Carrie – Hey, it’s me. Someone you don’t know and someone you probably will never know. The only reason why I’m aware we’re connected in this universe is because we were both intimate with someone who once meant a lot to me. I just have so many questions for you though and the unknown has been bothering me.
So you just started seeing him – my ex. I imagine you met on Tinder cause he never goes out or does anything social, including interact with humans.
A couple of weeks ago my roommate and I were involved in our favourite Sunday ritual: rom-coms, Uber Eats and vegetating on the couch. We’ve passed many a weekend watching Cameron Diaz in “The Sweetest Thing”, Cameron Diaz in “The Holiday”, Cameron Diaz in “The Other Woman”…you get the idea, she plays ‘hard-ass looking for love’ quite well. Anyway, on this particular Sunday we flipped on “What’s Your Number”, a silly story about Anna Farris’ character tracking down her 20 ex-ual partners (Trademark: Samantha Jones) to see if any of them are worth a second shot. Why, you ask? Well, thanks to trashy magazines designed to make women feel miserable, her character learns that the average number of partners a woman has in her lifetime is 8, and anyone over 20 is deemed “unmarriable”- a category that she finds herself in right before her younger sister’s wedding….yikes on bikes.
Now, my roomie and I are usually quite talkative during our slothy Sundays, constantly interjecting to discuss drama from the previous night or to comment on the latest pic of avo toast on Instagram….but as we watched a VERY skinny Anna flirt with a VERY gorgeous Chris Evans, we were both oddly quiet. About half an hour into the movie I looked at her and awkwardly said: “Doesn’t 8 feel kind of low?” To my relief she immediately agreed, having been wondering the exact same thing.
This got us thinking…is 8 really the average? It felt kind of low to us but honestly, we’ve been known to be a wild pair so maybe we were the outliers? Thus, we set out on a noble quest for the sake of all womankind: conduct an experiment to determine what today’s average truly is (amongst our friends at least).
So, once again I don my scientist lab coat and present to you, TheThirsty Thesis: A study investigating the response pattern of millennial women when questioned on their sexual history.
Thesis: The average number of sexual partners a woman has in her life is greater that 8, contrary to that reported in “What’s Your Number”.
Method: We sourced voluntary responses from 19 of our friends to determine statistically significant results (Funny, had we gotten one more participant our list would’ve been deemed unmarriable…).
The mean was 20, however, the median and mode were both 14. For those of you forgetting statistics, the mean is the average, median is the middle number and the mode is the most frequently reported number.
These data points show that we had a high degree of variability in our results, with a couple numbers largely skewing the data. Removing the bottom and top 2 outliers to adjust for this variance (I told you I’m a scientist), the more accurate average amongst us was 15 sexual partners.
If the girl’s unsure, don’t listen to her. EVERY TIME someone was unsure of her number and reported two potential responses, she’d end up realizing the higher number was true when pushed to confirm.
In my expert opinion, this highlights a subconscious pressure amongst women to keep their number low, as no one actively admitted to misrepresenting themselves for any reason other than failure to recall.
Three participants asked for clarification on what actually counted, providing further support for the hypothesis that women will try to lower their number wherever possible.
The difference between the highest and lowest number reported was 78 people.
For those of you gasping, don’t…this was a significant outlier and honestly…to each their own. See ‘Discussion’ below for further details on “slut-shaming”.
When the numbers seemed too low, I polled more sexually promiscuous friends of mine…sue me, I was 3rd highest on the list until 90% of the polling was complete.
This study relied on self-report, which given on the sensitive subject matter may not be an accurate reflection of the proper numerical response..
If you’re a sexually active woman in 2018, the topic of your number is definitely something you’ve thought about at least once (in the last week). Post after post on DTT6 highlights our sexual exploits, with some referring to the count explicitly (Sorry Carrie, there’s no such thing as a 10 a & 10 b 😉 ) and others shying away from posting about every tantalizing tale (myself being one of the biggest perpetrators here). Come to think of it, I’ve actually even added a notch to my metaphorical bedpost since conducting this study…
Nonetheless, whether you report a 2 or a 20, there seems to be a connotation attached to the number of partners you have as somehow reflecting of the kind of person that you are. In my mind, this is completely absurd and totally problematic. The “2”, who may be cautious with her heart or just had multiple long term relationships, is no better or no worse than the “20”, who may be focused on her career or just hasn’t met the right guy to settle down with. When you’re perpetually single and want to have a lot of sex you end up sleeping with a lot of people, it’s just the reality of the situation.
And honestly, the very idea that a woman is somehow deemed “unmarriable” because she surpassed an arbitrary number picked to be “normal” is both archaic and downright offensive. The tagline for this very movie perfectly points out the root of the problem: Women subtract, men add. This common-held conception posits that men can have as many partners as they want and this is acceptable, but women should remain pure for their husbands. Though pre-dating the 1950’s, this ideal really took off when Hugh Hefner (RIP) brought to life the modern ‘Bachelor’ with the introduction of Playboy. Keep in mind, this was a marketingconstruction, built to sell magazines and a lifestyle to sad consumers who needed an outlet from their painfully repressed suburban lives.
Sidenote: If you don’t know the history behind Playboy, Penthouse & Bachelor pads, you totally should read on up…it’s beyond fascinating and such an interesting outcome from that time period. I’d suggest “The answer to suburbia: Playboy’s urban lifestyle.” Fraterrigo, Elizabeth. (2008). Journal of Urban History 34 (5): 747-774. It’s accessible online AND YES THAT IS A PROPER MLA CITATION THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
But I digress…Despite Hef’s genius marketing strategy, there really shouldn’t be differences in the way that men and women are perceived for the sexual choices that they make. I’m not naive to think that we can fully disrupt these norms, but we all biologically have hormones, so I refuse to support an antiquated ideal that forced women to wear CHASTITY BELTS to contain their sexual urges. Women want it just as men do and this is not blasphemous by any means.
I am not saying that there isn’t a point in time where being sexually frivolous can be unfair to your partner and to yourself, especially if you aren’t taking necessary precautions. However, I truly believe that as long as you are being safe, respectful and doing your thing for the right reasons, you should feel empowered to sow your seeds in whatever field you’d like (Farming euphemism for the win!). To me this means owning your choices and making them because you want to, not because they may perceived one way or another by someone else.
End of the day I still enjoyed parts of this movie – particularly Chris Pratt as Disgusting Donald and Andy Samberg as the sexually-perverse puppeteer – but I CANNOT STAND the ending message. Anna ends up with Chris Evans’ character, finally accepting that she can cross 20 partners and still get married, only to find out that she didn’t actually sleep with one of the guys and Evans is her 20th partner, putting her in the marriage range….wow, progressive AF you guys. One small step for feminism, followed by one subsequent face-plant into gender normativity.
Forget everything this study has taught you. While it was fun to do and actually quite informative, the lesson here that is way more important than knowing how you compare to an average of your peers. It’s about realizing that the number of partners you have does not determine your self-worth. It is the choices you make that define who you are. Now that’s a tagline I can get behind.
In my free time, I’ve become a dating tip connoisseur. In fact, it’s almost a hobby at this point. I’ve been soaking up everything I can from Youtube videos, dating coaches and podcasts to learn everything I can to successfully date in the social media/technological age that we’re in. I think it’s a fascinating world and there’s so much content to learn from. In conversation with Sam the other day, she suggested I pull together a shortlist of tips that I’ve found effective so far in my life. Although there are specific do’s and dont’s from what I’ve listed, it’s not so much about the exact wording or protocol about doing things. Instead, it’s more about your mental state and approach to conducting yourself to date in a positive, healthy and self-respectful way.
So here goes, in no particular order, what I’ve found works best for me:
Don’t contact him after the first date. Unless you forgot something or he said to text you when you got home safely, let him make the move. Having him text first when he’s ready will show an indication of his interest level. Too often I’ve gone on dates and focused on gauging MY attraction to them when I realize that’s only half the battle.
Let him take the initiative to make plans. I want a guy that takes initiative and isn’t afraid to setup the plan. If he puts the ball back in your court, just say you’re up for anything and to surprise you. Having him put the effort in is also an indication of his interest level.
Keep the texts short and sweet. It doesn’t need to come across rude, keep it flirty but get to the point. The purpose of texting should be make plans, not to get to know each other via message. As long as you’ve found out the basics about him and there’s somewhat of a common interest, everything about him can be learned on the actual date.
If you’re unsure about the guy, make it a coffee date. It’s short, quicker and not as expensive as dinner or drinks. And if you both find out you like each other, it’s easy to transition into a drinks date after.
Take the time to evaluate your hard yes’s and maybe’s. You don’t need a must have list of 20 physical qualities and characteristics – it’s not realistic, but focus more on the values and morals that you’d want in a person. At the same time keep an open mind on the date, he may surprise you and you may discover certain things you didn’t realize you’d be attracted to.
Do not ever feel like you owe a guy anything after a date, no matter how much he’s spent on you. You are in control of your own body.
If you can and are able, date multiple people casually at the same time. Trust me, I haven’t figure out how to successfully do it yet myself but I am told it is the healthiest approach to dating. By not focusing all your energy (and therefore desperation) on one guy, you can feel more at ease knowing that you have options and can take your time when evaluating for a good partner before you get into anything serious.
If he cancels or comes across flakey, give him the benefit of the doubt and allow him to reschedule. If he doesn’t, move on. You’re not a top priority in his mind and you shouldn’t waste your time on someone who sees you as an afterthought.
Self-reflect on your dating goals. What are you looking for? Are your actions and behavior aligning with your goals? Alter as necessary. There have been times where I say I’m looking for a relationship, but in truth, my body seems to yearn for something more casual. Coming to that realization was eye-opening for me and allowed me to tailor my dating style based on what I was looking for at the time.
Above all, respect yourself and those around you. You deserve to have someone treat you well, and you should treat them in kind. If it’s not the right fit, don’t force it just because you’re lonely, it may damage you more in the long run.
That was just a few of the things I’ve learned over the years. It might not be to everyone’s taste but I think there is a fundamental vein of truth that runs throughout them. Let me know your thoughts or if you have any tips to share with our readers as well.
Last weekend I was catching up on a couple episodes of Jane the Virgin, the amazingly exaggerated CW telenovela, when I was struck by how much I related to the usually over-dramatic show. ‘Chapter Seventy-Five’ centred around the concept of “re-framing”, a narrative device that uses previously withheld information to reshape the context of the plot. In Jane’s storyline, the episode focused on re-framing her relationship with old flame Jonathan Chavez, her hot graduate professor that she almost lost her virginity to. This episode really struck a nerve with me, dredging up emotions I’ve been wrestling with the past few months and rousing me from a 2.5 month blogging stupor. Jane, and her complex relationship with Chavez so articulately encapsulate everything I feel toward Mr. Man. So to borrow a page from Jane’s own playbook, I’ll be using her story to re-frame how I’ve been feeling in mine. Meta…I know.
Jane needs a job, which leads her to message Chavez asking for an introduction to a professor who is currently hiring. Rightfully so, she feels tentative about reigniting things, re-writing her email to him over and over to ensure she’s portraying the right message of easy, breezy, and unbothered by the shitty end to
Cut-to: Me trying to compose work emails to Mr. Man that are friendly without being flirty, polite yet professional, but not like I’m trying to intentionally be so. Our ending may have been a little different from Jane’s (she cried before a hook up, while we just stopped talking) but nonetheless, the same awkward, unresolved tones hang in the air in both cases. Honestly, I’m sure that I’ve written university papers that are less edited than some of my responses to Mr. Man.
Jane manages to overcome her email communication hurdles and reconnects with Chavez, just in time to learn that he’s seeing another student. She stalks him a bit online only to see that this pattern has happened not once, twice, but at least four other times…ouch.
Cut-to: Me finding out from a friend at work (Margaret) that Mr. Man has a rather widespread reputation for hitting up young girls in the office. Nice huh? This new-found information made the whole situation seem incredibly icky and I couldn’t help but feel like it was a reflection of my own optimistic naivety, where I somehow thought that I was *shudders* something special. Maggie & I agree that it’s possible that I was to some degree based on what he’s shared with me, but it doesn’t matter either way. Finding out about this pattern basically invalidated all of my feelings and made me realize that at best I am just a rainbow chip in a larger chocolate chip cookie…damn, now I’m depressed and hungry.
Jane explains the situation to Raf in the quintessential intersection of her storyline and mine, sharing how she (and I) felt in two succinct sentences:
Jane: “I didn’t feel like he took advantage of me, at the time. I had a huge crush on him and I went after him. But knowing that he slept with all these other grad students, it just reframes everything.”
Raf: ”You should report him.”
Jane: “For what? He’s not Marissa’s advisor. I checked. And there’s no clear university policy.”
Raf: “Well there should be, those are some intense power dynamics.”
Swap out Jane for me and Raf for Maggie and I SWEAR I’ve had almost this exact conversation. While I don’t think that Mr. Man has ever ventured as far as Chavez, the parallels are still apparent. I didn’t feel like anything was wrong with his attention because I was really into it, I let him know I was open to something and was not innocent prey by any means. But knowing that he may have tried to pull the same thing with others is so disheartening, as is the realization that what I deemed to be ok behaviour really wasn’t, it just seemed that way because I was drunk on hormones.
So, should I report him? I’ve thought about it…but what would I report? Clearly he’s well-practiced in tip-toeing the line, making sure to push his bounds while never doing anything I could overtly point to at the end of the day. Thiss tactical approach only shows me how well-versed he truly is at this game, definitely upping the ick factor.
I feel as if the notion of power dynamics is one that becomes even more exaggerated in a business context. This is because in a literal sense some positions are just more powerful than others, a notion that isn’t groundbreaking by any means. However, on a more nuanced level, men in powerful positions also seem to have an inflated sense of self-importance, as if their role somehow points to having a higher status level overall. I can’t definitively claim that Mr. Man’s role at work made him feel as if he could treat me like a play thing with no feelings. But as the ‘feelingless play thing’ in this particular circumstance, it sure as hell seems that way.
So shout out to Raf for saying it best…those really were some intense power dynamics. Really what else was I to do in that situation…Be rude? I had no reason to think that he was being anything but genuine and only looking back does the game become more clear. From the moment he bought me a drink at the bar I was indebted to him to some degree. He always got our bills, made me feel special (*shudders* there it is again) and even recommended me for another job, making me feel like I should be grateful for his attention and cleverly masquerading whether or not I was being manipulated. He’s mindfucked me to the point that even now I feel absurd writing this blog post when “nothing” has really happened…but “nothing”doesn’t bother you for months after, so it’s time to put to rest the notion that this fabrication was created all on my own.
The last thing I will say is that I am so grateful that Jane the Virgin, which sounds like campy show about sex, tackled an issue as difficult as the power imbalances between men and women. While I never thought I was the only person to experience something like this, it was comforting seeing my own experiences articulated so clearly, and helped me re-frame those 6 months for what they really were: an inflated fantasy of an office romance constructed by trashy rom-coms, my own optimism and most of all, by Mr. Man.
Carrie – The curse of having a great memory is having to disassociate every moment you’ve ever shared with him.
The latest memory that sent me into tears was mini donuts. Yes my friends mentioned mini donuts, a great joy in people’s lives and diets, but a bitter sweet reminder of our first date when we lined up in front of the “hot and fresh” carnival donut stand.
The saddest part of having a formal relationship is knowing that the transition never really involves after-the-fact friendship. Maybe ex-sex or the occasional run-in. But rare to have true friendship if you didn’t start off with it.Continue reading “Mr. Heartbreak Breakup”→
Carrie – On the advice of my friends Pam and Sam, I’ve started to watch Jane the Virgin. 15 episodes in one day later (I’ve had a very relaxing holiday season, okay?), young Jane asks her mom “what does love feel like?”
Jane’s question inspired me to try to encapsulate my answers in a blog post. So also on strongly-worded suggestions from Pam and Sam, I’ve decided to finally write this blog that I’ve been putting off: the “I’m finally in a relationship again and I’m not sure if I’m in love” post.
There are definitely benefits to being in a serious relationship again and more importantly, committing to someone you really care about. I’ve got a cute, beardy, genuinely nice guy from small-town Manitoba (SO not 6ix) who not only texts me back but calls me first; someone who has got his shit together; moreso than me, with a job, car, and no insane amounts of debt (thanks #lawschool). Bonus: he’s got two eyebrows! (see Mr. Unibrow). He is quick-witted; he remembers minute details like when I randomly told him I hated the taste of Dasani water and weeks later, he grabbed me an Aquafina bottle at the gas station; and my brain’s dopamine levels probably go off the charts when I see him calling my phone. It’s for sure the most mature relationship I’ve been in, with someone who is willing to talk about our issues, own up, and apologize (cause he’s the one who’s always wrong).
But sometimes I have nagging single-girl tendencies that come creeping up from the depths of my subconscious.
For example, gone are the days of the stints of dry spells; I have a consistent sex-source. (But also my only sex source.)
No longer do I have to worry about finding someone who’s down to Netflix with me on a Friday night in the -30 weather when I don’t feel like going out, I’ve got a go-to cuddle buddy. (But sometimes I miss regaling my girlfriends with stories of the latest fuckbois over brunch.)
I’m not sure what I was waiting for. I mean that in two ways. Firstly, I don’t know why I made such a big deal of holding out for my tenth kill. In fact, it was putting myself out there back on the Tinder grind full-throttle led me to Mr. LY/LYN. And now, with the thought of being tied down again, I wonder if I did myself a disservice to not have “lived” a little more while I’m still in my prime (I am convinced I peaked in fourth year).
But secondly, and maybe more curiously, I mean holding off this blog post. Is it my need to have the holistic picture after the end of relationships to be able to write about it? Is it my fear of publicizing my rejection online if/when things inevitably come to an end? Is it my perpetual mode to be cynical?
So here is my attempt to Be Brave and write about the thing that scares me the most: have I fallen in love again?
“What does love feel like? How do you know for sure you’re in love?”
While Jane’s mother responds, “it sort of feels like your heart is glowing,” I find this very unhelpful in terms of practical assessment. If I were writing on the show, I would say there should be:
Samantha – Just this past week a new year has sprung, and as such I’m thinking of the men who have hung
Around for the past 300-odd days, there are some to forget and some worthy of praise.
So to keep this “year-end-review” both creative and fun, I’m attempting to rhyme about the conquests I’ve won.
This poem may seem lame and a little bit crass, but it’s just a joke so don’t take it that seriously you ass!
Ok, enough of this intro, let’s get to the deets. Recounting my love life in rhyme is truly a feat.
The year started out with a dry spell in fact, I’d insulted Boston Babe and he wasn’t coming back.
As well I was caught up in dramatic affairs, my best friend confessed he loved me but I couldn’t have cared.
That’s not true, I’ll admit, I cared a whole lot, but not in the way that he wanted I’m afraid not.
So he “dumped me” for a while as a friend and anything more, I was hurt, I was sad and a little unsure
How I could’ve been dumped from something I wasn’t in, a trend I now recognize with a little chagrin…
At the Superbowl I left during the halftime show, for a one night stand that cemented my spot as a ho
In the hookup hall of fame as I returned to my friend after finishing my tryst to watch the game’s end.
My next interaction came as quite a shock, I met a girl that I vibed with and our hookup? It was hot.
She wanted to see me again to my surprise but I had to cut that off because I really just like guys.
Fast forward a few months to my trip to San Fran, I left for the weekend with a friend and a plan
To have new experiences both wild and fun, little did I know that I’d be the wildest one.
UK Bae had a hold over me that I can’t quite describe, I swear when he looked at me I felt my insides
Flip over like gymnasts who would certainly win gold, with a hookup to match I was basically sold.
This guy was amazing! I thought with glee, but that wasn’t entirely the full story you see,
Fore he had a girlfriend who wouldn’t be impressed, with my lust for her boyfriend, not my best move I will stress.
But I couldn’t ignore our connection which felt so strong, and we kept talking for months, both knowing it was wrong.
A couple months later our affair came to an end, the sexting was LIT but we didn’t see each other again.
Lucky for me I had many distractions, the night after UK Bae, Senor San Fran sprung into action.
Also a hookup that was top notch, this Mexican hottie lit a fire in my…..heart 😉
We also kept talking, even skyped once or twice, I was attracted to him and he was very nice,
But I didn’t want to keep up our constant communication and stopped answering his messages, except on occasion.
Oddly this sweet guy never did quit, and at the end of this month he’s coming to visit.
In August I went with Pam to Bolivia and Peru, we met 4 cute Irish boys, quite more than a few.
As usual, romance abroad is rather fortuitous, and I met a cute Brit who came over to dance with us.
We had a little fun in my hostel bed, then I left at 6 am not catching feelings, but a flight instead.
I’ll note a couple of others who had little effect, who came in and out of my life as you’d expect:
One man from the bar who was on too much blow, another whose moves were just quite so-so.
A friend on Halloween became a little more, oh shit this poem is making me sound like a whore.
For those of you who are paying attention, at the beginning of this poem I happened to mention
That I’d break up with guys who I hadn’t been dating, a recurring issue equally as odd as it is grating.
One time in particular I went with a friend to watch a rugby game but then at the end
He referred to me as “his girl” not once and not twice, but often to strangers which I didn’t think was nice.
The next time we met for bacon and eggs, I broke up with him before our coffees reached the dregs.
He was totally aghast, shocked and offended, handed back my waterbottle and said “Our relationship has ended”.
I tried to keep a straight face and act all serious, but couldn’t believe he’d been so delirious.
He’s got a girlfriend now so maybe I’m Good Luck Chuck, But that doesn’t seem possible because we didn’t even fuuuuuuuu…
Through all of these stories, the good and the bad, I’m glad to report none have made me upset or mad,
Except for one dude who I didn’t even bang! Who is he? Yup, you guessed it, it’s Mr. Man.
Long story short the flirtation has lasted far beyond being fun and I wish I was past it!
Every time I feel over him he crops up once again, keeping me on the hook but insisting we’re friends
You’d think a man of his age would be fully grown, but 6 months later and I feel totally thrown
So I’m starting 2018 fresh and anew, with a resolution to stop wasting time where it’s undue.
And thus we end off the story of my year, I think that at this point it’s pretty clear
that I wasn’t on the lookout for one true love, but kept my mind open, indicative of
a year that turned out nothing short of amazing, no heartbreak, disrespect or men needing tazing.
While my flings came and went, as they so often do, I still think that I learned a grand thing or two:
Follow your heart but think with your head, and always feel empowered to kick that fuckboi out of bed.
I cannot wait to see what 2018 will bring, as long as it’s not Mr. Man drama, well then that’s a good thing!
This is a post about nothing. Well, not nothing per say, but it’s pretty much a nothing that I hope turns into a something.
Let’s flash back about a month or so. It’s the end of July, the dog days of summer are upon us and Samantha is feeling randy and restless. Having been occupied text-ually (sexual/texting hybrid, copyright ME) by UK Bae and Senor San Fran for the majority of June, I hadn’t been on the hunt for a summer fling like I normally would be. But by July I’d shed myself of the international baggage and was open to something new and a little more local.
Cue Mr. Man, as he can only be described, because that is exactly what he is…a man. In particular, a 6″4, good looking, snappy dressing, EXECUTIVE IN MY OFFICE, 41 year old man…I’m in trouble.
It all started at an office karaoke night when I walked up to Mr. Man standing with my friend Adam and he offered to buy me a drink. Adam thought he was hitting on me and quickly made himself scarce. Truthfully, the drinks were $3 and I think he was just being friendly, but we chatted briefly until the convo lost steam and then parted ways. Innocuous enough.
The next night I attended another work friend’s 40th birthday party, because I’m seeeewww matoor with my many older friends. I show up and see a couple familiar faces, including Mr. Man’s. I didn’t think anything of the night prior but then he came up to chat to me, then again and then a third time…until all of a sudden he was ready to leave. In classic Samantha style I had just taken a huge bite of a caprese salad (which was really just cheese and basil on top of a tomato) and as I bit into it the tomato juice ran all down my hand. It was at this very moment that Mr. Man came over to say goodbye. Before I could do anything he had clasped my hands between his and I could FEEL the wet, tomato-ey slime smooshed between us as he looked into my eyes and told me that he’d see me soon. Romance amirite? There’s NO WAY he didn’t feel it and I can only imagine that my face resembled the colour of the fruit that was responsible for my shame.
The following Monday I shared the details of the tomato story with Adam, who validated that yes, I am a total embarrassment. When he asked if there was a vibe between us I said that I had totally felt a spark, but how often do karaoke work nights and friends’ 40th bdays coincide? Thinking this was likely a one off I didn’t give it much thought.
That Thursday I had organized after work drinks with some friends and ran into Mr. Man on our way out the door. He joined us for the drinks and this is where things (thankfully) progressed past tomato fingers. We talked alllllll night long and as the number of people at drinks dwindled we showed no sign of stopping. Soon enough only the two of us were left chatting comfortably at the bar. Eventually he asked “So what do you want to do?” To which I responded “Well I guess we should head home”. He replied “I meant with your life, but ya sure”. He paid our bill and we headed out, walking home in the same direction. 5 minutes down the road we passed another bar and he asked if I wanted to go in. Hell yes I did. I was squealing (internally) at the ridiculousness of the situation, feeling like the star of some over the top, cheesy romcom that ends with a steamy affair in a fancy boardroom – well, that was my hope for our ending anyway.
We spent the next two hours at the new bar enjoying ourselves and discussing everything under the sun. Honestly, if it had been a legitimate date it would’ve been one of the best I’d been on in a friggen long time. At one point he even said “I’ve asked you all my first date questions” as we’d veered FAR from work-related topics. Not once did it feel weird that there is a significant age gap between us or did he act like a condescending executive. In fact, we had a chemistry and banter that I know from going on my fair share of dates is not something you can force, it’s either there or it’s not…and boy was it was there. To me, the air felt electric and it was a very unusual and exciting feeling.
The night ended with a short lived visit to his apartment…it’s a gorgeous place with an incredible view of the city and I couldn’t believe the situation I had found myself in. As I stood nervously on his balcony looking anywhere but his eyes he asked if I wanted anything, and OMG did I ever…I couldn’t very well ask for what I actually wanted so instead I told him that I had an important meeting the following day (which I did) and as it was already past midnight we hugged goodbye and that was that. TRAGIC.
Since that night I have developed a crush in every sense of the word. We spend a ton of time together during work, sometimes playing hooky for hours at a time to “discuss my resume” (with 5 minutes dedicated to productivity and the rest reserved for shooting the shit). I even went on an almost 3 week trip to South America (see Unluck of the Irish and Mr. Laid in the Loo) but the day I got back we spent all afternoon chatting about dating and relationships. We click soooo well it’s insane and I am ridiculously attracted to him. As someone who is usually quick to jump the gun and get a guy in bed the tension is legit killing me and makes me want him 1000x more. I’ve even tried to distract myself by going out with other men but have only reaffirmed that my spark with Mr. Man feels more like lightening compared to first date static electricity.
All this being said I have a sneaking suspicion that this “thing” is going nowhere. It seems completely evident to me (and to Adam, who knows every detail of this little affair) that there is some sort of attraction here but maybe my crush is clouding my judgment. After all, I am a normal woman with a very active set of hormones, so whenever we speak rationality flies out the window and all my thoughts are replaced with “TAKE ME NOW”. Perhaps we actually have a 90% professional relationship and the cheesy romcom I referred to earlier is no more than a fictitious daydream perpetuated by workplace boredom and fifty shades fantasies…I mean, I definitely toe the line between what is appropriate and what is very much not but I doubt he’s going to cross it. Maybe it’s that I’m fifteen years younger, maybe it’s that he’s an exec and I’m far from it or maybe it’s something else entirely…whatever the reason I can’t see a scenario in which this ends with a bang instead of a bust.
End of the day I have no complaints. Despite the fact that I will probably come out of this looking like a silly little girl crushing on the handsome older man, it’s kinda fun being all consumed in this way and I haven’t actually had interest in someone for a long time. I have no idea how things will end up but the one thing I can guarantee is that I’ll be here to document it all, the good, the bad and the downright embarrasing.
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):
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!