What I’d Give For a Discussion

How to have a conversation

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]ell me you hate dating.  That you’re frustrated.  At the end of your rope.  And you bore me to tears.  But tell me why.  Explain yourself.  Open up.  Form an opinion.  Share a viewpoint.  And you’ve got my attention.

What I’d give for a discussion.  To run into someone who just doesn’t know.  But wants to think about it.  Talk about it.  Uncertainty is sexy because it shows an openness to both sides.  To possibilities.  To opportunities.  To a conversation about life.  It shows you have a fucking idea in your head.  And I’m just sayin’.  I mean.  I’m telling you.  My idea.  Your idea.  Let’s see what’s what.

I want to talk to the guy who’s not sure if he wants to ever get married.  The guy who considers not contributing to the overpopulation of our world — even if it means never getting to experience the making of a human life.  Which is a definite sacrifice.  But a guy who considers that.  Sacrificing.  That’s worth a conversation.

And sure that sounds scary but so does settling for a life less than you want — less than you deserve.  And he doesn’t need to be sure.  I’m sure as fuck not.  In fact I wouldn’t want him to be.  But I can’t be the only person in the world who’s not totally sold on the idea of it all.  One person.  Forever.  (or not, but at least wanting it to last forever).  And not to discount those who jumped and fell — but I don’t mean the person who tried marriage and is now angry and broken and changed their mind.  I just mean the guy who is whole.  Complete.  Fantastic.  And just wants to talk about life and options.

What I’d give for a fucking conversation.

I want to talk about legitimate fears.  Want to talk about weighing notions of happiness and independence.  Want to know what he thinks.  Want an opinion.  Want a perspective.  Want someone to tell me it’s okay to be scared.  That risks are worth it.  That I’ll find an answer in my heart.  Hold my future in the palm of my hand.

Want him to tell me nothing is ever too late and all I can do is live and cherish all I have at the very exact moment that I have it.

This.  Very.  Moment.
Here.  Now.

Want him to tell me I’d be a good mother.  Protect my cubs over everything.  Show them the world.  Teach them all I know.  Pass down none of what was once so broken in me for so long.  Encourage.  Love.  Teach. Support.  Like my parents have done for me.  Want him to say there are ways to stave off boredom.  That limitless love doesn’t have to limit me.  That there’s a boy out there who will make all the worries bearable.  Because I’ll want to be nuts for him (fix links).  I will be retarded for him.  Want to talk about the possibilities.  The open road of our lives.  Together.  Separate.  The potential.  Always loved.

What I’d give for a discussion.  Talk about what life might be like if we chose a certain path.  A distinct life.  Want someone who wants the conversation like I do.  Just because we don’t have to decide now doesn’t me we can’t talk about it.  What I’d give for a discussion.


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

Dear Boys, What Are You Wearing?

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.

What are you wearing?  That’s what the message says.  What are you wearing?  That’s what all the messages say, from all the boys, at some time or another, and I haven’t a fucking clue how to respond.  Hell, I’m not even entirely sure it’s a question.  I’m stumped.

 What do you want from me?!?!?!?


When you ask this thing what are you wearing?; when you say these words what are you wearing?; when your message appears across my screen what are you wearing?:  I mean, am I supposed to tell you the literal truth?  Because here’s the thing of the thing.  When you and I are together, when we’re at the stage that I’m ready for you to see the skivvies, oh yeah, I’m wearing the Red Lacies.  The sexy boy shorts.  This illicit thing.  For sure.  But when I’m at home, alone, away from you.  You can be damn sure that I’m wearing my adorable jogging pants.  No they’re not tight, they’re just normal, don’t make this weird.  They’re regular soft and stretchy comfy pants.  So no, I’m not wearing that sexy lingerie you’re dreaming of.  And no, I’m not sauntering around naked.  Don’t be an idiot.  I have shit to do.  Like cooking bacon that splatters.  Or jazzercising in front of open windows.  And that stuff can’t be done naked.    Obvs.

But I mean I get it.  I’m a writer, after all, I can be creative.  I can amp it up for you.  But is that what you want?  Is that really what you’re asking me?  Do you want me to create some verbal fantasy that I think you’ll think is sexy?  Or are you aiming for a realistic picture of how adorable hot I look in real life, at that very moment?  Or is there a third (and forth) possibility?  Are you hoping this will lead to sexting or phone sex?  Or even more hopeful, is this your way of testing the waters of booty call lake, to see if I’m interested in getting wet, in having a quick dip?  I honestly don’t know what your deal is, boys, and thus, here is my plea:

Dear boys,

My dear sweet boys.  What is it exactly that you want from me?  The reality of it all?  Or do you want the smoke and mirrors and pay no attention to that man behind the curtain?  Do you want to be able to picture me in the very way that I am, at that very moment that you message me?  Or is your aim the sugar and sexy spice that comes standard on our date nights?  Are you trying to get into my skivvies?  Is this the time for fantastical fictional narratives?  Honestly, tell me boys, seriously, what the fuck do you want from me when you type those confusing words–What are you wearing?

Yours Truly,

Judgey Wudgey

aka Something She Dated
aka Your favorite jogging pants sexter
aka That girl at the coffee shop
aka flip that bacon girl it’s burning
aka Dating Vancouver a better place one “something” at a time

Dear Boys, Show It, Don’t Say It

How to Write a Dating Profile

Maybe it’s a writer thing, like how it’s been drilled into me that you should always show it rather than tell it. For example:

Sentence 1:  Debbie was a downer.  This made me upset.

Sentence 2:  Debbie sucked the air out of my balloons.  Every attempt at an adventure with her left me limp and lifeless like a discarded toy at a child’s birthday party.  Stepped on.  Broken.  Crushed.  Pathetic.  Debbie’s invitation to my life would have to be rescinded.  And immediately.


So when I get a message from a boy saying how “talented” he is.  I have to ask.  Really?  I mean really?!?  Because I doubt it.  I mean I really doubt it.  Because I’ve always held strongly to the notion that:

“If you have to say it.  You aren’t it.” – SSDated

And it made me think.  Here was this admittedly hot boy telling me that he wanted me and crediting himself with some sort of abstract sexual talent yet to be determined.  And I couldn’t have been less interested.  So what was the problem?

The problem.  Is that I’m 29.  And I know better.  I don’t believe his selling point.  I know he’s likely not talented.  Because anyone who knows anything about sex, knows that each chick(person) is different.  So the only talent that he could even potentially be referring to would have to be an ability to explore, perceive, and remember.  

So I made a judgement call.  And albeit it was a judgey-wudgey-was-a-bear judge-a-book-by-its-retarded-one-liner type call.  But I’m betting it was pretty accurate.  This guy was not perceptive.  The fact that he, having read my heavy-with-humor-profile, thought a direct sexual approach was the way to go, was clue number 1.  He asked no questions, made no attempt to get to know me and thus we have clue #2, not an explorer.  And though I can’t speak to his memory with certainty.  I’m guessing he remembers the fake moans of all the lovely ladies before as a lot louder and more passionate than reality showcased them to be.  Just Sayin’.

So dear boys, my dear dear boys.  I’m begging you.  Show it, don’t say it.  Because it’s not genuine.  It’s not believable.  And your misguided attempt at confidence will not fool us.  Okay that’s an assumption.  So I’ll just say this.  It’s not fooling me.

Yours Truly,

Judgey Wudgey
aka Something She Dated
aka Your boys favorite editor
aka That girl at the coffee shop writing on her laptop
aka Helping boys get laid one quality attempt at a time
aka Dating Vancouver a better place one “something” at a time

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

Dear Boys, Why I Never Pay on First Dates


[dropcap]D[/dropcap]ear Boys,

The thing is.  Paying.  Like dating.  Like life.  Is all about balance.  But I don’t pick up the tab on first dates.  Let me say that again.  I.  Don’t.  Pick.  Up.  The.  Tab.  On.  First.  Dates.  Or 3rd dates.  Or possibly even 8th dates.  Now this isn’t to say I don’t “pay” in other ways.  You see.  It takes a lot, boys, to maintain the standard that I like to offer and that I’m guessing you like to receive on that first date.  And the dates that follow.  Now don’t misunderstand me boys, because I’m not complaining.  I like to look awesome for you.  I like to look awesome for me.  But I’m still not paying for the first date.

See the thing is.  By the time you see me.  By the time we’re actually on that first date together.  I’ve already spent a ton.  And because I wouldn’t want you to just have to take my word for it.  Here’s a little tally sheet.  A little accountant’s ledger.  A little “I did” list, if you will:

Pedicure               $30-70 (tip incl)
Brow tint              $12
Brow wax            $15
Lady bit wax        $65
Teeth Whitening   $20/mth
Make Up             $400-$1200/year
Hair products       $30/mth
Hair straightener   $120
Hair cut                $120/3x year
New clothes         $40 (new shirt) – $400 (new outfit)
New undies          $10-100
Therapy                (joke)

Now this is just a ball park estimate.  A quick run down.  Of just a few things it takes to look so good for you.  And before you get all up in arms, boys, about how you get haircuts too and sometimes you even use some gel in your hair.  Sure.  I concur.  You get haircuts too.  At the barber.  For $20.  And that $4 bottle of gel.  I get it.  That really sets you back.  But that is nothing by comparison to the 8 products it takes to tame this curly mane (yet keep it soft and supple for your touching enjoyment) or on days I straighten it, the $50 salon-purchased-heat-protecting-leave-in-conditioning-must-be-made-of-gold-for-that-price product).  So I’m just sayin’.  We’re not even close.  You’re sitting on the bench at a little league game having had to pay $3 for a soda.  And I’m stuck with the bill for box seats at a Canucks game during the 7th game of the playoffs.

So with that being said.  I think.  I THINK.  That you can pay for my fucking Starbucks latte.  Or on even cheaper days.  My diet coke.  You got this.  That’s what you should say.  I got this.  And I mean obviously.  Don’t even wait for the awkward moment of who might pay.  Because I’ll tell you.  My dreamboat.  My unicorn.  My Aaron Karo.  He’s not waiting.  He’s got balls.  He knows what’s up.  On date 2 when dinner seems reasonable.  We’ve ordered.  At some point he’s gotten up (presumably to go to the bathroom).  He gives the waitress with his credit card.  To pay the bill when we’re done.  So it’ll never even be brought to the table.  No awkward moment.  My unicorn.  *sigh*  And it’s not even about the money.  It’s the fucking forethought.  Don’t buy me flowers.  Just protect me from uncomfortable moments.  That’s lusty.

And that right there is really the second reason.  The first is because it’s your turn to balance the expenditures. The second is to look like a man.  An Aaron Karo kind of man.  The kind of man that knows/says this:

“When the check comes, there should be absolutely no debate: I’m paying.  Ladies, any guy who doesn’t pay for you is fucking worthless.  Any guy who offers to split the check should hand in his man badge and have his testicles confiscated at the door: he’s done.” – Aaron Karo excerpt from I’m Having More Fun Than You available through amazon.com.

And on a personal note.  I reiterate.  Boys.  I don’t even drink (anymore).  So really.  Come the fuck on.  My kisses.  My time.  Well worth a fucking $6 coffee.  In fact.  You just go ahead and get me a gift card to Starbucks while we’re up there at the register.  And maybe an oat fudge bar.  And throw in a french press too.  Just Sayin’.  I’m worth it.

Yours Truly,

Judgey Wudgey

aka Something She Dated
aka Your boys favorite accountant
aka That girl at the bank two tellers over
aka Giving boys back their balls one dating faux pas elimination at a time
aka Dating Vancouver a better place one “something” at a time

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

He’s a Cheater and You’re an Idiot (But You Don’t Have to Be)

Head Desk


[dropcap]I get it.[/dropcap]  You catch your man online dating.  You don’t want to jump to conclusions.  You don’t want to feel sad about your shitty relationship and impending break up.  Mostly, I’m guessing, you just don’t want to be alone.  But seriously, ladies, step your game up, step your self-esteem up, step your common sense up.  And quit being fucking ridiculous.

So there I was on plentyoffish.com just minding my own business.  Checking out profiles.  When I get a message.  I mean top of the line piece of lusty literature, witty and intriguing, a real gem.  Hold onto your panties ladies.  It’s about to get wild.  The message reads:

How are you?

I should’ve probably started this post by mentioning that things “online” are slow.  Let me rephrase that.  Things online are hideous and boring.  Essentially, it has become apparent that while swimming in the seas where supposedly plenty of fish are lurking, I only attract the bottom feeders.  Awesome.  Which is what allows me to be open to the fact that this guy is cute.  Not drool on my keyboard cute, but by no means avert my eyes and delete cute.  So I give him the benefit of the doubt.  Maybe he’s just not feeling creative.  Maybe he’s just a slow starter.  Maybe he’ll pick it up a bit.

Hey 🙂 Thanks for the message…I’m doing great.  How’s your day going?

And then total silence.  I didn’t really notice at the time because I was being bombarded with messages.  Sure, yes,   bottom feeders, with the occasional poisonous puffer fish, and a shark once in a while, but generally speaking – bottom feeders.  However, a week later when I see his face appear in my messages again.  I think.  Hmm…I’ve seen him before.  Did I delete him?  Did we talk?  So I click the “view all correspondence” button.  And see the meager history.  He messaged.  I responded.  He appears to have forgotten.  And yet.  Here he is again.  Launching those lovely love letters in my direction.  The message reads:

Hey wat up?

I mean swoon right?  But like I said, times are dumb and ugly, and I’m bored.  And frankly, because I’ve got nothing invested, there’s nothing to lose.  So I message back, but I kick it up a notch.  I can’t be talking to boring people.  So either he’ll hit me back with info that’ll lead to conversation or he’ll be boring again and then I’ll know, and stop responding.

Hey 🙂 Not much…just getting ready for school tomorrow…How was your weekend? Get up to any Halloween fun?

And this time I get a response.  Almost immediate.  I mean barely enough to type all the words kind of immediate.  Only the response isn’t from…well…see for yourself.

this is Mike’s girlfriend. Yes he has a girlfriend, so please don’t bother writing him again. I can’t believe he actually turned out to be one of these guys….and there are far too many guys with girlfriends on these websites, I once went out with one of them myself. Not good! My advice to you, go out instead of going online, it’s a harder search for a guy, but you have a better chance of finding someone decent!

Hmm…I’m going to have to stop you right there Mike’s Girlfriend.  Because your science, your logic, is off the charts stupid.  Online dating and cheating?  I’m not sure there’s even a correlational relationship between the two let alone a causational one.  Though if you can show me some data I’ll more than happily change my tune.  And for reference I mean data that proves this same relationship between dating and cheating in the conventional manner doesn’t exist as well.

Next problem?  Why can’t you believe he turned out to be one of “those guys”?  And I’m assuming “those guys” means cheaters.  Because here’s the thing, Mike’s Girlfriend.  I doubt your surprise.  Nobody even thinks to check to see if their boyfriend has a POF account, who doesn’t already have an inkling that he’s (thinking about, in the process of, already has) cheating/ed.  Plus anybody who feels the need to message someone talking to said boyfriend on POF, likely assumes even if he shuts his profile down it’ll pop right back up again.  It’s almost as if this has happened before…hmmm?  Thoughts?  Finally, Mike’s girlfriend, giving advice?  Really?  Really?  Do you really think you’re in a position to be offering up said advice, given that your relationship is in shambles?  And if I’m being honest, you wouldn’t be suggesting I stop talking to Mike if you were planning to dump his cheating ass so I can only assume you plan to forgive him at which point any possible chance you had for being a source of worthwhile advice goes right out the window.

Not one to ignore a teachable moment, I respond.

Not to be mean or anything but do you really think you’re in a good position to be offering advice?  I mean, I’m sorry your guy is a dick but my advice to you would be…break up with him and don’t sweat it as he obviously isn’t a great guy for you (or anyone)…keep your head up and don’t be bitter (or offer unwarranted advice that makes you seem bitter)…and carry on your merry way with a good life.

I assume this will be the end of it.  Actually I don’t, I expect some sort of childish rant, but I just couldn’t help myself, I had to say my peace.  And just as I’m about to hit block, as to avoid being baited into an ongoing conversation with this sad dumb chick.  I get another message:

Yeah, whether or not I actually found someone decent is now questionable 🙁

I metaphorically slap her, in my mind, grab her by the shoulders and shake.  For the love of a pretend being you fucking tool?!?!?  How did you let this become your life?!?!  What on earth are you doing?!?!  But that seems harsh.  So I simply respond, as kindly as I can and hope she absorbs at least some of my advice.

Questionable?? Oh honey. There is no question here about whether or not he’s decent.  He’s checking out online dating sites…and assuming you two are exclusive…that’s a pretty big no brainer. Plus…not to be super critical…but if you have to “hack” his account or snoop through a webpage left open or however it is you found his page…if you have to do any of that…you’re in a relationship that wasn’t working to begin with. And now obviously I don’t know your story or situation…but seriously…is there really a question here???

There was no response.  I’m hoping that Mike’s Girlfriend heeded my words, grabbed her purse, and hightailed it out of his place (which I’m assuming is where she stumbled upon this situation), and his life.  Grabbed herself a set of self-esteem and brain power and put the two together for good use.  Perhaps she even sought out some counselling (something I’m always in favor of) to deal with her numerous issues.  I expect a thank you message from her in the near future.  Maybe some flowers…

No?  You don’t think that’s what happened?  You’re probably right.  Mike probably cried, or acted like a total dick who had a right to peruse online dating sites, and said he was so so sorry.  Maybe he meant it, maybe he didn’t.  They’re back together.  It won’t end well.  Because you can’t form a healthy relationship with someone who’s emotionally broken and/or a total idiot.  Sorry Mike’s Girlfriend.  It’s never going to get any better until you get your shit together.  Which I have faith that you can do.  If you want to.

[colored_box color=”grey”]Dear Girls,
Don’t be like Mike (‘s Girlfriend).  Say no to idiocy and flawed logic.  Use reality as your guide.  Seek help when you need it.  And most importantly.  Don’t take shit from nobody.
Yours Truly,
Judgey Wudgey

aka Something She Dated
aka Dating losers so you won’t have to
aka Protecting the name of our gender
aka The science (logic) and dating police[/colored_box]


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

Dear Boys, I Want to Lick Your Brain



Dear Boys,

I want to lick your brain.  I mean not literally.  Not in like a vampiric-tales from the crypt-serial killer kind of way.  But seriously.  In a metaphorical sense.

Recent conversation goes like this:

Me:  He has a Ph.D…from Harvard
Friend:  Wow! (impressed tone)
Me:  I know right?!?! A Ph.D…from Harvard…seriously…a Ph.D…in English Literature…from motherfucking Harvard
Friend:  Wow! (still impressed tone)
Me:   Seriously.  I would definitely have an affair with him.  And not just for an A. 
Friend:  (laughs) Is he good looking?
Me:  hmm…not really…I mean he’s kind of balding a bit (though covering it up well)…and he’s not really in shape…but he is tall…and probably only about 5 years or so older than me…but I mean….HARVARD…PH.D!
Friend:  (laughs) Yeah you said that

So boys, let me be clear.  I know in the past I’ve talked a lot about Brawn.  And I’m not saying brawn is bad.  By all means.  Brawn is great.  And I’m always taking brawn over no brawn that’s for sure.  But if it’s brawn vs. brains.  No question.  Hands down.  I want to fondle your frontal lobes.  I want to get complex with your cortex.  I want you to quiz me.  I want your brain.  I mean first and foremost I want you to have one.  And then after that I want you to share it with me.  And while I’m wishing.  While I’m dreaming.  While I’m just putting it out there the thing I’d really really love.  Boys, I want you to be smarter than me.  And I don’t mean in a demeaning way or a qualifying way.  You being smarter won’t make you better.  And if you’re not, it doesn’t make me better.  It’s just that I dream of it.  I yearn for it.  Finding a “something” who is leagues smarter than me.  And while knowledge can help, it isn’t everything.  I want you to excite me and challenge me.  Prove me wrong and show me how.  Show me things I’d never considered.  I want you to be curious and eager.  Take us on an adventure.  Boys, I’m looking for one of you, that has a brain so full and voluptuous, that I want to lick it.  Run my metaphorical tongue all over it.  But don’t worry.  I won’t bite.  And I won’t eat it.  Because afterall, I’m no man-eater.  But just sayin’.  Hit the books boys, step your game up.

Yours Truly,

Judgey Wudgey

aka Something She Dated
aka Motivating the masses to higher education
aka Dating University campuses better one smarty pants at a time
aka That girl in the library two study desks over
aka Your coffee shop crush


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

Dear Boys, The Busy-Tired Scale

Uncertainty in Dating


*For reference the video is mostly just funny, only vaguely related in that it combines both online dating and a scale graph. But it’s mostly just funny and from a show we all know I love. So watch, enjoy, and then read 🙂


Busy-Tired Scale


[dropcap]D[/dropcap]ear boys,

The thing is boys.  Sometimes faking it?  Not such a bad idea.  Nobody likes Debbie Downer.  And the same thing is true.  For Beaten-Down Bobby Dean.  Maybe your job sucks.  Maybe life is kind of shit for you right now.  Or maybe you’re a workaholic and you use of work like a crutch.  But if you plan to date me, boys.  For the love of god boys, it’s time to fake it up a notch.  Sure enough.  It would be ideal that you just were actually happy.  Satisfied.  Fulfilled.  Upbeat.  Energetic.  Enthusiastic.  But if you can’t be.  If you really just can’t authentically be.  It’s time to start fuckin’ fake it.  Because the girls dating you.  Don’t give a shit.  Okay that’s not totally true.  They might.  I don’t.  Well I mean.  I do in the sense that I want everyone in the world to be ridiculously happy.  But not in the sense that it’s an acceptable excuse or reason for anything.  I don’t want complaining and bitching and moaning.  I want candy and sunshine and rainbows.  Or at least some jokes and laughter.  Just Sayin’.  Plus no lie.  I’m not your mamma.  And it’s not my job to get your life straight.  That’s yours.  And I don’t do babysitting.

And just as bad as overworked and undersatisfied?  Is the other end of the spectrum.  Like you’re just not doing anything.  Nor anything.  At all.  And sure that might be fine if you’re my booty call.  And at least have enough money for condoms and rent (hmm…and all the stuff that keeps you clean, makes you smell good, cleans your sheets, etc.etc.etc. I got standards *what?*).  But if we’re dating.  You need some passion.  Because there are going to be conversations.  Which not only require substance.  But become amazing when you start talking passionately about something.  I mean dreams.  Goals.  Plans.  Hopes.  Prospects.  Passion.  Passion.  Passion.  Interest.  Passion.  Eagerness.  That shit is sexy.  So bone up on your passion boys.

For clarity.  I’ve created a scale.  For ease of understanding this connundrum.  And boys.  You want to be a 5.  5 is middle ground.  5 is balanced.  5 is getting you laid.  And not just regular laid.  But like guy I like laid.  You know.  Extra bits.  Circus Acts.  Red lacies.  Just Sayin’.

1 – You’re almost never busy.  In fact.  What the fuck do you do all day anyway?

2 – Occasionally you’re busy.  Mostly I think playing video games or dealing pot.   Not productive.

3 – You appear to have some kind of job.  Moderate Ambition.  You’re always available to hang out.

4 – You most definitely have a job.  You love it.  You are committed to it.  You have time for friends and me.

5 – Your job demands a lot of your time.  But you’re still always full of energy.  You make the effort to contact me and still have time to regularly (1-2 times a week) hang out.  And I assume your friends.

6 – Your job is taking over your life. Your hobbies take a hit. Your friends take a hit. You still find time to keep in contact with me.  You rarely take longer than 30 min. to return a text.  Your ambition, motivation and satisfaction make up for time lost.

7- Your job is taking over your life.  Your job IS your life.  You’re still happy with your job but you find yourself rarely making a return text within my 4 hour max. window.

8 – Your job is taking over your life.  Your job no longer fills you with satisfaction and happiness.  This sentiment bleeds into all parts of your life.  Our contact is minimal.

9 – Your job fucking sucks.  Sometimes you think about going postal.  Mostly you just think about how hard life is for you.  boo hoo.  You spend weeknights and weekends depressed and lethargic instead of having sex with me.  This is a bad move on your part.

10 – You are too busy to notice anything.

So my boys.  My dear, dear boys.  I really just want the best for you.  I mean.  And my judgement isn’t static.  I don’t think if you’re one number on the scale right now.  That you’ll always be there.  But it’s up to YOU to make shit happen.  Afterall boys.  That’s what your balls are for.  Yes, no?  So boys.  Make shit happen.  And if while you’re making shit happen.  You happen to hover around 4 or 6 instead of 5.  That’s cool babe.  We’re still all good.  But start slipping too much in either direction?  And I’m throwing you out.  Garbage Man style.  Because 9s are unacceptable.  Just Sayin’.

Yours Truly,

Judgey Wudgey

aka Something She Dated
aka Graphing For More Balanced Dating
aka Concerned Citizens For Better Online Dating
aka That Girl at the Gym Two Treadmills Over
aka Your Coffee Shop Crush


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

And That’s Why You’re on PlentyOfFish.com

Dating Mistakes
[dropcap]N[/dropcap]ow not to sound too judgmental (kidding, because obviously, I’m totally judgmental.  Judgey Wudgey was a bear and all that).  But I have to tell you.  After numerous bad dates…dates that didn’t happen…bad messaging encounters…I always hear a sentence in my head…
And THAT’S why you’re on PlentyofFish.com
Now don’t get me wrong…obviously if I’m on there something’s wrong with me too (I think my thing is the weight…but I’m willing to admit it could be something else.  Oh and I also think it’s the shy thing too.  I’m chubby and shy.  And THAT’s why I’m on PlentyofFish.com).

So yeah.  Back to the dating.  And plentyoffish.com.  So so much of the time I have to suffer first.  Get my hopes up.  Think I’m going to have a great date.  Or a great conversation.  Or some amazing sex.  And then.  Then I find out.  Their “thing”.  The reason someone is on Plenty of Fish.  And sometimes it’s not a huge deal.  Sometimes it’s they’re shy.  Or just casting a wide net.  Or whatever.  But other times.  They save me the trouble.  And just show me their crazy right away.  As this guy did.  With his.  Er.  Um.  Misguided message.  **I’ll give my perspective after and yes his name and ID has been changed for his er…um…safety?**

From: RyanD444 (View Profile) (View All Correspondence)
Sent Date: 8/20/2010 12:32:27 AM
Subject: Hi

Hey hey,

Im looking for a fun, NSA play partner – someone very clean and playful! 🙂  Im looking for a submissive-type woman, ideally interested in bondage.  is this something you would be interested in? after a handful of drinks of course! 😛

Hope to hear from you,

Dear Ryan,

Hey hey hey.  So I’m just going to jump right in here.  Referring to any kind of sexual activity as play nominates you for a role on Tool Academy.  While I appreciate that you’re looking for someone “clean” I’m guessing if you have enough experience to know to ask for it…you probably aren’t it.  So go ahead and aim that dirty peenee away from my judgemental ass.  In truth the idea of being tied up and taking a submissive role is right up my alley.  Unfortunately while you may view your statements as honest and forthcoming, they come off as asking-for-trouble and serial killery.  And btw this is not helped by your suggestion that I drink aka you slip me roofies to make our ride a little less bumpy.  So listen up Ryan becase this advice is only coming at you once.  And this little tidbit is a gem.  Suggesting to a complete stranger that you would like to get them drunk, tie them up, and then dominate them before you’ve even exchanged pleasantries is akin to joking about a bomb in an airport or cheating at a final exam.  It’s just a really bad fucking idea.  No matter how much you thought otherwise.  You are wrong.  Listen to me again.  You.  Are.  Wrong.  Sometimes you really should just keep shit to yourself.  At least until I finish my latte.

Yours Truly,

Judgey Wudgey

aka Something She Dated
aka The best sex you’ll never have
aka one latte away from your tie me up scenario
aka always got one eye out for a predator


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

Dear Boys, Send Me Your Tired, Your Shirtless, Your Bathroom Photoed



[dropcap]D[/dropcap]ear Boys,

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.  I say actual words are worth 3 pictures.  And by that I mean.  If you would like a date.  With me.  A time to share some actual words.  Take a fucking picture.  Scratch that.  Take 3.  I want to see a close up face.  I want to see a full body.  And finally.  One with your friends.  To prove you have some.  I’ll accept family.  Basically just something that shows you in the moment.  Of doing something.  And puts a tally in the ☑ not a serial killer box (don’t worry kids, you have to tick several boxes before I make my final judgement).

Now some people tend to think I’m judgemental.  Very.  Judgey Wudgey was a bear and all that.  But really.  When it comes to pictures.  I’m pretty accepting.  Because this is one time.  Where quantity is much more important than quality.

So it’s a run of the mill Tuesday and you’ve got your iphone handy and you’re in the bathroom.  It’s okay buddy.  Go ahead and snap that badboy.  It’s late night.  And you’re at the computer jacking off to porn paying your overdue library fines.  Go ahead sweetie.  Take that webcam flick.  I mean.  Turn the lights on so you don’t look like a night vision freak.  And put your dick away first.  But yeah.  Go ahead and flick flick flick save.  Take that bathroom photo.  Take that shirt off photo.  Take that late night photo.  Just take some fucking photos.

And I know.  You’ve got that one good photo.  That you think really looks like you.  And looks super good.  Perhaps even more the latter than the former.  But it’s got that pesky ex-girlfriend in it.  And I’m going to give you a little tip my friend.  Because honestly boys, I want you to be successful.  I’ve got one word for you.  Crop.  Crop the shit out of that bad boy.  Because nothing says I’m a psycho and I’m scarred by emotional baggage like a white blob or black square over a person’s face.

So take some photos boys.  Take at least 3.  And post them.  Because I do.  Because nothing says bad first date like showing up and having me not recognize you.  Or worse yet.  Me having to explain to you that “I’m leaving” because “you’re a douche” “you don’t look like your photos” “this just isn’t going to work”.  Or even worse yet and most likely.  Me carrying on with an entire first date because I’m too awkward to say anything, you in turn thinking the date is going well, and while I’m repulsed – you still lean in for a first kiss.

So I say again, boys.  Send me your tired, your shirtless, your bathroom taken photos.  Because in this case.  Something really is better than nothing.  And don’t worry.  I’ll tamper my judgement accordingly.  Because while douche points get added (by some girls) for taking that lame photo…douche points get deducted (by me) for simply having an appropriate number of photos posted.  Camera’s at the ready boys!

Yours Truly,

Judgey Wudgey

aka Something She Dated
aka Your Girl of Summer
aka Concerned Citizens For Better Online Dating
aka That Girl at the Gym Two Treadmills Over
aka Your Coffee Shop Crush


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

Dear Boys, Silence Is Not Golden

Kissing in Montreal


[dropcap]D[/dropcap]ear Boys,

It’s time to step your game up.  I know when you were young all your teachers, parents, coaches and probably even Grandma that-time-you-just-wouldn’t-shut-the-fuck-up told you that Silence Was Golden.  But silence has a time and place.  And that place is not the bedroom.  And that time is not when it’s frisky business.  Silence in the bedroom is bullshit.  Stop the white noise.  And before you get all chatty cathy on me, allow me to explain.

Background.  Music.  Is.  Vital.  Let me say it again, boys.  Background music is your new best friend.  Like a boyscout you need to be prepared.  If I’m going to get a pedicure, straighten my hair, spend 45 minutes getting the perfect smokey eye happening, shave all kinds of places, and create a specifically chosen outfit for our date.  The least you can do is be ready for the possibility of sex.  And while I appreciate the optimistic 4 pack of condoms on the nightstand.  It’s time to get sharp.  Step your game up.  Get your shit together.  In the words of Aaron Karo music is important, “not only because it sets the mood but also because it muffles moans and thus discourages inhibition.”  And nobody fucking loves inhibition.  It’s no lie fellas.  If my sex is a 6/7 with the crickets, music effortlessly takes it to a 9/10.  Just sayin’.  Get yours.  And get it good.

So I’ve taken the liberty of selecting a couple of songs for you.  Now while Aaron Karo recommends Jack Johnson and John Legend, I see things a little differently.  But then again, I’m not as vanilla as I may seem.  Sure enough Jack and John won’t stop the booty short (with me) and could be perfect (with other girls), overall it wouldn’t be my first choice.  The first is a lovely selection by R.Kelly and Keri Hilson entitled Number One Sex (the original release where she plays the part of a guy, not the bullshit “vanilla” version that came out later).  This song gets a high score overall for excellent beats, sexy lyrics and sultry vocals.  Garuanteed to get you laid (by me lol!).

This second selection is more just about one thing.  The beat.  While I easily understand that not everybody likes Nelly, nor will every girl be okay with the general premise of this song, the key is to pay attention to the bass line.  Particularly starting at minute 3:45.  Listen.  Take note.  Find songs that have similar bass.

Again, this is another example of a song with an important bass line.  It’s just an instrumental track and the girls voice would definitely be annoying, the key is to note the beat.  You can never have too much bass when banging.  Just sayin’.

And this final selection is only for the gamblers.  The risk takers.  Because depending on the girl.  It could be a HUUUUUUUGE fail.  Or a HUUUUUUUGE massive success.  I won’t lie.  If we were making out on the couch.  And this song came on.  Even if I had been previous thinking I was going to stop things after you grabbed a boob or two.  You are now going to get lucky.  But like I said.  This likely won’t work with most chicks.  Chickies….please feel free to weigh in and let the boys know.

So I’m saying it boys, my dear dear boys.  You want to get laid?  You want her to not be vanilla?  You want her to be me?  Get your fuckin’ tunes together and step your game up.  And the ladies will thank you.  I will thank you.  Your balls will thank you.

Yours Truly,

Judgey Wudgey
aka Something She Dated
aka Considered Citizens For Better Sex
aka That Girl at the Gym Two Treadmills Over


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