Mr. 10(B) Unibrow

Carrie – Having held my re-born again virginity for nine months in hopes for the elusive 10 to mean something more, I wasn’t going to let some non-consensual quasi-hookup with Mr. High School Musical take that title. After processing what happened (lots of alcohol + Bumble guys = bad choices), I decided to get on the Tinder train in Ottawa.

I was talking to this Naval Architect and he was checking all the boxes. He loved drinking, had a full head of hair, a daily gym goer with a stable job and I was hooked. Plus he had trendy circular-framed sunglasses in his summer pics near the water and I just envisioned us wearing matching pairs as we lounged on the beach. (Yes, you may roll your eyes at me). We had been talking every day for just short of two weeks before he finally asked me out… talk about the slow game. As fate would have it (or his poor planning), he was leaving town to visit the east coast for a week. He told me he’d message me when he got back.

In the interim, I had matched with this other guy. He messaged me a couple of times so when Naval Architect left, I answered him back but he was definitely a back-burner type of guy. An Ottawa-native with a U of T business degree, his responses were nice but boring. After Naval Architect had come back for a few days (which I deduced from frequent stalking of Tinder “km away” LOL) but failed to message me, I sheepishly accepted the date with the other guy.

I end up meeting him for a patio beer and the sunlight hit his slight unibrow and patch of four white-heads near his nose just so. I was repulsed and named him Mr. Unibrow, vowing to write a post for the blog.

accurate

Continue reading “Mr. 10(B) Unibrow”

Advertisements

Why I need to break-up with Tinder

Once single I solemnly swore that there was no way that I would be jumping back on the Tinder bandwagon. For awhile I was doing great, but then fast forward 8 weeks, and 2 sick days later and TADA the app was back. At first it didn’t seem so bad, there were some cute nice guys in my area and I was getting a few matches. Needless to say, this distracted me from my strep throat, my “wtf, why am I suddenly really missing Mr. High School Crush” thoughts (I think it’s because I’m sick – and theory confirmed by Carrie who also expressed missing her ex sporadically as soon as she got sick post break-up), and gave me a break from binge-watching Netflix. It’s fun I thought, there’s no harm in it…tinder-logo

However, one or two (or maybe a couple hundred) swipes later, I found myself annoyed and irritated at the app, but still oddly and weirdly compulsively checking it. Now, as my friends know, I’ve been taking my dating advice from Aziz Ansari through his “Modern Romance” book (shameless promo for the book which is actually really good and surprisingly, seemingly too accurate to my life), and have been using him as my dating guide in a way. Aziz (through his book) empowered (maybe the wrong choice of words, but we’ll roll with it) me to re-download the app. How on earth can a book do this, you might ask, well let me tell you. Basically, as part of the book Aziz lets us know that we live in a strictly technological age (I mean so shit Sherlock), and that our whole life is consumed by technology – so what better way to find someone other than the platform that literally EVERYONE is on?! This technology thing starts getting weird too (ps. Sidestory: A guy in my section decided to ask me out but instead of in person where he sees me basically everyday, he proceeded to do so over instagram direct message – sorry what?) Aziz also makes it clear that now with technology, like everything else, we are so much more connected to so many people. Seems great right? Wrong. Aziz makes it clear that the  amount of options that we have is almost too overwhelming that it makes it so easy to say “next” to someone and not even bother to get to know them.

When I was swiping away, I thought about this in real time, mostly because I noticed how scarily quickly my fingers were swiping “left, left, left”, and I had barely made time to look at the guys profile. I don’t think that I’m a judgey person (for the most part), but on this app I turned into a complete and total judgey betch. I found myself swiping no for the stupidest reasons, I don’t like his name, his friend is cuter, he took a mirror selfie – and I felt totally validated and okay with doing it. Thinking like Aziz, I totally understood it and it finally clicked: we have so many options that we don’t get to know people because we don’t have to! Seems promising – what a fun time to be dating…(I hope you can pick up on my sarcasm)!

This leads me to my second problem with the app: I actually start feeling bad “ghosting” people, so even though I have zero interest in talking to them, I find myself engaging in so many conversations and giving out my number just because I feel too rude to say no (As the archived posts in this blog show me – ghosting is a new trend that doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere, and I think all the daters can unanimously agree that it sucks). Lucky for me, I have been using my strep throat as an excuse to push away any guys who have cut right to the chase and asked for a date, but it’s also just as annoying to engage in the same “small talk” conversations at least 20 times. It used to be flattering to get the attention of the guys who want to talk to you, but now it just seems redundant and impersonal, and maybe that’s why it’s totally un-engaging.  Kudos to the guys who start with creative lines, and some of them honestly and truly do make me laugh, but there’s only so many generic conversations you can end up in before you do it mindlessly – and that is a clear sign of a connection lost before it even started. Is it possible to find prince charming if you’re bored of him before you even meet?!

The second issue with ghosting is getting ghosted – maybe that’s why I don’t like to do it to other people, is because it’s not fun when it happens to you! For example: I was chatting a cute guy on bumble, had a clever opening line and we exchanged a few messages before HE said that he wanted to hang out. Okay I thought, I’m not bored of him, (that’s a good sign), so I went with it and agreed – and all of a sudden he was gone! So confusing to say the least, but also annoying to get “invested” in someone and them just to disappear!

So I tried as a single girl to jump back on Tinder, (and other dating apps) and as quickly as I got on – I’m jumping right back off (and hiding under a rock). I can almost guarantee that come the next time I’m bored or lonely or find myself randomly missing my ex, I’ll be downloading an app right back thinking maybe this time it will be different. I guess you can say that tinder and I (along with many other people I suspect), are in a love-hate relationship, but I think it might be time for us to break up (and hopefully for good!)

Chronicles of a Toronto F*ckgirl: Part Five – Mr. Blind Spot

Carrie – Have you ever been so bored at work that you get horny? Like an uncomfortable-in-your-ergonomic-desk-chair, drinking-more-water-as-if-that-will-satiate-your-thirst type of horny? Well that’s what I was feeling on this particular Tuesday and when Mr. 3 Chances 2 Many was unavailable, I decided I’d toss Mr. Blind Spot a bone(r).

I invite Mr. Blind Spot to come over to my apartment. I thought his text about “seeing each other a few more times, taking things slow and see where they go” was just a formality, especially since he asked for casual relationship. So he arrives on a rainy evening, we end up making out on my bed and five minutes in, he pulls out a condom. It was a little fast for my taste, in terms of our relationship overall but also in foreplay tbh. However, I did really like him and my animalistic urges took over. I made him promise not to turn into an asshole after sex, he asked for clarification and then agreed, and I let him take control of the situation. As someone with a strong personality, he was one of the first guys I’ve been with that was the more dominant one in bed and I have to say it was a fun time. We went multiple rounds, even when my sister got home. At that point, he asked to do it in my apartment stairwell and I was slightly freaked out by his experience and kinkiness. However, all those worries were quieted when we lying together in my bed and he asked me to “netflix now that we’ve chilled.” I began setting up my laptop for a makeshift TV but he asked to go hang out on my living room couch, which is in a lot of ways the more intimate setting. He met my sister while we cuddled, kissed and joked around quoting Superbad together. He even gave me a foot massage with my fuzzy socks on.

At this point, I was just going to see Mr. 3 Chances because I have a tendency to run when I got scared and I was really into Mr. Blind Spot. So when Mr. Blind Spot texted me on Friday and Mr. 3 Chances was late again that night, I decided to meet up with the guy I actually liked instead. Mr. Blind Spot ended up going to the Maddy when I was near the Drake Hotel at a party, so I gave up on us meeting up and began scarfing down King’s Slice (biggest and great pizza in Toronto). It was around 2:30 a.m. when he started texting me consecutively. I should have listened to How I Met Your Mother when they said “nothing good happens after 2 a.m.” because he invites me over as I’m getting home. I guess my decision to go was partially because I am a human being with sexual needs and because I really liked this guy and wanted to spend more time with him before he left to London for the next couple of days. So yolo.

After a sketchy 4 a.m. uber ride, he walks me in and I get to see his room with nerdy airplane and robot models, a rubix cube with instructions on how to complete it, a huge TV, mismatched birch furniture that looks like it’s from a childhood room and a guitar. We are naked together, cuddling with my head resting on his shoulder when he gives me a forehead kiss. At that point, I’m a goner. The next morning (really only a couple hours later), I wake up with an abundance of energy considering how little sleep we got, and I get to see a boyish messy haired version of this very composed guy. When he wakes up a little more, he plays me a beautiful melody on the guitar with the sun beating down on him, barefoot in jeans, leaning against the wall. I’m resting my head on his duvet enjoying the moment and he sets his guitar down, resting his head across from me so that we’re looking at each other. Sometimes you can feel when you really connect with someone and that was the shifting moment when emotions got involved – a connection between two people outside of all the cellphones and sex and hookup culture that surrounds us these days. Two people staring at one another, eye to eye, not talking but just connecting as humans do. I know it’s dorky to say but it was special.

It was also after this moment that I felt his wall go up. At first, I thought it was because we were heading into public on the subway. He started rambling about his masters’ thesis, something about wing span gradient and range, then I gave him a shy kiss as we parted and he gave me a little salute in response. He texted me after the weekend and we were chatting when midway, he said “he feels weird about all that’s happened last week.” Knowing the end was impending, I asked him if he’d rather stop talking or meet in person. We decide to meet at Queen’s Park Station where we sat at a booth and he proceeds with small talk. I tell him to cut to the chase, why is he feeling “weird” and he tells me a relationship shouldn’t start off with so much sex. I immediately think of this as an insult against me and my womanhood –that I am the culprit of seduction when it was an act between the two of us. He realized he couldn’t do casual because he was a ‘boyfriend type guy’ but he wasn’t ready to be in a relationship yet since he just broke up with his ex in August. I was shocked: at the double standard he was using against me, especially since he initiated sex between us; at the fact that he confessed he’s only had sex three times before me because he was amazing in bed; at the fact that it was ending and it wasn’t my choice; but mostly at the fact that he made my biggest fears of another meaningless two night stand come true. I forgot to check my blind spot with this guy and I ended up crashing. When I got home, I sobbed uncontrollably at the rejection, replaying every moment between us where I could have flubbed up things. The bargaining stage of “maybe if I hadn’t done this or that, then…” I was disappointed and I was blaming myself.

But as I’m writing this, I’m thinking of the number of people I’ve been with this past year and a half of being single and how many unpursued connections that could have been romantic options, temporarily or otherwise. Things worked out after one of my biggest heartbreaks to date, I reminded myself. And as I travelled by Queen’s Park Station, I was reading Mindy Kaling’s latest book, thinking how she’s still writing about these disappointments with love interests at 34. The next breath I took wasn’t as jagged, it didn’t hurt quite so much anymore, and I felt hopeful for the first time. I realized how I still have years to be as successful as Mindy and an infinite amount of time to find the love(s) of my life. Hell, I’ve already been in love and that’s a lot more than other people can say. Reflecting on that Tim Horton’s booth where things ended before they started between me and Mr. Blind Spot, I had just had an epiphany.

Since failed romances are supposed to be about learnings, I’ll impart mine upon those of you who have stuck around to read this:

It’s not about your looks. It’s not about your personality. Essentially, it’s not about you. It’s not even necessarily about the way you guys mesh together. It’s truly about what you and your interest are looking for at the moment. These guys may want the same vision as me down the line, but when we’re all out here in the 6ix in our early 20s, it’s our time to be selfish. Don’t take it personally.

I failed as a Toronto F*ckgirl. Instead of dating multiple people and not caring about anyone other than me, I ended up being monogamous and getting hurt. But that’s because I care about people and most importantly, I love myself enough to think I deserve the best rather than settle. At the end of the day, I wouldn’t give that up for anything. I know I’ll find someone out there someday who will want the same things as I do at that moment. It’s gonna happen for me again when it happens. In fact, I’m sure I’ll find many somebodies. It just takes time to get over the somebodies that you think might be someone to you. So be patient, be strong, and keep sifting through the f*ckboys.

May the force be with you this holiday season, my friends. Merry Christmas!

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…