“Never was a Story of More Woe” than Waiting for a 2nd Date



(rewriting Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, about a Garbage Man)

A des’prate wait this morning with it brings; 
The text, for assurance, will he show his head? 
Go hence, to have talk of these dating things; 
Some shall be assur’d, and some neglected: 
For never was a story of more woe 
Than this of SomethingSheDated and her Garbage Man-o.

So we had had our first date, our first meeting, Garbage Man and I — and it was awesome.  But now it was the day after and while I had played my 18-22s as a calm, cool, and collected Tin Man-esque gal, I was only a few months out of a 6 year relationship with Mega Love.  Not to mention that this was probably my first real experience with dating and was definitely my first experience with dating white guys (I don’t know why that matters, but somehow it seemed like it did, because it was just another factor making this situation feel all too alien to me).

Sure, I was a bit swoony when describing this date to my best friend and her husband.  But, I also know that this is hormones and pheromones and the novelty of it all, so I kept this new found swooning to myself–meaning I had to refrain from texting, calling, and all other forms of overzealous, overeager, too soon crazy.  That is, until he texted, the next evening.

Hey Victoria, I had a good time last night.  Don’t study too hard.

Breathe easy.
Be Breezy.
I text back.

I had a good time too.

The next few days that pass take the stregnth of 10 men (and one close friend) to keep me from texting or calling, because oh man, do I want to.  Don’t worry though, I kept that crazy urge to myself.  Well, myself and my friend and her husband.
After all, I mean, do I really think that Garbage Man is the love of my life, my soul mate, my other half, the Will Smith to my Jada Pinkett, the foreign baby to my Angelina, the brain to my George Bush, the passcode to my sphinx?  Probably Not.  And yet, and yet, I was dying to talk to him, to contact him, to set up our next date.
Here are the following reasons why I figure I’m so super super super impatient, wish I could call, and wish the weekend would come sooner so Garbage Man and I could (potentially) hang out again (though I reiterate, I know feeling this is nutty, and thus would not reveal this crazy to anyone but my friends, definitely not GMan).
  1. Making out (need I say more?  first kisses, butterflies, newness, exciting, hot, amazing!)
  2. My days are currently filled with reading endless pages of literature and studying.  No matter how good the books are, making out with butterflies in my stomach will always win as an activity I’d rather be doing.
  3. may, I repeat may, be vaguely vulnerable after the demise of my relationship with Mega Love.
  4. This really is my first real dating experience using the following definition :

A Date: An event where both parties know it will take place ahead of time; see term “setting a date”. It is recommended both parties show up sober and fully clothed. Dates take place in coffee shops, restaurants  someone’s apartment when appropriate, or at an event. Dates do not take place in cars, nightclubs, parking lots, or anywhere in Ft. Lewis. Though there is such a thing as a double date – if the numbers are not evenly matched (aka 2 girls 2 guys) than this is a party and not a date (aka 2 girls 1 guy or 2 girls and 5 guys etc.). For the purpose of this blog, dates with boyfriends do not count.

5.  Did I mention that there was making out?  No wonder I can’t focus!

So, I hold out till Wednesday.  4 days.  Not so good.  But at least it’s a breezy message, which I figure is okay since he texted the day after the date (though I’m vaguely aware of the fact that he hasn’t really contacted me again since the date.  Is he just being patient because I’m so busy with school?)

I text How’s your week going?
He texts Slow.  I think I’m getting the flu.  How are you doing?

Is it weird that my initial reaction to this was as if he had just told me he wasn’t interested anymore?

We texted back and forth for awhile after that but I’m not going to bore you with the texts.  I will say that Garbage Man ends up being sick for like the next 3 weeks but *Spoiler Alert* we do eventually have a 2nd date, so stay tuned :).



*Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One Something at a Time*

The Date Whisperer: Garbage Man Raises The Bar



It started out like a scene from a Romantic Comedy…

Two adorable singles headed out for a pseudo-blind date.  They decide to meet at a coffee shop, a seemingly safe and fool-proof plan.  Pragmatically they choose a coffee shop halfway between their respective homes.  The girl google-maps the meeting spot, just to double check the Starbucks location.They set off, each in their own vehicles, boy aren’t they cute.  They arrive at the shopping complex where they have planned to meet up.  He goes to the Starbucks on the south side of the mall, She goes to the one on the north side of the mall.  What are the bloody chances???  They both think they’ve been stood up and go home…screeech just kidding!  He called to see where I was at, we got it sorted out and repositioned accordingly.  And that’s when all the magic began…


When I walk up, I see Garbage Man immediately (as he’s standing right outside).  This is a huge relief since one of my biggest fears is that awkward moment (if it happens) where you don’t recognize the person you’re meeting (or they’re not there yet and you have to stand around feeling like a loser.  But I digress because he was right there.  We hug.  I’m a hugger.  He is tall.  And adorable.  If he was a 3 or 4 in his pictures, he’s a 5 or 6 in person!  Excellent Jeans, Nice hoodie, very good hair, excellent cologne.

We go inside.  He proceeds to do several incredibly cute things:  asking what kind of coffee I drink, paying, asking about and getting the splenda/stir stick/lid/etc. for my drink, finding us a table, getting our drinks and bringing them to the table.  It’s all very chivalrous (aka just nice).

Coffee goes on for two hours and is filled with chat chat chatter.  Beautiful miraculous chatter, flowing and nervous, butterflies and giggles, smirks and cute smiles, witty repartee at its finest.  This may be a slight exaggeration but then I bring to your attention the title to this blog: The Date Whisperer.  The point isn’t really that Garbage Man is the most amazing person ever or even that he’s an excellent match for myself…the point was his ability to navigate this date, it was effortless, like it had a life of its own; a flying carpet showing me the world.

Neither seems to want the date to end.  He’s mentioned getting food more than once and though I’d sooner chew someone else’s gum then eat in front of him at this juncture (yeah that’s right, I’m a chick who doesn’t want to eat in front of a guy right away, so sue me), not to mention I’m actually not at all hungry what with all those butterflies filling me up, but I’m not ready for the the date to end, so we go for food.


Coffee turns into dinner and still we’re not ready to call it a night (I credit the magic dress I’m wearing, boobs look huge, ass looks great, tummy looks small woohoo! magic dress!).  At this point I’ve made the estimation that he in fact is neither a serial killer nor a super dud, so we go back to his place to watch a movie.


His Place
So you could say we watched a movie but honestly I can barely even remember watching it.  I believe (because again, I was under the spell of the Date Whisperer) that we just kind of sat there for quite awhile enjoying the fact that we were sitting so close.  Close sitting leads to hand holding leads to making out leads to me drawing my line in the sand and then it was time to call it a night.  The only other funny thing worth mentioning was the fact that he wears Rocawear cologne.  Now most of my friends did not really see any significance when I mentioned this but…well…honestly…I just thought it was hilarious because Rocawear is essentially an African American brand (Jay-Z, Rocafella, etc.)  It’s like he’s a black, white guy…okay not quite but still funny.


(My) Reasons For Not Having First Date Relations

I’m 28 not 22, it’s not as easy to be easy anymore.

I still haven’t had sex (or even a kiss) since Mega Love and first date sex is not what I had in mind.

I haven’t had sex with a White Guy SOBER since the first time I had sex, like a decade ago.

White guys make me more nervous, I feel like they’re judging me a lot harsher than black guys not to mention that I feel like with black guys, I’m something they’ve seen before, but white guys I almost feel like I’m their detour to chubby town or that they just find ME sexy and are not normally into girls this big.

Slow and steady wins the race…or so they say


*Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One Something at a Time*

Introducing Shakespeare’s “The Courtship of SomethingSheDated and The Garbage Man”



A Tale of Star Crossed Lovers (as told by a Vancouver dating blogger)

Two profiles, both alike in dignity,
In fair Vancouver, where we lay our scene,
From ancient heart-break to new cupidity,
Where stupid boys make crazy minds unclean.
From forth the craving loins of these two joes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers frustrate their life;
Whose misadventured messaging overthrows
Do with their lust bury their ex’s strife.
The heated feeling she impatient of,
With the proliferation of her controlling rage,
Which, his slow tardy notes, nought could remove,
Is now the lengthy blogs of this our stage;
The which if you with patient eyes attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

This, is the story of the Garbage Man

When I look back now, it felt like I had been single for months and months but in actuality, the ex (henceforth referred to as MegaLove) and I broke up over thanksgiving (the canadian one) and I was already online dating by early December, but I was also in university at the start of my second BA so December was filled with exams, not boys.  And that brings me to Garbage Man, whose courtship went something like this:

He messages me.

I respond.

Witty repartee.

Witty repartee.

Witty repartee.

Pros:  He’s normal, tall (good stance) and has the witty repartee

Cons: His photos are not great (I’d give him a 4) though I think potential

Witty repartee

Witty repartee.

Witty repartee.

He asks for my phone number.

I give it to him.

He texts.

I text back.

He asks if it’s cool if he calls (aka am I free).

I say no, super busy with school, I’ll call tomorrow night.

Next night I call. No answer. I leave message.

While talking to TheHel (my friend) he calls, I don’t want to answer but TheHel makes me.

We talk for about half an hour (This is 2009 and I still have pay as you go! Fuck!)

He asks if we can hang out.

I tell him I’m too busy right now with school (Monday) but I’ll text in a week when I’m less busy.


Friday (5 days later)

I text.

He texts.

We make plans.

Coffee tomorrow.

He’ll call at noon.

I send pics of all the cute boys I’m talking to at the moment: ATL, Garbage Man, 44yr old., The Alice Cooper, The Barbie guy, The firefighter.  She firmly supports Garbage Man (and ATL).  I’m super nervous, internet dating, really?  Why does it feel so much weirder at 28 than say 22?  The Hel convinces me to give them a go.  She clearly sees potential.



He calls around noon.

We make plans

Starbucks @ 6pm

Halfway between his place and mine


To Be Continued… 


*Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One Something at a Time*