Mr. Special Ops

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

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

i-can-be-your-hero-baby-thumb

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

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Boston Babe’s Back!

FFS this post is delayed. Though unintended I have taken 2.5 months to get this sucker out…As such, here’s a little #TBT for your Thursday afternoon….

It was an ordinary November afternoon when I received a Snapchat message from good ole’ Boston Boy (upgraded to Boston Babe), my super sweet fling from the summer who took me to baseball games and held my hand at the dinner table. It said: “Hey, do you know any good places to eat in downtown Toronto?” I laughed to myself, realizing that this was exactly how he’d started our very first tinder convo (yes, I have that good a memory). I was in the middle of a drrrry spell…one that actually started when B-Boy left Toronto back in August. Work was out of control busy, I was studying for a grad school entrance exam, and had a general apathy toward dating of any kind, so ya, I didn’t hesitate setting up our date.

We agreed to meet at his hotel and I showed up nervous and excited. After all, I hadn’t seen the guy in almost 3 months and couldn’t even remember if I thought he was cute. He ended up getting stuck at work so I decided to make the best of the situation and grabbed a glass of wine and a seat at the bar. I ended up chatting to the guy at the stool next to me (don’t get the wrong idea, he was well over 50) and had a pretty hilarious time. I felt a little like the star of my own version of “Pretty Woman”, trying to set up a client while waiting for another to arrive. The gentleman asked if I was staying in the hotel, to which I replied: “Nope just visiting a friend” just as Boston Babe showed up, looking way cuter than I remembered I may add. I struggled to find my credit card and pay for the drink only looking up when the bartender yelled “THAT WAS THE SMOOTHEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN”. Always considerate, my Boston Babe had subtly paid the tab and grabbed my stuff. All I could do was muster a quiet “thank you” and grab his hand before heading straight for the elevators.

The rest of the night was honestly amazing. We hooked up, ate pizza in bed, hot-tubbed, hooked up, watched a movie, slept, and again hooked up. It was as if we picked up right where we let off and quickly transitioned from ‘what’ve you been up to’ pleasantries to meaningful conversation. I left the next morning, after enjoying a complimentary hotel breakfast, feeling elated and excited to see him again. Oh! and I mustn’t forget that the gentleman from the bar the night before turned up again, this time sitting across from me as I ate toast and scrambled eggs, while I kept my blushing cheeks pointed to my plate.

Fast forward a few weeks and I am in a full-on ‘fling-lationship’. I dub this term to explain the otherwise uncategorically expressed phenomenon: I was 100% in a relationship for a very defined period of time. We texted, ate meals together, talked about our days, and spent a lot of time together. By the last week of his trip I had definitely grown attached, more than to just having someone in my life but to him as well. We went skating one night and as he held my hands and skated backwards, guiding us around the rink I couldn’t help but think: “Why does he have to leeeeaaaveeee”. I was so happy to continue doing what we were doing that I couldn’t help but feel slighted to have found someone I get along with so well when he happens to live in another country. A country with a president like Trump no less.

We had some very deep life chats over the course of a couple weeks, even getting into our pasts and relationship deal breakers which is something I rarely share with my male companions. I admitted mine is overemotional guys…ya, I’m pretty callous…hence my hesitance to share. It turned out I needn’t worry, as his exes always complained that he didn’t open up and was too emotionally reserved…Well no wonder we friggen got along so well! I don’t like to talk about feelings with the guy I’m dating and he doesn’t like to talk about feelings. period.

Well, while our mutual fear of intimacy made for a perfect fling, it also made it kind of hard to understand if the feelings I was developing were real. By the end of his trip my mind had turned into a broken record  “Should I say how I feel? Could he feel the same way? Am I asking to be rejected by a guy who admittedly doesn’t open up??” I continued this one-woman game of ‘relationship chicken’, torn between taking a risk or letting this great guy just pass me by until it was suddenly our last night together and I still hadn’t said anything. You’d think I’d be capable of uttering a simple “Hey, I like you and I’d actually give this a shot…what do you think?”, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Despite my overwhelming cowardice we had a great night. Well, no…Let me clarify. I had a perfectly good night but he was clearly VERY off…to this day I don’t know what was wrong but he didn’t enjoy the physical part of our relationship in the same way he had throughout all the time we’d spent together prior. Maybe he was also playing relationship chicken and was more wrapped up in his thoughts than in my embrace? Maybe he had a rough day at work? Who knows. I

left the next morning knowing that it’d be the last time I saw him.  Whether or not he felt the way I did one thing was clear: neither of us had the balls to turn this into anything real and without someone stepping up to the plate we’d go down in history as the greatest potential relationship never to reach the major leagues.

We had a great time together and while losing him stung a bit, I was over it after a couple days and quickly dove back into work, studying and not giving a fuck about dating. I won’t be the type of girl always at someone else’s beck and call, so if he ever came back to T.O., single or not, our fling-lationship would remain safely where it belongs: on my blog.

From the Archives: Mr. Mind-F*ckboy

Carrie – How do I begin to summarize the most complicated and confusing relationship that encompassed eight months of my life? Although it’s been a while since we last talked and nothing in particular brought him up, I still think of him in late hours of insomniac nights.

Let’s go back to January 2015. Mr. Mind-F*ckboy was essentially a one-night stand of a wild weekend gone awry. Newly single Carrie had just had her first overnighter with a stranger who departed with a “thanks but you know I’ll never see you again.” I suppose that’s what I wanted at the time, that’s why I chose this random out-of-town guy who was visiting the first week of my last semester of undergrad.

Flash forward to the next night and I felt a little confused and off-kilter from my first one night stand. My friend, Mr. Stanford Blach in fact, was going out and told me to join so I put on my glasses and granny panties in a preventative form of birth control. We get to the bar and I’m waiting with my friend’s boyfriend from Ottawa who sees his friend from high school. And he was HOT. We get introduced and I’ve never been so attracted to someone (other than Zac Efron) right off the bat. Later, sipping on my G&T, I spot Mr. MFB brooding in the corner as we make eye contact. He starts moving through a crowd in my direction and I frantically chug my drink in preparation. We hit it off with a surprisingly deep conversation that flowed from classic rock to hook up culture to volun-tourism to neoliberalism and I hadn’t felt that strong of a connection with anyone before. He asked to come home with me and I agreed, silently cursing myself for the granny panties.
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Why I gave up dating apps and I’m happier

Carrie – I was watching an episode of Chelsea Handler’s new Netflix Series, Chelsea Does Marriage, where she features testimonials from her friends, family and complete strangers (ie. BDSM threesomes) on marriage, love, and relationships. One of the couples says, “We met online like everyone these days.”

I looked over at my sister, who recently met her boyfriend on Bumble (you’re welcome for forcing you to get it one drunken night). I thought of all the couples getting together and it was one of three things: a) work/school, b) mutual friends, or c) online. When you live in a city as isolating as Toronto can be, dating apps might be your best option.
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