Boy Party Snack Bowl: Picking Through The Mix


[dropcap]S[/dropcap]o one week ago today I had four boys in the mix.  It blows my mind a bit how much things can change in a week.  In a good way.  Mostly because that means that there’s a chance I’ve learned something from the whole Garbage Man debacle which is this:

Don’t slow down for the lollygaggers.  Hey self?  Need me to repeat that?  Do Not Slow Down For The Lollygaggers.  Write that down.  Pocket it.  Carry it with your amazing ass all day long.  No need to settle (for something that brings no enjoyment).

But things have changed.  Dating things.  Life things.  Additions to the “Somethings”.  Things are looking up.  Okay well technically things have been UP for awhile but I thought that sounded cute and fit with the theme.

I digress.  ROLLCALL!!! (note military theme…hint hint…just sayin’).

(Note:  Most of these guys don’t show up again so there’s no tag or category to find their story except for in this post)

Slow (and Steady?).  DONE. His messages had a decidedly just answering never asking feel and so I just stopped replying.

The Divorcée.   DONE. After the phonecall fiasco he messaged this. oh and 2 days later no less. Hello SSD, I took an unexpected phone call and it has taken me up to now to get everything sorted. I greatly apologize for the inconvenience. So please don’t take what happened the other day the wrong way. Um…wow…super issues…super lame…super retarded…super not interested. *hangs up phone goes outside and plays in the summer sunshine.

Normal Guy.  PROGRESSING.  He`s got the digits.  Let`s see if he`ll step the game up and make plans.

Intelligence Officer.  ENJOYED.  Alas I have saved the best for last.  And before all you romantics out there get your hearts in a tizzy on my behalf.  It’s not that kind of best.  Things have happened in the last week that have changed me.  That have changed the game of dating (for me).  Vital.  Important.  Progressive.  “Things” have happened.  And it`s fucking awesome!  But let`s back this story up just a smidge so you can be along with me for the rollercoaster of awesomeness that was this experience.  So last thursday it was just everyday-type chatter with Intelligence Officer.  Until.  Night.  So there I was frantically casually icing a cake for a dear friend`s birthday when I get a text.

What are you doing?
Icing a cake for a friend’s birthday party tomorrow night?

(funny sidebar: At the time I think he’s asking where the party is…as in he might be in town and thus…well…something…but turns out he’s asking where I’m at right now because he’s in town right now)
Oh, lol well how would I know?
I just figured you’d hear me breathing. (and the point goes to…witty repartee)

We banter casually for awhile. And then. Things take a turn. Now, here’s the thing of the thing. I don’t do “sexting” (fuck I even just hate saying the word.) I don’t do phone sex. I don’t do skype whatever. The reason isn’t anything profound (like I once read on so and so’s blog) it’s mostly selfish. I don’t enjoy it. I’ve tried. It was mostly boring. I was doing it for the other person. I cared that they were enjoying it. So I faked it.

But here’s the real thing of the thing. It started because we were clever and sexy with each other. It continued because not only did he say all the things I wanted to hear (read) but it became this thing where I let myself loose. Said what I wanted to and meant it. No timidity. No shyness. Nothing to lose so why not? And 4 hours later. pause. Yeah I’m just going to give you a little time to digest that.

4 hours later. I had just had the MOST exciting, illicit, impressive, titillating and needless to say HOT! faux-sex experience of my entire life. During these 4 hours of hotness there was the occasional break for logistics. As in I won’t date someone who lives 2 hours from me (after Mega Love I swore I’d never do even medium let alone long distance again). We can’t have “fun” at my house. Simple. No explanation will be given. He’s got 5 more days at his place in Kits (area of Vancouver for non-locals). Then he’ll be in Squamish living full-time (though he’ll still be working mostly in Vancouver…what people will do to live somewhere beautiful lol!). Problem. In Squamish he has one guy roomie (no sweat) and one ex as a roommate (deets to come) but at the time I find this insane not to mention detrimental as obviously wouldn’t bode well for…well…fun…noisy fun. What are we to do? He’s certain we’ll figure it out.

The sexy-witty-banter-hot-faux-sex(ting) continues for the next 3 days. It’s so extensive that I have to scan through my ghetto phone that only holds 150 messages in the inbox and selectively delete (obviously keeping the good stuff as it’s like porn lol!). I have to do this numerous times. I would not be shocked if the grand total of texting totalled 400 messages each within a 6 day period. We make plans to hang out wednesday. He’ll be in town for work till 8. I have a ball game but we might be able to hang out afterwards.

Then on Monday it happens. Screech! I slam the brakes. I have at no point conveyed (to him) that it would be a possibility for us to date. I haven’t expressed any desire for anything committed, long-term or even relationship-esque. And yet. True to boy form. He spouts some bullshit he barely notices yet flips me off.

Randomly during a text conversation he decides to mention that he’s not looking for anything long-term or committed. WTF? Um…I didn’t know that booty calls could even BE long-term or committed. I say. He clearly misses my rage. I’m only here for sex he says don’t get too attached. Seriously? Dude! You’re ruining it!

I spend the rest of the day royally pissed that someone could fuck up such a silver platter situation. I mean fuck!!! I ponder if there’s anyway that he can come back from this. I decide there isn’t. I was wrong.

Tuesday comes and I manage to casually convey I’m pissed and well…He’s completely stumped and confused. Appears to not have a fucking clue of what’s changed. So he calls. I don’t answer. He texts. I can’t apologize if I don’t know what I did wrong. True. I call back. We talk. Things get sorted. Not worth going into it but though he is true to form a guy…he makes up for his faux pas and things continue their trajectory. I like his voice. He texts. You’re voice is soooo sexy (dirty talk dirty talk). I swoon (lustily not emotionally). I’m incredibly self-concious of my voice. I’ve always felt it was very deep. Apparently it’s hot. Yay me. Looks like we’re still on for Wednesday.

to be continued…


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

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Victoria Young

Writer. Dater. Masturbator. Stop ruining my jokes by believing the self-deprecation. I am far greater than your boner will ever know.