Internal Affairs: Mr. Man

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.
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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.

You know you love me, xoxo…Samantha Jones.

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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 😉

The Click

101009784Everyone has had a similar experience, whether with a friend or a romantic partner, you’ve met someone and instantly “clicked”. From the moment you two saw each other there was some sort of a metaphysical connection that drew you to one another.

It’s something more than mere attraction, it is as if something in the universe says you two need to connect. There’s no fighting it, like two magnets pulled together, your attraction is guaranteed.

I met K last summer while staying at a hostel. A friend of mine had a little too much to drink so I ended up dragging her butt back from the bar and taking care of her for a solid portion of the night. While sitting on the floor holding a garbage can to her face and trying to force feed her bread this insanely handsome guy came down the stairs and took a seat on the steps right in front of us. He kept me company while I consoled her and stayed to keep chatting after I finally managed to put her to bed.

We only spoke for a few hours that night because he had to catch a flight home in the morning. With no kiss or steamy one-night stand, we added each other on facebook and parted ways.

I’ve never had such an immediate connection to another human being. In those few hours I felt as though I wanted to tell him everything. It was an indescribably feeling, as if we were meant to play some sort of role in the others life.

After our wonderful chat I came to terms that I would never see K again but just a few days later he contacted me. We ended up speaking almost every day for a year. He became one of my closest friend. On the rare occasion, when we would video chat rather than message, we would talk for hours about everything you could image … our friends, travels, politics, aspirations and most importantly, one day, seeing each other again.

A year later I get to finally see my newly found best friend in the flesh. Against all odds our connection has maintained it’s strength and will soon be bringing us back together.

I have no idea if this person is meant to play a larger role in my life or not. Perhaps as a friend, companion, lover, or maybe our journey is intended to end upon our reunion. I can’t anticipate what will happen, but I’m excited to find out.

Monsieur Formidable

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Samantha – After months of hibernation I have finally returned!! As explained in previous rants (see “I’m in a fk funk” for reference) I had totally dismissed the dating game that I was so heavily invested in just a couple months ago. I was exhausted of the game and putting in the effort, evidenced by the fact that I have had MINIMAL male interaction since I ran out on Mr. Views. Even when I did hook up I was totally unenthused, bored and not wanting to write another mundane blog post about it…yea not a great sign. However, I am happy to report that the funk has officially been broken and I have something worth sharing.

I went to Banff for a 5-day vacation over the May long weekend. I had planned this trip back in January when I was still living at home and badly needing an escape. I felt so claustrophobic in my parents’ house so I spontaneously booked a solo trip, which most of my friends found pretty odd. As a textbook extrovert and over-thinker, it seemed likely that I’d lose my damn mind if the only person I had to talk to was myself. Honestly, at the time I was feeling so stuck and frustrated in my parents’ house that the idea of doing something completely independent and outside my comfort zone seemed crucial to maintaining my sanity. Fast forward 4 months and I’ve since moved out, turned 23 and am much happier. I began to wonder: What would my trip be like? Would I meet cool people? Have some life-changing spiritual journey? Get mauled by a bear hiking alone in the woods? Nervous and excited, I hopped on a plane not knowing I was headed on an adventure that would greatly surpass my expectations.

I arrived in Banff Thursday afternoon filled with energy. It was too late in the day for a hike so I wandered around town taking in the sights and planning the next few days. I had come to Banff with a mission to get laid and was looking for an opportunity to increase my odds…so I decided to re-download tinder.

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Turns out there are TONS of hot and horny guys in Banff and I quickly started chatting up a few. Monsieur Formidable (Mr. Wonderful) ended up asking me out first and I said yes. He’s 26, from Quebec, working in Banff and has a rockin bod…All qualities of the perfect vacation companion.  We grabbed a couple beers at a bar and began chatting about who we were, where we worked and what drugs we’d done in the past – you know, normal first date stuff. We discovered we both like shrooms and decided to do some that night because WHY NOT?

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We did them outside my hostel and spent most of the night having life chats. I was just thinking “Dayum this guy is great!” when he laid some really weird news on me: he’s an alchemist.  I’m still not sure WTF that means but all I know is it’s a religion that focuses on getting to new levels, out of body experiences and attaining dream states…My poor, high brain could not take this seriously and I had to literally cover my face to keep from laughing. Anyway, I didn’t see him as anything more than a way to have some fun over the next few days, so I moved past it and we ended the night with a really hot hookup in the shower closet (yes, the shower in the hostel was literally a closet).

The next day he insisted on coming hiking with me, which was SO refreshing as guys from Toronto generally show affection by acting totally disinterested in the girl they’re seeing. We went on a long hike, took some cute pics by a waterfall (are we dating? Let me know), and really got to know each other. No religion stuff came up and I found myself thanking the Tinder Gods for providing me with someone nice, fun and pretty damn cute. After the hike we went to these hot springs where things literally heated up. Amongst all the other couples it felt like a pretty romantic setting for two people who’d just met, but I actually liked it. Usually that kind of stuff makes me feel cheesy and weird but the whole thing was really comfortable so I continued to go with the flow.

I’d anticipated going home after but Monsieur Formidable invited me over for some food instead . We stopped by a grocery store and got everything needed to make homemade burgers, salad and dessert. I mean, COME ON, was this guy for real? It was so cute and felt like something out of the kind of romance movies I usually make fun of. We spent most of that night in his bedroom and let me tell you this guy is without a doubt the best I’ve ever had. Like no contest. Anyway, I found out the next morning that he has to sign in his guests (he stays in some sort of staff accommodation) and had signed me in for the 3 nights I had left in Banff after our first night together. See what I mean about not being afraid to show interest?

The next day was pretty phenomenal. He had to work so I went on a solo expedition up Tunnel Mountain and even made it to Lake Louise. I got SO lucky with the weather while I was away, the forecast had called for rain the entire time but so far all I’d had was sun and clear skies. Heck, I even got a bit burnt on top of Tunnel Mountain. That night I went down to our hostel bar for some drinks. The bar was actually wrapping up around the same time Monsieur Formidable got off work so I headed over there for the night. We had an amazing night together, details can be assumed, and lazed around the next morning cuddling and chatting. ME. CUDDLING. I don’t think you realize the gravitas of this kind of situation. I don’t cuddle….usually. Oh dear, you can probably see where this is going can’t you?

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He had work again the next day so I drove out to Marble Canyon in B.C. with this guy from my hostel. The canyon was absolutely breathtaking and I am still in awe just thinking about the view. After this I stopped by Canmore to visit a friend for dinner. By the time I got back to Banff that night I was exhausted and crashed for a couple hours knowing that I wouldn’t be getting much sleep staying over at Monsieur Formidable. At this point I had slept in my hostel only once and was regretting paying for all 4 nights up front…Later that night I went out with 2 Swedish girls from my hostel to this bar FILLED with Australians and other international travellers. It was a weird experience being one of the only Canadians in my own country but I was having an amazing time.

So how did this love affair end you might ask? Well, I’m a firm believer that things don’t truly end unless they end badly, so it makes sense that I’d find some way to screw up an almost perfect 5-day stretch. I can pinpoint the exact moment when things started to change for me. We’re lying in bed on the 4th morning, talking about our exes and he tells me that his relationships usually last up to two weeks before he gets annoyed or bored…he then proceeds to tell me that it would take a lot longer than that for me to annoy him if I was staying in Banff. Seems like a sweet but innocuous comment right? Well, maybe for a  normal person. But for me, someone who RARELY gets emotionally invested it tugged at my heart a little. Here is someone that I have grown rather fond of and everything seemed simple until it was ending and I actually liked him! At the time I hadn’t realized this but that night, when I went out with Swedish girls, I ended up leaving the bar because he couldn’t get in. Uh oh, this wasn’t what my trip was supposed to be…Here I am having an amazing time on my last night in Banff and I leave to go hang out with a guy I barely know. This was probably a sign that I should probably check myself before I wreck myself but I didn’t see it.

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We went back to his place, totally normal…except that it wasn’t. Now, as neither of us is a relationship person I can surmise that he might react similarly to me, but in reality this next part is an assumption of his behaviour based on how I explain my own. Generally when I am feeling vulnerable I have the tendency to push people away. You know, like push someone away, if they leave you were right all along but if they come back it means alot. It’s a pathetic defense mechanism, I know, and one that I’ve employed too many times. Well, while at his place some random guy messaged me on tinder and I checked it as a joke. Yea I know, dick move on my part. He immediately got weird and told me to talk to the random if I’d wanted even though I clearly did not. Then, while telling him about my night out with the girls, he made a comment about not being able to hook up with them because of me. I said “Why not? I’m leaving tomorrow, I don’t care” and he said something about how I wouldn’t be allowed to care either way. The point is, it seemed like we were both suddenly acting like we didn’t give a shit, and I doubt he would change from being an incredibly sweet, considerate person for 4 days into a fuckboi overnight. Maybe I’m naïve but I just don’t see it. Especially when I know that I was being bitchy in an arcane attempt to protect myself from getting hurt.

The rest of the night was filled with similar weirdness. We hooked up as per the usual but for the first time it wasn’t AMAZING. In fact, it was the first time I didn’t finish at all, let alone multiple times. I guess it really had gotten emotional for me. I felt pretty much responsible for the weirdness but couldn’t seem to stop from acting that way despite being painfully self-aware about it. I lay awake most of the night thinking about it how I messed up the ending of an almost a perfect week and being pissed off that I couldn’t have had a more mature emotional response. I continued to get increasingly upset until I decided “fuck it, I’m leaving”. I got up and dressed, and without much protest from him it became pretty clear he probably wanted me to leave as well. With a kiss goodbye I headed for the door, laughing when he called out “nice to meet you” from his bed. In that moment I realized how stupid I was for getting invested despite my best intentions. This guy was still pretty much a total stranger and I was friggen embarrassed.

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I headed to the nearby Bow Falls as it was the one sight I had yet to visit and really needed to clear my head. After walking around for about 40 minutes I realized I FORGOT MY FUCKING WATCH. Oh God, now I had to go back and have another awkward goodbye. He met me at the front door with the watch and after a weird kiss on my neck and a quick hug, we bid adieu, this time for real. How badly I wish we could’ve ended more positively but such is life. I honestly think that I have such a hard time dealing with emotions because I don’t let myself experience them often enough. When I do it hits me like a ton of bricks and makes me act like a psycho.

All in all I am really thankful for the experience no  matter the outcome. It was really nice having someone to be with, talk to and straight up, he was phenomenal in bed. Maybe I was dicknotized and drunk with hormones, but the whole thing showed me that I’m clearly interested in a relationship and should just hold out for something better than what I’ve settled for in the past. At the end of the day we never would’ve have worked out  – the alchemy thing alone is enough to send me running – but for the 5 days I was there he was a wonderful host and perfect gentleman. My only hope is he looks back at our short whatever it was fondly instead of being clouded by the weirdness that hung over the ending.

Banff totally captured my heart in every way. I fell in love with the mountains, fell in lust with a French guy and would happily return if the opportunity arose once again. This trip was everything I needed and more, and truly proved that the West coast is the best coast!

Till next time, S ❤

 

 

 

Mr. Lucky Charms

You know when you’re in a situation and there’s no possibility of any hookup happening? Like when you’re vacationing at a cabin in the middle of buttfuck-nowhere-Quebec with your family. Ya, that was me over new years. I left two days after Mr. Lawyer happened and had already mentally prepped myself for a good week of family bonding and copious amounts of food, with no boys to distract me or qualm my ever rising sexual needs. But when does a plan ever work out how you imagined?

Turns out, one of my sisters invited her best friend, who then invited her boyfriend, who then invited his nephew. So, yes, there was a young Irish man that was unrelated to me (hence Mr. Lucky Charms) staying in the cabin. All of a sudden my new year’s resolution plans of being a good girl were squandered.

Mr. Lucky Charms was cute and dorky, glasses and all, and a charming Irish accent with which I only understood about 60% of his words. He was tall and had a lean build, but I was surprised to find out that he was pretty fit (more like discovered while we were in the hot tub).  Even though he was on my radar, I never truly intended for anything to happen. I was surrounded by family after all and in a way, he’s a family friend. It was fun just thinking about hooking up with said foreign man while on vacation. The notion of it was exciting and risqué.

It wasn’t until the second half of the vacation, when I was given the task of giving every single family member one of my infamous massages that a story worthy of this blog began. Eventually, it was Mr. Lucky Charm’s turn. I lathered his back in a healthy dose of massage oil and dove in. Feeling a bit frisky (maybe from the spiked eggnog), I may have added a little bit extra to his massage experience and I’m pretty sure he got the hint. Later that evening, my family decided to make a small trip to Montreal to explore the city and check out the Christmas markets. On cue, both Mr. Lucky Charms and I both decided to stay in the cabin along with my sister’s boyfriend. I feigned tiredness but mostly I just wanted to see how far I could take it with the Irish guy and see if luck really was on my side.

After everyone had left, Mr. Lucky Charms and I hung out and gravitated to the hot tub where things really started getting hot and steamy. It was the first time I had done anything like that but I gotta say, there is something extremely hot about hooking up while it is -20 degrees Celsius in the middle of a pitch black forest with the stars twinkling above. I guess I can check that off my bucket list now. In fact, it was so cold that my hair had froze into icicles coming out of my head. On top of this, there was the added bonus and adrenaline rush with the risk of getting caught by my sister’s boyfriend who was just chilling a few feet from us inside. At one point we were so close to getting caught but somehow (at least to our knowledge) we managed to survive that. My family returned later that night and although they made some suspicious comments, we held our ground and their questions stopped.

It was a lot of fun and we decided to push our luck and try one more time the last night in the cabin. Unfortunately, the layout of this house was open concept and neither of us had a room to ourselves. At this point the only logical option was to wake up at 3am and hookup in the living room. The risk factor was off the charts as my dad was just sleeping down the hall but we managed to keep quiet and once again Mr. Lucky Charms lived up to his name.

The next day we all hopped into our cars and made the trek back to the 6ix. Mr. Lucky Charms was staying in Toronto for one more night before he flew back to Vancouver where he was working. Interestingly, he asked me to hang out for his last night. I agreed and we ended up having an enjoyable time doing the most stereotypical first date shenanigans you can think of: dinner, movie and playing pool.  We held hands throughout even though we were both well-aware nothing would come out of it. I really do think he is a sweet guy and someone I would be open to dating but alas this will just remain an epic story about some vacation I had one time.

One thing is for sure though. The luck of the Irish is a real thing. I gotta get this shit bottled up.

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 2

Miranda- If you haven’t read Part 1 yet STOP and read it here first.

So, I’m back. I’ve returned to the 6ix from my 4 day weekend of bliss in NYC.

Except it wasn’t bliss. It was more like a 4 day arranged marriage mixed with mild forms of social torture.

Let me just preface this by saying that regardless of how it turned out, I do not regret buying my ticket to visit Mr. New York. If I hadn’t, I would have never known the outcome and that would not be a feeling I could cope with. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve and all that jazz.

Friday evening I arrived at LaGuardia airport only to meet a man that I barely even recognized. Who was he? Could this really be Mr. New York? I would think after talking to the same person constantly for 3 weeks straight, I should have an idea of what he’d be like in person. Nope. Nada. Negative. He was a stranger. Even after a couple minutes meeting him, an uncomfortable feeling started to set in as I realized that I would be spending the next 4 days with this man.

I wasn’t catfished – at least not intentionally. His face and voice were the same, two things I grew to really enjoy. But his mannerisms and physicality was not something I expected. He was truly awkward and dressed as if he were homeless with ill-fitting, holey clothes (not the stylish hipster kind either).

Even though we connected so well through messages, in person, we could not be more different. In retrospect, I realize that I idealized him too much and that even though I received some warning signs about him, I brushed them aside, minimizing the truth in my perception of him. Our ambition, social life, diet, and sense of humour were on opposite spectrums. I say diet like it’s a joke but his was legit insane. Not once during my trip did I see him drink water (you know, like, the liquid of life). Instead, his fluid of choice was APPLE JUICE – gulping straight from the 2L jug. I also don’t think he’d know what to do with a vegetable if you put it in front of him and directed him to a fork. All in all, he was a boy in a man’s body, and viewed life in that self-centric way that most people eventually grow out of.

The strangest thing though, was even though I was slightly heartbroken by the reality that was crashing down on me, I felt myself starting to like the real Mr. New York by the end of my visit. His odd mannerisms and ticks became endearing. I even hooked up with him a few times while together. I don’t know if it was just me forcing myself to make the best of the situation or if given enough time, I could truly be attracted to him. Either way, it was an insane rollercoaster of emotions.

So, how do I feel now knowing what I know? Sad and disappointed. I am still in complete shock how wrong I could have been about a person. I miss my idealized image of Mr. New York; the fantastical person I created in my head. But, that’s not a realistic or healthy way to think. This was an experience, and one definitely for the books (or the blog), and even though Mr. New York was far from my Mr. Perfect, I’m still glad it happened.

#noragrets

Mr. Ego Boost

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Samantha – This post is going to make me look like an asshole. I know it, I accept it, and am just going to own it because I promised myself to be honest on this blog. Ok, disclaimer over. Here is my date with Mr. Ego Boost.

It started on J-Swipe – because which of my stories don’t begin on a dating app these days – when I came across this guy that had gone to my elementary school. I know I know, why do I keep revisiting guys from my childhood? Not really sure, but it’s a good convo starter and he remembered me too, so we set up a time to meet for drinks after work.

On paper, we had the makings of a great date. Grabbed a beer, went on a walk and had sushi for dinner. He was very sweet and said all the right things, including claiming to be an incredibly honest guy. This turned out to be true almost to a fault, where he may have disclosed more to me than he probably should have.

For starters, I have never seen anyone so nervous for a first date. From the beginning of the night I knew I wouldn’t have to maneuver the awkward end-of-night kiss as it was clear from all the face-rubbing, lack of eye contact and visible forehead sweat that he wouldn’t be making the move.

Surprisingly no, this is not why I said this post would make me come off as an asshole.

Further, as a dating blogger and self-appointed subject matter expert, I have read quite a bit of literature pertaining to the world of online dating. One of the things included in almost every “How-to” post about first dates is to not talk about previous people you’ve dated. Though never having done this myself, I didn’t really understand why it was such a faux pas…I mean, what’s so bad about connecting over some of the undoubtedly horrible dates we’ve all had whilst navigating the modern dating pool? Well, let me share something the dating sites never properly articulated but are certainly right about:

You should NEVER talk about your past on a first date, because when you spend so much time talking about what you guys used to do and how badly your ex effed you up, it shows that you are probably not entirely over it.

Around this point was when we left datesville and Samantha the therapist stepped in. He kept harping on how ‘together’ I was in comparison to him, to the point where I felt obliged to stroke his ego and talk him up…to HIMSELF. This is not the best first date move either, because while I am by no means suggesting acting like someone you’re not, a little confidence is sexy! And telling your date that they can do better than you is probably putting the wrong idea in their head. Personally, I’m not looking to start off a relationship with someone who needs me to constantly validate their self-esteem and be reassured as to why I am with them. I have been down that road and found that you have to be happy with yourself before you can be happy with someone else.

See? Told you I’d sound like a jerk.

Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.  I had a pretty good time hanging out with this guy that I had not seen for almost 15 years. When we got onto a topic he felt comfortable about, eye contact was made and we could actually joke around, making me wonder if I should go on a second date knowing it wouldn’t go further than that. At the same time, is it really fair of me to go out with someone again because I like hearing how awesome I am for two straight hours?

This is another indicator that I am a total asshole.

In a weird turn of events, his badly needed ego boost turned out to be a huge boost to mine. It was really nice spending time with someone so genuine and I would have loved for this one to have worked out. It’s really a shame that all the sweet things he did do, like giving our leftovers to a homeless guy and making me feel pretty damn special, were overshadowed by crippling self-doubt that turned me into his shrink instead of his date. I mean, he did pay for dinner and I did provide some solid advice, so maybe I should be looking into a career change…

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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