The Rules According to SSDated: What Is My Online Dating Body Type?

Body Types

Something She Said

Stories about sex and dating, screenshots of sexist online dating messages, murder jokes, elaborately long fruit puns–you never quite know what you’re going to get.

 

While guys seem to misrepresent height the most on dating profiles, the ladies seem to most often misrepresent body type (or at least that’s what the boys tell me).  Now on the one hand maybe they’re doing it on purpose (like the dudes about height) but I have hope that a great deal of the misrepresentation is because they just simply don’t know how to categorize themselves.

Side bar:  Save all the bullshit about we shouldn’t be categorized and I’m more than just my body and blah blah blah.  Yes.  I know.  These things are obvious.  But writers are more than just their name.  And clothes are more than just their size.  But at some point the library and the sale clerk have to fucking pick a location or the world would be chaos.  So sit down.  Pay attention.  And find your category.  At least for the moment.

So here’s the thing of the thing.  Or more exactly.  Here’s the reason I think a great deal of misrepresentation is accidental and confusion and not machination a plot to fool dudes.  I myself put Big & Tall/BBW.  But here’s the weird thing.  I’ve had more than one guy message me with something akin to You’re not a BBW, you’re just “a little extra”.  I, of course, disagree.  But that being said, I have more than one full body photo up so it was interesting to see this new perspective.  Not to mention the can of worms that is the very notion that this dude was…uh…flirting…I guess.  But that’s another topic.  And if it had happened only once I wouldn’t have given it a second thought.  But then it happened again.  And again.  Bizarro.  But worth noting.

And then another thing happened that made me question our ability to accureately determine either what terms mean or what were are within those terms.  I was at a party awhile back.  Talking about dating.  Which I always do.  At parties.  And my friend told me that her body type selection listed her as average.  My jaw dropped to the floor.

*Warning:  Purely Anecdotal Claims To Follow*

As far as I knew, the average size of women in North America is something like a size 14/16.  That being said (sorry my beloved Americans) but I would guess that if you narrow that down to just Canada it’s probably closer to size 12.  And then to be honest, if you narrow that down for probably one of the fittest cities in Canada (people here climb mountains before work…for fun…I mean what the fuck right.  Grouse Grind.  Pssshhh.  Fucking disgusting admirable.), Vancouver…that probably drops to a 10.  At best guess I would’ve said my friend was a size 2? maybe 4?  To be honest I’m not the best person to guess being that I haven’t worn a non-plus size since I was 16 and wearing XL at the gap but I’m just saying.  Either way there’s not a chance in hell that she’d qualify for average.

Side bar:  To be clear average is awesome.  So is thin.  So is chubby.  So is whatever.  Boys like all shapes and sizes.  And even if they didn’t.  Women come in all shapes and sizes.  And we became amazing the day we were born.  Finding the right category isn’t about judgement.  It’s about categorization.  It’s really that simple.

So like I was saying.  She was not average.  Not to mention she’s tallish like me…5’7ish.  She would definitely fit in the thin category.  And now to why girls don’t know how to categorize themselves because the designation definitions are so unclear.  She didn’t put thin because to her thin meant thin and super athletic or something akin to unhealthy supermodels.  Her logic was that *while pinching some skin on her belly* she had this *attempting to show me something she construed as fat around her middle*.

I was flabbergasted.  Uh…that’s just skin I said.  And then I went on to explain that while perhaps her doctor might have his own definitions based on BMI and heart health and stress tests…that’s not what body type means for a dating website.  As shallow as it sounds, body type is about one’s body…the outer exterior of it.  If you want to give your cholesterol stats and talk about your fitness regime…well…that’s what the about me section is for.  Body type was simple.  Should be simple.  Why couldn’t it just be simple!

And that’s where I come in.  To make it simple.  And to use context.  Because that’s what the world of dating needs.  A little bit of simple context.

 

(OkC) – OKCupid

(POF) – Plenty of Fish

 

Athletic (OkC)(POF),  You know who has an athletic body type…Athletes…athletic body type is about muscle…and whether or not you have it.  Sure, I play fastpitch softball in the summer, workout at the gym and play badminton (the good workout kind, not that wimpy shit for the no-skilled) but regardless, I do not have an athetlic body.  Or maybe I do, but it’s hidden under the rest of my body.  Either way I have a brain.  That tells me that in the context of dating and sex.  I do NOT have the body of an athlete.  So while not having toned muscles and 6 pack abs doesn’t change anything about your value as a person, it does kick you out of this category.

 

Body Builder  You’re probably thinking…Isn’t this the same as athlete?  And the answer is no.  It’s kind of like assuming a small popcorn is the same as the jumbo size.  And yes I think it’s clear that my food analogy discounts me from this category.  Yes a body builder is athletic but a body builder is clearly a special kind of athlete.  And to be honest, I can’t imagine anyone getting this category wrong.  Because the thing of the thing is.  If you’re a body builder, you fucking no it.  You’re likely chowing down protein shakes and spending every day at the gym.  But just a word of caution.   This is a body designation not a declaration of intent.  So if you’re only on your 4th shake in week 1, you are NOT a body builder.  The same way some dude taking science classes at University can call himself PreMed but isn’t in fact a doctor.  If you’re not ready to enter a competition, you are NOT a body builder.

 

Average  (OkC)(POF)  Now this seems to be the trickiest.  And unfortunately, unlike all the other body type designations will depend a bit on which site you’re using.  See if it was up to me there would be 2 averages.  Average and Average & Fit.  See the thing of the thing is, you can be a size 12 eating poutine with shots of vodka, heading outside for a quick smoke and then spending every afternoon napping (no judgment 😉 or you can be a size 12 doing yoga, playing soccer, eating lean proteins and lots of fruits and veggies, and a sober non-smoker.  Now of course there’s the possibility that Average & Fit should actually be in the Athlete designation but there is a big difference between being a normal person who works out and eats healthy and someone who maintains an athletes body of ripped muscle.

That being said…in a world in which there aren’t two designations of average.  What’s a person to pick???  And that’s where context comes in.  You’re going to have to look at the other options because they matter.  But before I get into how to decide let’s look at the other options.

 

Curvy  (OkC)  Now I know some people will disagree with me.  But in a world that has designations like Plus Sized, BBW, Full Figured, etc.  Curvy really shouldn’t be used as a fall back term.  While certainly, using a purely structuralist approach, Curvy could be used to describe anybody who wasn’t straight lined square shaped…let’s get real.  The point is to make these categories smaller and more precise, not be an irritating antagonist.  So seriously though.  Curvy is like Marilyn Monroe.  Or Beyonce.  Kim Kardashian.  Or these chicks.  Curvy means a decent difference in boob to waist to ass ratio (waist being smaller of the 3).

 

Plus SizedFull Figured (OkC), Big & Tall/ BBW (POF)  Now to be honest.  I find plus sized pretty simple.  Because it’s an actual thing.  Plus size.  It means anything size 16+.  Now to be fair some people might assume anything size 14+ and some might not think of it till 18+ but the truth is…now you’re just splitting hairs.  And sure some girls that are curvy may be plus sized and some that are plus sized may be curvy.  And that’s where it gets tricky.  The best way is always context.  You have to think about who this body designation matters to.  This isn’t a job interview.  Or a health show questionairre.  This isn’t a shopping guide and nobody is trying to buy you a sweater.  You’re answering this for boys.  Men.  Dudes.  And while you can take issue with that all you want, this is a dating website (and under the exception you’re a gay female) the only person who cares about this is going to be a dude so you might as well answer it how he would think of it.  So Plus Sized is what it is.  If you wear a size 14 or more, you are Plus Sized.  Simple.

 

Slim, Thin (POF)(OkC), Skinny (OkC)  This designation is actually incredibly similar to the way one figures out Plus Sized.  It’s about body shape/size.  There is no considering as to health or diet.  That isn’t what is being asked here.  Slim means thin means slim means thin.  It’s very simple.  It’s not about body fat.  It’s about actual size.  So if you have small/slim bones.  And the rest of your body reflects this.  You’re slim.  thin.  etc.  Simple.

 

Stocky  I don’t really know any girls who would ever answer this because well…it sounds kind of mannish.  So maybe it’s a category more specifically for the dudes.  Stocky is essentially boxy or thick.  Someone who is solid but doesn’t necessarily fall into either the A Little Extra or body builder categories.

 

Categories that should be eliminated.  The truth is some shit just sounds bad.  And while it’s one thing to be honest, it’s a whole other story to try and sell a car by giving it only a 50% crash survival rate, if you know what I’m saying.  Nobody is going to answer Overweight (OkC) also because again it’s too open.  Overwhichweight.  And while OkCupid and POF have slightly better options offered as A little extra (OkC), A Few Extra Pounds (POF), I think that my idea of 2 different types of averages could both eliminate these “undesirables” and make it more clear just exactly what type of bodies people have.  Additionally, if you already have Athletic, having Fit (OkC) is just fucking stupid and confusing.  Nuff said.  Additionally, is Jacked (OkC) supposed to mean something like Stacked ?!?! Which could either be a reference to big tits, a comment on body building, or implying an UP at the end thus making sure no one would pick it anyway…who wants to be looking jacked up?  Which is kind of like Used Up (OkC) also super stupid.  And finally, if these sites, and the people who use them listen to me and my wisdom (because as Joey says on Friends…I am wisdomous), the final categories of Rather Not Say (OkC), Prefer Not To Say (POF) will never need to be used.

 

The Rules According to SSDated

 

A Dating Rulebook

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he sheer brilliance of it.  In theory,  I mean, can you imagine?  If there was a Rule Book for romance.?  A manual of mating.  A chart of courtship.  A pamphlet for partnering.  A fucking Dictionary to Dating.

Can you imagine the time you would save.  Instead of trying to decipher the difference between casual sex and hanging out or what each of those fucking body type selections actually mean, you could be out doing things??  I bet you would have enough time to cure cancer.  Or at least raise a couple bucks towards the cause.  Maybe sign up for a walk or two.  Grow a ‘stache.  Either way.  You’d have some time on your hands, I swear.  Especially you ladies.  Because while I can’t speak for men.  I know us chicks waste a gallon of time swimming around in the unclear waters of dating.  And those muggy waters are a serious pain in my ass.  Seriously.  And it’s not the spending of time that bothers me.  It the unecessariness of it all that drives me batshit crazy.  Bat.  Shit.  Crazy.

And thus, I bring you THE RULES.  That’s right.  I’m taking it on.  The task of clarifying dating.  er.  well.  Online Dating.  I’m not a wizard after all.  Kidding.  I’m totally a wizard!  But nonetheless I still can’t take on everything related to dating in one fell swoop.  So we’re going to start with online dating and go from there.

And you may have noticed in the title…that SSDated substitutes for the word RIGHT.  And though there’s always room for new knowledge, ways of thinking and general improvement; I think we can safely assume if I didn’t think I was right about this stuff, I wouldn’t be writing it.  But that’s almost not even the most important part.  Because.  And here I’m about to get a little saussy* with it, being that I’m such a cunning linguist* (insert additional-super-nerdy-linguistics-philosophy-critical-theory-jokes here).  The thing of the thing is this:

 

A means A.       B means B.       A does not mean B. 

 

A = A           B = B          A ≠ B

It doesn’t matter what means so much as that we can recognize it as different from B.  And dating terminology and discussion is like that.  It’s not that it intrinsically matters what hanging out means so much as that we can differentiate it from anything else.

So assuming I haven’t lost you with my nerdy approach.  Stay tuned for a series of posts where we can finally get to the bottom of what everything means.  And from there we can build our Utopian dating site world.  Okay.  So that might not actually happen.  But.  But?!?!  Maybe we’ll start a something.  Perhaps become the Wikipedia of wooing.  The Urban Dictionary of unsuccessful dating.  er.  wait.  that one doesn’t quite work.  But either way.  You get the idea.  In 200 years, they’ll talk about me.  SSDated.  The Samuel Johnson** of Sexy Jokes.  The Jimmy Wales*** of jutting…er…okay I’m all out of awesome alliteration.

 

The Rules:  More coming Soon

The Rules According to SSDated:  What is My Online Dating Body Type?

The Rules According to SSDated:

 

*Ferdinand de Saussure, French Linguist

**Samuel Johnson wrote the first dictionary, in English

***Jimmy Wales created Wikipedia, according to Wikipedia

The Comic: Kissing on the Docks in Old Port

Pearl Necklace

 

[dropcap]S[/dropcap]o, I had met a Montreal Comic, watched him host a show, and now we were at the docks in Old Port.

In all honesty, it was a pretty great idea for a first date-second location.  It was novel (he got to point out things because I’m new here, show me the river, there were boats – and who doesn’t love boats?!?).  It was private and one could argue romantic, but without being pressure-filled and presumptuous (like say, going to someone’s apartment might be).  And it was just kind of fun.

We walked along for awhile, hand-holding etc.  The first kiss came and went and it was pretty good (I’m starting to wonder about the science of race and kissing at this point given how few black men and how many white men suck at it).  I was wearing my magic dress (the one that makes my boobs look huge, my stomach look small, and my ass look great) and feeling good.  Things were going swimmingly.

The night wasn’t, however, without its flaws.  For example, he definitely got a bit too handsy out there on the docks.  I’m all for a secluded public makeout sesh at 2am when no one is really around but these DDs don’t make public appearances for anyone so it did kind of annoy me that he kept trying to get at ’em and even tried to put ’em on display.  Like, we’re on the docks here not out in the middle of the desert dude, people could come by.  Plus, he kept feeling all over my body, so I spent a lot of time petrified that he’d feel my spanx and it would be like that scene in Bridge Jones’ Diary.

After awhile, the night started to cool off quite a bit (my first respite from the 30+ humid heat of Montreal that had been constant since I’d moved there at the end of July) and so he took me home.  When we arrived at my apartment, I assumed that would be the end of our date.  A quick kiss goodbye and something about doing this again and I’d be off.  But, that’s not quite what happened.

Detour:  Do most men feel like only teenagers get pressured into doing things that they didn’t want to do?  Do most men think that it’s either black or white, you want to fuck immediately or not at all?  Because, I have to say I feel like that’s the case, and it’s just not true.

Because even me, this supposedly strong, bold, self-assured, take no prisoners, suffer no-bullshit no-nonsense, woman, gets pressured into shit from time to time and I’ll tell you how and why it happens.  It happens, because sexual activity can be a slippery slope.

In my experience, guys are almost always pushing for a bit more, for things to go a bit faster, and AS FUCKING IRRITATING AS IT IS THAT I HAVE TO HOLD  THE REINS AND GUIDE THE PACE, that’s usually how it happens.  It’s generally the girl trying to slow things down.  But, this isn’t to say she doesn’t want the same things to happen (as I often do), it’s that she needs more time, more connection, more whatever.  And it is this reason that she doesn’t just jump up and say fuck you and bolt.  Because she wants things to progress, just at a different speed, and so she doesn’t want to spazz out on the guy, but he keeps pushing and pushing for just a little bit more.  And he doesn’t do it in a scary way (usually), it’s mostly done in an annoying way, so that by the time I’m “making eighth grade love to him” (read: giving him a handy in the front seat of his – what I now think is his parents’ – car outside of my apartment, and letting him give me a somewhat sloppy pearl necklace, I’ve started to lose all that passion I had when we first started making out on the docks.  Suddenly, I’m thinking about how I’m almost 31 and just got pressured into giving a handjob I would’ve rather saved for our second date and cleaning his jizz off my collar bone (and silently laughing that he also got it on his mom’s upholstery).  Suddenly, I’m not so into this comic who seemed nice and fun and though he’s managing to smooth this over a bit by praising my digital skill set, I’m still mostly focused on the fact that I feel a bit icky for having been pressured at all and I’m feeling a bit sad because now I’m thinking about other girls who have really been pressured and even forced to do all kinds of things they didn’t want to do by shitty guys and how I’ll get over this but will they be able to get over the horrible things that happen to them and now I’m thinking about how I can help those women hurt by those shitty men instead of being hot and bothered for this weak guy who – and maybe it was just the way the street lighting bounced off the dashboard or the way the shadows fell but I’m pretty sure this guy – has the most terrifying O face I’ve ever seen.

So yeah.  That’s how our date ended.  A handjob in a shitty car on a brand new street under the lamps and the possibility someone might see you cum.  The lights of Montreal a little dimmer in my eyes.

A New “Something”: Dating a Montreal Comic

 

[dropcap]I[/dropcap] started this new website because I wanted to branch out from blogging solely about sex and dating because I have some bullshit ego that actually thinks I might have some important things to say that involve more than how I like to get fucked and the idiots who never get the chance to use this information and I needed a new place to do that.  But, that doesn’t mean I don’t still want to write about sex and dating, because I definitely do.  The problem is that it turns out it’s a bit hard (pun always intended) to get back in the fucking…swing of things.

Turns out, if you take a year off and rarely date, that you get a bit out of touch with sharing certain vulnerable bits about yourself.  Especially, when SPOILER ALERT: that shit is embarrassing

But enough of my insecurities and awkwardness – because I’m here right – so, obviously, I’m still planning to write and share and do this thing and mostly just hope you don’t find me tedious and boring.  And with that, let’s get to it…

 

The Comic

It was late August, and I had been living in Montreal for a few weeks.  The first week sucked as I tried to find an apartment.  The second week was so so as I tried to fill my new tiny apartment with furniture without having a car, family or friends to help transport.  And the third week was – well – you can read about it HERE from the very beginning.  Needless to say, things in Montreal seemed to really be working out.

So, the comic.  I’m not sure how we found each other.  (that’s a total lie, I’m basically the KGB and reverse engineered our meeting like a fucking pro – long story short, I saw his profile in tiny form on an acquaintances Facebook page, saw that he was a comic HURRAH! and that he lived in Montreal HURRAH! (A LOCAL MONTREAL COMIC!!) and then I looked for him on Twitter and there he was HURRAH!  The logic was that following someone on Twitter = normal, adding a stranger on Facebook = weird, and we all know I like to keep my weird to myself…well…and you guys).

Almost as soon as I followed him he started talking to me.  Nothing epic, just ya know hey, how’s it going, so I see you followed me on Twitter, etc.

Disclaimer:  I waited a year to write this so while some things are imprinted on my memory like hot iron to an ass cheek, other details are a little fuzzier, so conversations may be a little weaker than normal due to recollection limitations (ie. I’m getting old and forgetty).

We DMed for a bit.  Then somehow the talk switched to Facebook and him wanting to know what I looked like (I was still anonymous back then).  I did my usual spiel of so um I’m fat but sure if you want to see and we added each other to Facebook.  He came back with something along the lines of 

You look like you’re someone that would be great to cuddle with

I took this, of course, to mean that you look huge and cuddly and like someone I’d want to watch a non-sexual movie with and then braid each other’s hair.

Apparently though, that’s not what he meant.  While I think of cuddling as sweetness and comfort, to some people it’s more like foreplay, the thing that leads to sex and thus, very much, has sexual connotations.  Who the fuck knew?!?

We messaged back and forth for awhile (just because I thought he wanted to be buddies wasn’t a reason to stop chatting.  This was a new city, where I knew no one, I certainly wasn’t in the position to be tossing potential friends to the wayside, particularly friends in the “making people laugh” business – what are you, nuts?!?!).

And then, he invited me to a show.

It was kind of last minute and I already had plans to workout (I had already lost nearly 20lbs. since moving to Montreal), so I told him I’d be there but I’d probably be a bit late.

*skip to a couple hours later*

I show up to the address, walk in the building and find a practically empty bar.  Luckily the bartender is paying attention and motions me upstairs for the comedy club (Comedy Works).  I can hear laughter coming from inside and do my very best to open the door as silently as possible.  Once inside, I look around, and the place is fucking packed to the gills (bearing in mind it’s a small place, it’s dark as fuck, and I’m all nervous and awkward), so I just kind of stand in the back, plus I don’t really want to draw attention to myself by scrounging around for a seat when someone is performing onstage.

And then I see it, it’s him, the comic I’ve come to meet.

His act is pretty funny, a tad feminine for my taste but regardless, up there under the lights commanding the show he looks pretty good.  Out of the corner of my eye I spot one bar stool.  One singular tiny little bar stool, wedged between two grown men.  It appears to be the only seat in the room, and it’s calling out to me.

When the Comic (who I now realize is hosting the show) steps off the stage, I see this as my chance to dart across the room and snag this stool.  I quietly ask the two men if anyone is using the stool and could I steal it away from them.  Instead, though, one of the men jumps up to give me his seat (enchante).  

I accept, and sit down.  I assume he’s just being kind and that this will be the end of the exchange.  It is not, however.  He continues to talk to me, asks me questions.  Honestly, I don’t remember most of what was said, just that it was all harmlessly but definitely flirty.

The next comic goes up and the show goes on with the laughter caused from stage and the flirting caused by the man to my side.  Until, of course, the knight turns out to be the headliner and heads up to the stage.  Well ain’t that some shit!?!?

Around this time is when my comic, the one I had come to see, spotted me and came over for a chat.  I was expecting a new friend but lo and behold before I had enough time to bat my incredibly short eyelashes, his arm was sliding around my waist and hugs and a lot of close standing ensued.

It was around this time that the whole cuddling-misunderstanding started to dawn on me.

The next part of the night is a bit of a blur (and I’m doing my best not to make this story drag on forever – like you know I tend to do).  The show is over, he helps clean up the place, I make friends with other comics (so much so that later people think that I’ve come as a friend of one of them).  A little while later we all go downstairs to have a drink at the bar.  The comic informs me that his friend drove him (and that he lives in the ‘burbs) but if I wanted to stay and hang out he’d dash home and get his car and come right back).

At the time my thought process went like this…

Good…he obviously thought he might have to have an excuse to bail out and now doesn’t want one

Bad…how broke is he that he can’t take a cab home one time because of a sexy lady?

Goodlook at me going out by myself (sort of) in Montreal…life is fun…be a good spirit…smile…weee!!!

Bad…show some fucking forethought man. damn. bring your own car and don’t make excuses if I was lame.

Good…he invited me out, he made me laugh, his friends are lovely and think I’m fucking lovely, hurray.

Bad…how long does it take to get to the ‘burbs and back

 

The good won in my head and I said sure.  After all, I was busy making friends with the other comics, a lovely and interesting girl and the headliner (who as it turns out is married and thus felt he could safely tell me that I’m absolutely beautiful and while I don’t trust his judgment, truth or not who doesn’t have a good night when someone goes out of their way to publicly announce you’re beauty? I mean that’s some ‘night-making’ shit right there.

Because of construction, it took the comic longer than he had hoped to get back to me but get back he did.  We stayed at the bar a bit longer and then headed to his car, in order to go to a second location.  And before anyone gets all ON THE FIRST DATE?!?! and IS THAT SAFE?!?!  I assure you, unless he had a gun, I could take him and thus my safety was never in peril.

We discussed going for food but I wasn’t really that interested in eating and he didn’t seem to have any especially great places jump to mind (which I honestly found a bit weird – isn’t Montreal supposed to have amazing food and be the Canadian city that never sleeps?!?!).  Eventually, he suggested we go to Old Port (vieux port) or Old Montreal (vieux Montreal) or more specifically to the part we went to…the docks.

 

To Be Continued…

Dear Boys, You’ll Never Get a Mile if You Lie About an Inch

Is it okay to lie on a dating profile?

Rules of Online Dating

Is it okay to lie in an online dating profile?

 

Online Dating…it’s a tricky bitch.  There are few very certainties that all people can agree on.

Some want to meet right away while others want weeks of messages and texting and phone calls before they’re ready for a public appearance.  And then there are others who fall somewhere in the middle.

Some think your profile should reveal all your specialties and idiosyncrasies (in order to find a good match) while others think your profile should acknowledge the bare minimum of information required (saving the rest to be discovered during the dating phase).

And the truth is in dating as in relationships, there’s a lot of wiggle room and everybody can make an argument for wanting something different. However, I think it’s safe to say that nobody, ever, is hoping to be duped.  In fact, deception might be one of the single most upsetting occurrences in dating.

Has deception ever been a revered quality in a person?  Does anyone sit at home, looking at online dating profiles, and think to themselves…I sure hope this guy, who I’ve been messaging with back and forth, turns out to be someone completely different…I mean it would be down right boring if I made an educated selection about the kind of physical appearance I find attractive and the kind of personality I feel I’d mesh well with…and the person that showed us was actually like that!!  La-Ame!

So you have to wonder.  Why do people do it??  Why do people lie in their dating profiles??  Or as I’m sure they’ve rationalized it… fudge the truth.  And it’s not a gender thing because both women and men do it.  Albeit misguided fools, but both men and women nonetheless.  I apologize if the use of the word fool seems too harsh for anybody’s delicate sensibility but the truth is, if you’re actively being dishonest in life…honestly…I generally fucking can’t stand you.  Like, think you make the world a worse place.  As in, wonder where your parents fucked up.  Wonder how you got to be so awful.  Wonder why you deserve any happiness at all in this life when you’re actively sucking joy from the world of others.

But.  Like the judgmental person that I am, who though quick to judge is also quick to feel empathy and change my mind, I also feel a sadness.  Like, where did your life go wrong that you feel you have to make up who you are.  As in, why do you feel so less than that you’re writing a fiction of who you want to become rather than living the life that is yours.  How did you get to the point where you didn’t feel that you were enough.  Just you.  Enough.  And that’s more the person I write this for.  That misguided fool.  Who needs a helping hand.  Even if they don’t know it yet.

So before I get further into the recesses of just exactly why lying in your dating profile is so absolutely fucking ridiculous and idiotic (I mean above and beyond the simple fact lying is bullshit)…I want to mention the lie that I’ve found to be the most prevalent in my adventures so far.

 

Liar, Liar, Shoes With Lifts On Fire

 

Men lie up.  The more experience I have with online dating and the more I talk about it with other people the more I learn how astoundingly prevalent lying about one’s height is for guys.  Apparently the norm is something like adding 2 inches if you’re under 5’10 (if you’re above 5’10 it seems you’re less likely to bother though I still hear of its occurrence and if you’re 6’0 and over apparently you’re all in the clear…for this).

Women lie down.  Now unfortunately this is just anecdotal for me.  I’ve yet to meet a girl who lied about her height, though I’ve had people tell me it happens…and the logic (using that term loosely) is there…if a short guy would lie up, a tall girl might lie down.  So it could very well be possible, who knows.

But here’s the thing of the thing.  Boys.  When you lie about your height, you’re causing numerous problems for yourself.  Height isn’t everything.  Even for someone like me…who has a huge complex about the guy being tall because I’m big and otherwise I feel like the due and then nobody wins…has been known to have it not be any kind of deterrent.  After all…some of the best sex I’ve ever had was with a dude who was 5’9 (and I’m 5’7 so that’s pretty close).  But when you lie.  When you pretend to be something you’re not?!?!  Well fuck.  That says a few things to me.  And none of them are good.  It says that you:

a.  Think I’m an idiot

b.  Think I’m easily duped.  (that sounds a bit like a. but I think the additional aspect worth mentioning is that you think I’m naive and can be taken advantage of…and also that you’re the kind of person who would try to take advantage of another)

c.  Think that I have such low standards as to date a blatantly dishonest person

d.  Think very poorly of yourself and nobody wants to date someone with low self-esteem

 

So what I don’t get is why guys do it.  Is it a bit of the Bird Seed Theory and that you’re essentially throwing so much bird seed that you figure even if you hit 6 birds who notice you lied that there will be 1 bird who never notices and thus you get away with murder…the murder of honesty?  Is that the goal?  *puts head down on desk and weeps for humanity* I mean holy shit.  That’s some vaguely pathetic slightly pathological shit.  Eeek.  Ick.  Uck.  Gross.

That being said…I’d love to hear from anybody who ever fudges the truth in their online dating profile.  Whether about height or something else.  I promise to offer a one-time experience of immunity from judgement (though you should know I’ll be pretending you’ve seen the error of your ways and from here on out will be presenting yourself honestly)…either that or make a good argument (and prepare for a rebuttal) about why you think dishonesty is okay.

 

Dating the World a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time

10 Easy Ways to Get Over a Breakup

How to get over a breakup

 

Break-up got you down?

3 dates and he ditched?

Ego bruised and beaten?

Pride battered and fried?

Mmmm fried.

 

Here’s a couple easy ideas for when your love troubles have you putting on your ice-cream-eating-pants.

 

1.  Donate blood.  What?!?!  Who just became a super philanthropic amazing person that the whole world should worship for her selfless deeds???  You did!  Okay okay so you took 6 cookies and shoved them in your purse before asking for a second juice box but times are tough and since you no longer have a man to buy you dinners you’re going to have to get creative with your funds.  Nobody can blame you for being thrifty.

 

2.  Find a good cause to support.  And yes, getting a super high calorie coffee beverage and sitting outside your local firehouse to smile at the pretty fireman (and thus brightening their day) is totally supporting them.  It would obviously be best if you could raise some funds for burn victims or something but either way…we know you’re doing your best.  You’re practically Erin Brockovich!

 

3.  Go for a run.  And yes running from the cops definitely counts.  We get it.  You’re broke.  You’ve got nothing to lose.  And you were just joking when you told that bank teller to (and I quote) “Give me all your money lady!!!” (and pointed your fake gun at her)…how were you supposed to know she wouldn’t get your sarcasm.  It’s not your fault she handed over that big stack of 50s!  So go ahead and get your jog on…all that exercise will release some endorphins.  So will using that money to buy heroin but I would suggest using it for a gym membership instead.  Just a thought.  Run Forest Run!

 

4.  Make a voodoo doll.  Don’t freak out, it won’t actually work but handicrafts are a good use of your post-heartbreak time.  They build hand-eye coordination, give you something to focus on, and most importantly allow you to pretend you’re not all alone (what’s that debbie daisy doll?  no I don’t mean you…you are excellent company for me on a Saturday night…I love spending time with you…I just meant for this poor loser…she’ll need a doll…you and me are friends…you’re totally real)

 

5.  Bake a cake.  Obviously I mean BUY a cake.  Eat it.  Isn’t that delicious.  Mmmmm…now go throw it up because you won’t be able to do number 6 if you keep eating all these cakes, fatty.  Hahaha just kidding!! You’re beautiful just the way you are and you know who is going to appreciate that???  All the hot guys who want to sleep (I mean value) you. 

 

6.  Sleep with a hot guy.  Take pictures.  (As souvenirs, not to send to your ex, that would be pathetic and creepy).  If you can’t get a hot guy, sleep with a funny guy.  If you can’t get that, sleep with a moderately good looking guy with average intelligence.  Still can’t get one of those???  Okay well just try to fill one of the 4 major requirements.  Hot.  Funny.  Smart.  Rich.  Anything else and you’re just settling.  But that’s okay too.  Hurray for settling.  Is there any cake left???

 

7.  Find a wingchick.  They can be hotter or funnier than you but not both.  And make sure they can say….”haaaaavvvvvvveeeee you met *insert your name*?” convincingly and with pizzazz.  If they need training, make them watch videos of How I Met Your Mother over and over again with you until they get it.  Make her aware that she’s Barney and YOU’RE TED.  She can get laid on her own time!  If she’s funnier than you, drink only diet sodas and eat fruit.  If she’s hotter than you go ahead and eat chocolate.  It’ll level the playing field.  

 

8.  Join an online dating site.  Puh-leeeze!  As if you’re not already on one!  Everybody is on one these days.  And that’s as it fucking should be. Now start searching more specifically for your next date.  In the career field type in “counsellor” or “psychologist” or if you really want to shoot for the moon “psychiatrist” (they can prescribe the good drugs).  Either way you’ll now be able to both date and save money on therapy.  Additionally, if you ever pay for any of the dates you can put the expense under “health care” on your taxes.  That’s totally legit.  I swear.

 

9.  Cease all contact.  No stalking on facebook.  Don’t look at his Twitterfeed.  No googling.  No username searching.  Just.  Let.  Him.  Fade.  From.  Memory.  Sure the first day or two will be hard but before you know it you’ll be back to cruising the guy who sells hot dogs on the corner and asking for yours “extra plump” and Mr.what’s-his-face won’t even be a second thought…not even when you see those tiny little cocktail weenies being served at an office party.

 

10.  Read every single Something She Dated post all the way from the beginning.  I’m telling you…nothing says ‘your troubles ain’t so bad’ like reading about the time I dated a garbage man and he tried to talk about meat while we were making out.  Or that time I made out with a Trucker.  Who then had sore balls.  And then…well…I won’t spoil it for you.  But trust me.  I take the cake.  No seriously.  Gimme the fucking cake *points fake bank robbing gun at you* GIVE IT HERE BITCH!!!!

Online Dating Site Review: eHarmony

eHarmony

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eHarmony   

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Attractiveness of Guys  

Overall the guys are fairly decent, not mega-babes like on POF and not the bottom of the barrel like lavalife, etc.  Also, add to that, the fact that the majority of the men are highly educated and have pretty kick ass profiles and attraction goes way up!

Attention from Fellas  

This site doesn’t allow you to do your own searching.  That being said, it’s been an entire week and then send me approximately 7 matches a day.  I’ve been keeping really open-minded and not closing communication with anyone they said me, and still, I’ve yet to have any “dater” initiated contact from ANYONE.  My best guess?  Though they may be matching me personality-wise with these men, I’m thinking the part where one specifies body-type etc. is being ignored…but just a theory.

 

Quality of Responders   

What responders???

Coolness of Site 

If I was actually getting some love on this site, I would think it was pretty cool.  They match you (aka no work for me), communication is guided (when making first communication you send them 5 questions that you’ve selected out of a possible 20 or so), the personality size-up they give you is actually pretty interesting (truth be told I’ll be saving a copy so that when I discontinue I will have it just for interest sake, it’s pretty accurate and neat).  Plus the profile is guided so again, though you still need effort to fill stuff in, at least it helps you with what to write.

 

Overall Satisfaction 

This website sucked cost/benefit analysis wise.  It was $60 for the first month (uber-high because I wasn’t willing to sign up for a package which is good because I’ve already discontinued the automatic renew, after the month I’m done).  This website might not have sucked so much if  A. It was so expensive and B. I was actually getting some dates out of it.  Part of why I’m giving this blog review is because of this site.  After I had signed up (read: paid the moola) that’s when I came across all the reviews for eharmony saying it was total crap etc.etc.etc. if only I had read it before, so here’s me, hoping to save someone else the 60 bucks.

Do Nice Guys Finish Last?

Nice guys finish last

Do Nice Guys Really Finish Last?

The logic behind the claim  Nice guys finish last  is so flawed I hardly know where to start (but start, I will).

First off, who are these nice guys who are claiming to finish last?  How are they defining last?  As a matter of fact, how are they defining nice?  And who are they, to claim for themselves this relative qualifier?  The balls on these dudes…ugh.

And those are just the questions I have about definitions and test subjects, we’re not even talking about the actual testing scenario. I mean, not to get all correlational/causational on you but let’s be real here for a minute.  Are these alleged nice guys trying to say that they are so one-factored in their life that there are no other possible reasons for why they may or may not finish last, depending of course on how we define last as mentioned above?

Supposing for a second that we’ve all agreed upon what defines being nice and supposing further than that we find a guy who fits this definition.  He goes on a date, and pays like a gentleman, there is chatter and all things seem to go well.  There’s a short kiss, the date ends and all feels right in the world.  The next day our test subject calls his date and proposes a second adventure.  She is not  interested.  He self-soothes with a mantra of nice guys finish last, nice guys finish last, nice guys *sob* finish last.  He tells all his friends that she was a money grubbing whore only using him for a free dinner.  He considers no other possibilities.  And therein lies the rub.

He’s not such a nice guy.  At least not in my opinion.  Besides the obvious trashing of the girls reputation, the more core issue is the fact that it doesn’t even enter into his consciousness that he might be to blame.  Or at fault (though I prefer to think of it as just people who didn’t mesh) but if dude’s are going to play the blame card, I’m going to deal it out to them.  And like I’ve said over and over again, if you have to say it…you aren’t it.  If you have to tell people you’re funny, you’re not.  If you have to tell people you’re smart, you’re not.  If you have to tell people you’re nice, you’re not.  What you are…is oblivious.  Every dude thinks he’s a nice guy, a super swell fella and the truth is the truth is to be honest, though in varying degrees, admittedly, I’m telling you right now, fellas, you are not.  Now I’m not saying you’re all assholes, not even close.  What I am saying, is that people are flawed, it’s in our nature, and so blanketing your dating woes, or even your life woes, with the fluffy but I’m such a nice guy defense is really not going to get you anywhere.

That being said.  Even if you are, that super amazingly nice guy who never says a harsh word, never has a derogatory comment and just wants everyone to be happy and spends a great deal of his time trying to make life that way.  And even if I can pretend for a minute that you’re not a dick for the crime detailed above of thinking you’re soooo amazing that the problem has to be someone else.  I have to ask, a very serious and vital question:  Who told you that being nice was enough?  Would you want to spend the next 40 years with someone who’s only redeeming quality was that they were nice?  I don’t need a seat on the bus, I need fun.  Okay, that’s a lie…I want both.  I’m greedy like that.  And so are most boys really.

I mean, girls aren’t allowed to be enough…just by being nice.  Seriously.

When was the last time a dude got hard for nice?

When was the last time a dude got hard for nice?  Girls have to be fit, healthy and adventurous…but ya know…all the while maintaining a kind of fresh faced makeup-less beauty that allows for no faults of DNA.  Boys want witty conversation, and upbeat personalities, smart opinions but polite decorum.  They want the Princess without the baggage, the President without the power-trip and the Pornstar without the career…they want the pussy without the problems.

And It boggles the mind.  My mind is boggled.  That I hear it all the time.  This complaint that I have absolutely no sympathy for.  Nice guys finish last.  I couldn’t possibly care less for the plight of the nice guy.  Because in a world that asks women to be exceptional…why on earth do men think being nice is enough.  How is that even possible?!?!

And just so we’re clear, I’m not opposed to people being extraordinary.  I whole-heartedly encourage it.  I think women should try to be all those things listed above and more (except the makeup-less one because a person has no hand in the DNA they were dealt and screw you for judging her/us/them like that).

Personally, I’m nowhere near, but always striving, to be the most awesome version of me that I can be.  And to be honest, I want the same to be true of others.  I fear, much of the world isn’t with me on this one though.  I fear that a great deal of the population is totally all right with just getting by and being entirely average.  Which I guess is fine, you can’t control people and all that jazz.  But that doesn’t mean I’m going to start dating a guy who defines himself as nice.  full stop.

I wouldn’t buy a one dimensional house or want to live in a one dimensional world, so why would I want to date a one dimensional person?

 

Vancouver Dating Blog:  Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time

The Bird Seed Theory, or Why He Keeps Contacting You

Bird Seed Theory

Something She Said

Stories about sex and dating, screenshots of sexist online dating messages, murder jokes, elaborately long fruit puns–you never quite know what you’re going to get.

Every so often I come to a realization about dating.  An answer to a dating question that feels so long fought for and so hard-battle-done-by that it’s like solving the Riddle of the Sphinx.  Like figuring out what the hell happened to Amelia Earhart.  Like I just destroyed the ring in the fires of Mount Doom.  Like I just solved world hunger.  Like I just figured out where in the world is fucking Carmen San Diego, coherently explained the Matrix, and made cold fusion easily accessible and replicable to the general public.  It’s like I know, like seriously fucking know, exactly how many licks it takes to get to the centre of a Tootsie-Pop.

And it’s finally happened.  I know a thing, about dating, like fucking know it, and thus I give to you:

 

The Bird Seed Theory (or, why he keeps contacting you).

 

Here’s the thing: dating is all about effort.  And the fundamental difference in how men and women view effort is the leading cause of dating frustration.  Okay so I kind of made that bit up…the “leading cause” bit…but bear with me and you might start to agree.  See, if you were to ask most women what is the worst part about dating?  I would hedge my bets that they would say “it’s the uncertainty”.  Sure, rejection hurts and uncomfortable moments suck and after awhile everybody gets frustrated and wants to call it a day, but the worst THE WORST part about dating is the uncertainty.  the waiting.  the fade.  and then the come back charlieness of it all.

I don’t really know how it came to me (that’s a lie, I know exactly how it came to me…so let me just tell you).  Driving home from UBC, the day I moved out of residence back at the end of April 2010, I was talking to my brother (who had so graciously helped me move), about The Nick Name and how I just couldn’t figure out what his fucking deal was and why he kept in contact with me when he obviously didn’t like me so much that he like had to fucking have me.  And just like that, it all came together for me. GENIUS!!!  Sort of like He’s Just Not That Into You…Version 2.0…The Bird Seed Theory.

You see, women are very selective about the effort they put into men and dating.  For those who love a good analogy like I do –> We throw thick chunks of bread at select ducks.  Only the ones we really like.  The ones we see a potential with.  The ones who make us swoon.    Or that can dick us down just right (don’t get it wrong…it’s not always about mush and heart)…but the point is we only throw bread when its worth our while.  Effort is precious and we don’t like to waste.

Guys throw bird seed  *makes bird seed throwing gesture*.  Guys throw bird seed constantly…all the time…every moment…of every day…every heart beat…throwing fucking bird seed…not caring who it lands on.  Now this isn’t to say that boys will date or bang all the ducks they throw seed at.  That’s not the point.  The point is to have the option. Boys are always on the prowl, always having things in the mix.  It’s like it’s in their DNA or something.

And I know what you’re thinking…doesn’t that negate the theory of effort?  And the answer is NO.  Quite the opposite.  Because in fact, men don’t see throwing the seed as effort.  Because it’s all in the name of sex (or whatever motivates them, ego, adrenaline, etc.).  And while we (women) are only keeping the options open with those boys we want right now, boys are inherently thinking…more…possibility…later.

So here’s your real-world-tangible-practical-jesus-I-wish-we’d-known-this-earlier-so-much-wasted-time-lesson.

The next time Come Back Charlie sends text message…a FB wall post…a special Tweet…a phonecall…whatever….that leaves you thinking wow.  He misses me.  He’s thinking about me.  He made a mistake in how he treated me before.  He didn’t mean it when he pulled the fade on me.  He didn’t mean it those other 2 times he bailed on plans.  He thinks I’m special really fucking special.

He Doesn’t.

but but but.  No!  He really really fucking doesn’t.

Sure it’s quite possible he cares about you in the same sense that I generally hope people in the world are happy and leading joyful lives and all that.  But to be totally honest, he doesn’t give a shit about you.  Nothing has changed.  I promise.  He is NOT the exception.  You are NOT the exception.  Maybe he enjoys your conversation, maybe he thinks you’re hot and would be cool with a bang (pending that it fit his schedule, pending that some other chick he has been throwing bird seed at and that he wanted more wasn’t available) but honestly, it doesn’t matter.  Whatever his circumstances or reasons are…this dude is not interested in you enough for you to give him the time of day.  Even a proper booty call knows how to be blunt, honest and respect your time.  A dude throwing bird seed has no concern for your time.  Because while throwing bread at him is exacting effort on your part…you’re just another duck on his row to throw some seed up.  *seed throwing gestures*

And to make sure you all listen.  And really know that this isn’t just something I’m saying but can’t back up with actual facts.  I give you both Garbage Man and The Nick Name.  Both these dudes were done with me by the 2nd date (possibly even before).  And after that 2nd date…they kept in contact.  For months.  Like seriously fucking months.  The Nick Name actually kept in contact for years!! though I never saw him again after that 2nd date.  And while in my mind I cannot fathom exerting that much effort to stay in contact with someone you had no real interest in hanging out with again…for them I imagine I was just one in a ton of other chicks.  Or one in a ton of other hobbies.  Or one in a ton of whatever-the-fuck-they-do-with-their-time.  But while I assumed the continued contact was a reflection on the good so-so satisfactory meh times we had spent together and the connection we had.  I was wrong.  So so fucking wrong.  They were just throwing bird seed.  And I was just a duck running around with my head cut off.  Does that analogy work?  I think so.  You get the idea anyway.

So the next time a dude who isn’t treating you like you think he should.  Or a dude that ditched you comes back with a less than grand gesture.  Or really you just have an inkling that you’re doing all the work.  STOP THROWING BREAD at his bird seed throwing ass and find yourself another pond to go loiter at.  Because this one is not good for you.

Vancouver Dating Blog:  Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time

Women Will Change this World: Malala Yousafzai

Texts from Dad

 

[dropcap]Malala Yousafzai[/dropcap]

A 16 year old girl from Pakistan, wants the same things I do, education for everyone.  On Friday July 12, 2013, she stood up in front of the UN and gave a rousing speech calling on the UN to provide “free” and “compulsory education” for all.

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Malala is an incredibly mature, bright, and eloquent young woman.  In 2009, when Malala was in the seventh grade, she began blogging for BBC Urdu online.  The blog, “Diary of a Pakastani Schoolgirl” was in response to the Taliban extremist regime’s banning of public education for girls and destruction of over 150 schools (currently near 600 schools).

The idea that anyone would want to keep their daughters from learning more is a thing I can barely comprehend.  Is there any other reason to have children than to give them the world?  Is not the point to love a being more than yourself, to do everything in your power to make sure that little babe feels the most loved, the most nurtured, the most supported, so that he or she can then go on and do all the things that this world needs to be a better place?

So, why then, are women being denied access to education?  Why is THIS our world?  There is no protection greater, no support more tightly knit, no chance for success more real and tangible, than being fully informed and equipped to deal with all that the world will throw your way.  Education is the answer, always.

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I grew up in British Columbia, in what I would consider an upper middle class household.  Education was not only something that I always had access to, but something that was assumed.  No one, but myself, ever seemed to doubt my potential for success.  In grade seven, my teacher caught me not paying attention in class.  He asked me what I was doing, to which I responded that I was writing a story for a competition.  Instead of reprimanding me for my lack of studiousness, he set up a table and chair in the hallway, for me to write until I was finished.  In highschool, I suffered a great deal with depression and often missed classes.  My marks never really suffered though because teachers would allow me to do the work on my own, chance having supplied me with a brain for which this was easily doable.  No one ever seemed to doubt my potential or abilities.  When it was time to apply for early admission to University, I simply did.  There was never even a thought in my brain that I wouldn’t get at least a Bachelor’s degree.  Now in 2013, I write this blog post in the summer between my 1st and 2nd year of a Master of Arts program, having already earned two separate Bachelor’s degrees (one in Psychology and one in English Literature).  The world is and has always been my oyster and it is for that reason that I believe so strongly in the education of women.  It breaks my heart to know that other women don’t have the encouragement, support, access, and freedom that I always did (and this is probably why I have the luxury and desire to dedicate my life to these ends).

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Now, back to Malala and the education of women.  This brave young girl has none of the advantages I have in life (except maybe a father who thinks she can change the world) and yet here she is, asking the UN to repair the cracks that women are falling through.  She was shot by a member of the taliban and survived (though her life still remains under threat).  She stood up in front of the world and asked for change.  I want to be a part of the change that answers her back.

However, this brings up a question I often struggle with.  When it comes to the tangible aspect of changing the world, the How, the What, the Who, I find myself overwhelmed.  How do I know if a charity is trustworthy?  How do I make the biggest impact?  In a world of billions struggling, where do I start?

My Dad recently sent me an email After you graduate we can go somewhere and help build a habitat for humanity and it got me thinking.  What are the most imminent threats to female education?  Extremism?  Access to clean water?  Housing?  Birth Control?  Feminine Hygiene products?  Literal access to education (you can’t go to school if there is no school to go to)?

I don’t yet have any answers.  But I hope too.  Soon.  Until then, think about Malala, think about the education of women, think about how we’re going to change this world…for the better (and feel free to share those thoughts with me 😉

 

[colored_box color=”blue”]Are you a woman changing this world for the better?  Do you know a woman who should be celebrated for her great work?  Do you know a woman who will change this world?  We’re looking to spotlight the amazing goals and accomplishments of women around the world – big or small, greatness comes in all packages.  Email us with your tip or story:  SomethingSheSaidOnce [at] gmail.com [/colored_box]