

Mr. C: Why are you so popular?

Me: (Basic voice) ugh, you know, it just happens.


2.

*15 min later*

Mr. C: So do you wanna get out of here?

Me: Sure. But I am NOT sleeping with you!

(This is a classic Carrie line regardless of whether I do or not.)


3. 

*Exiting the club. I start walking left.*

Mr. C: Wait, didn’t you say you lived at __ & __? That’s this way.

Me: (Pretending I’m good with directions) Yeah, but aren’t we getting burrito?

Mr. C: Are we?!

Me: (Shrugs) Guess not.


4.

Us  making out on my couch. He removes my bra and I immediately cover my breasts.

“We can’t do this here. I promised my sister!”

She was luckily away on vacation.


5.

Him picking me up and tossing me on my bed. Hot.


6.

Him going down on me. And me passing out… BUT not before saying something extremely weird like “we’re all just Pokemon/Mickey Mouse characters.” I don’t know which show was worse to bring up at that moment.


7.

Us taking things a step further but when he wanted to have sex, blackout Carrie said no. Kudos to her for that act of self restraint! He protests and asks why not? I say, “Because. Do you even know my name?”

He didn’t.


8.

Me asking him to leave. Him apologizing, seeming genuinely embarrassed, and putting on his shirt. Me letting him crash on my couch seeing as it was 4 a.m. but then changing my mind and offering him a chance to naked cuddle in my twin bed.


 

The next morning, I woke up hangry and hungover, forcing myself to get up so I could a) pee, b) sneak out and brush my teeth and c) make turkey bacon and eggs. I made him some too (cause I’m so domestic) and when he thanked me, I said “Best. Hookup. Ever.” in Comic Book Guy’s voice. Because it honestly probably was the best morning for this guy consisting of a BJ and bacon before it was even 9 a.m. The fact he laughed at my crazy instead of running away is a good sign. He even asked for my number!

Alas, as fate would have it, I was leaving to Mexico for a family vacation for two weeks and it’s always awkward to start something up to have it be interrupted. I mean, so much can change in two weeks. Hell, so much had seemed to change in one night. But I had a crush again and that was enough for the books blog.

 

Mr. New York – Part 1

Miranda – My heart is pounding. My thoughts are erratic. I can’t sleep and when I finally do, I only dream of him.

Mr. New York. A fitting name, not only because he is from New York but, like the city itself, he makes me feel like anything’s possible. The world’s my oyster and someone incredible is out there for me, even if they live in a different country.

Let’s rewind to about 3 weeks ago when I decided to try my luck on OkCupid again. As you can tell from my previous posts, I haven’t exactly been successful on Tinder so I’m giving OkCupid another shot. After spending a week on there, I have become inundated with messages from slimy men and I’m left feeling quite unenthused with this alternate form of dating. Yes, maybe the messages themselves aren’t as sexually charged but the greasy moustached men aren’t particularly doing it for me either. I was losing hope fast until I received a message from an adorably dimpled guy from New York.

Oddly enough, earlier that day I met up with my ex-boyfriend for lunch, a year after from our breakup (a story for another time), and I finally got the closure I needed from that brief but intense relationship. I was ready to start again, turn the page, wipe the chalkboard clean, and whatever other kitschy line there is to depict a new beginning. So, Mr. New York popped into my life at the perfect moment. You might be wondering why I would even consider responding to someone so far away but my logic was “fuck it – YOLO, he’s cute and I don’t have much to lose at this point.”

2 days later, my phone had become glued to my hands. Our messages are fast and furious and I’m finding myself quickly gaining feelings for Mr. New York. He’s sweet, genuine, and so much fun to talk to. Our conversation flows so smoothly and it quickly has become second nature to wake up and go to sleep thinking about him. I can’t say I’ve ever felt like this with anyone else in such a short period of time too. Mr. New York is what I like to call perfectly imperfect. I’m not delusional and I realize he, like everyone else, has flaws but I choose to embrace them wholly.

By the third day, a Skype “date” session had become inevitable. I remember being nervous but he quickly settled my nerves and we talked for 2 hours before I forced myself to go to the gym. Mr. New York over Skype was what I pictured -dimply smile and all- and I felt extremely comfortable. Upon my return, we decided to Skype for the second time that day and I was relieved to see that he did not cower in fear of my post-gym look: sweaty, hair up, and no makeup. From there, we discussed the topic of visiting each other, and we resolved that it would make most sense for me to come to him in New York due to work schedules.

The next day, after a lot of back and forth deliberation and a healthy dose of persuasion from Mr. New York, I bought my round trip plane ticket (crazy, I know). Doing something so impromptu is very unlike me. For anyone that knows me, I like structure, plans, and thinking things through. But, it feels right and I’m at the prime moment in my life where I can afford to take chances like this.

Today marks 3 weeks since we started talking. Since then, we’ve been messaging 24/7 and Skyping every day, counting down the days till our eventual meet up. With every moment that passes, there is an electric combination of excitement and anxiousness. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and possibilities but this is a chance that I must take or else I know I’ll regret it. My bag is packed and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I leave tomorrow.

How far would you go for the possibility of love?

Well, seems like I’m about to find out. Peace out 6ix, hello New York City.