Kevin Bacon: A Date By Any Other Name (Part Two)


Continued from…Here

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]t was Thursday night and we were out for sushi, Kevin Bacon and I.  And it was fun.  We were discussing dating.  Talking theory and regaling each other with past date stories.  He asked a lot about the blog like did I write it to give advice? or who was the main audience? or how many hits did I get a day?  And somewhere along the way he brought up an ex.  Who just so happened to write a dating blog?  urgh…that seems weird…I thought…wondering if he’s meeting up with me to learn all about the ins and outs of dating blogging because of her?  And so I started to wonder, since Vancouver is an incredibly small city to begin with, and there seem to only be a handful of us dating bloggers, if that, who it might be and if I had any contact with them.  Sensing this, I’m guessing, he told me.

And wouldn’t you fucking know it.  She followed me on Twitter.  Had been following me on Twitter for awhile.  And I had recently followed her when I went through a big misguided *follow everybody who follows you* phase.  The truth was we’d never engaged.  She retweeted me fairly often but she just wasn’t my kind of Panda.  I engage with people for 1 of 3 reasons:


1. I know them IRL

2. They’re funny

3. They interest me

She unfortunately fell into none of these categories, though I’m sure a lovely gal.  And I couldn’t help but to think.  Really?!?!  Now I know people are constantly discovering themselves and what they do and don’t like in people and relationships and even just life.  But this girl really couldn’t be more different from me.  I would guess she never swore, or said retarded (two things he obviously wasn’t so super keen on as he joked about wanting to catch my words right out of the air so as to not hit the people at the table next to us).  She was probably a real sweetheart…I bet she doesn’t watch TV either.  Bleh.

After that, I tried to steer the conversation away from blogging for a bit.  Honestly, the whole thing kind of weirded me out.  That’s a pretty big coincidence in a city with fewer dating bloggers than I’ve got fingers.  But I digress.

After that we talked about ourselves, personal histories and day by day details.  Having both gone to UBC, and me still there working on my 2nd BA, we had more than one thing in common.  And this of course lead to a conversation about the intelligence, or possibly complete lack thereof, of the boys I’d previously dated.  Which in turn lead to comments about the enjoyment of our current conversation, and the obvious ability to sustain one as such.  And that’s when it happened.

This is one of the best dates I’ve been on in a really long time he said.  And I just looked at him.


Wait?!? What!?!?  This is a date I asked baffled using some kind of *this-here-this-right-now-you-me-you-me-you-type hand gestures*


Does it matter? he asked and I did everything to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor.


Of course it fucking matters!  Of course it matters!  Fucking of course!  Don’t be an ideiot!  I have compartments!  I’m a compartmentalizer!  Friends go over here!  Dating goes over here!  No mixing!  No emotional double dipping!  Pick a side and stay there!


But that’s not exactly what I said.  I contained it all as well as I could.  But I was honest.  Of course it matters I said.  He asked why and I tried to explain without sounding like some kind of control freak.  I stumbled a bit with the explanation.  Trying to convey that there are easily 2 “SSDateds”.  There’s “Friend SSDated”; she’s the one you see on Twitter, the one who says balls and blowjobs and jizz and fuck fuck fuck! and is judgey wudgey was a bear and all that jazz.  She’s a lot of fun, I’m not going to lie.  And then there’s “Dating SSDated”; she’s awfully girly and rarely talks too loud, she’s fun but she’s understanding and patient and non-judgmental, she’s just so goddamn go with the flow.  I still wasn’t sure he was really getting it.

And then the bill came.  Or more exactly the waitress came and asked if she should split the bill.  We both said yes and when she’d gone from the table he asked my opinion.  About who should pay on the first date.  And my response?  This.  This right here.  This is why it matters.  I said.  Whether or not this is a date.

Because if we were out there having sushi as buddies, as friends, as pals, as Twitter meeters the answer would be Boys pay.  Always.  No Fucking question.  If you’re on a date you get that wallet out quick, son.  You have the credit card ready.  Or you pull a Batman-James-Bond-Super-Sex-Hero and you give the waitress a card, long before the thought of a cheque ever hits the table.

But, if we were on a date???  Well then the answer would be completely different.  I’d probably shrug my shoulders, bat my eye lashes while averting my eyes.  It doesn’t matter I’d say we can split it.  Of course. *awkward silent exasperation*  No biggie and then I’d smile.  Cute.  Adorable.  Pleasant.  Affable.

Which is what we did.  Split it, I mean.

Kevin Bacon: A Date By Any Other Name (Part One)



[dropcap]S[/dropcap]o I know the last couple of blog posts have been a little bit spazzy.  A little bit zig and zaggy.  A little bit confusing. A little bit stumbly and bumbly.  And I’d like to come in and say that’s all about to change.  But the thing of the thing is it’s actually about to get worse.  Because

  1. I’ve once again managed to get behind in the blogging.  Which can be a good thing.  For readers.  That follow me on Twitter.  In the sense that now suspense has already been built before the stories even really begin; having seen all kinds of tweets about The Vampire and Kevin Bacon and not knowing the full scoop.
  2. The inherent nature of the existence of two “somethings” at the same time.  A little taste of multi-dating if you will.  And though I always ask my friends if they want to hear about the boys chronologically or boy by boy the truth is it only makes sense when the stories are told as intertwining.  Because that`s how they really happen.  They dating doesn’t occur in a bubble with each boy only being affected by his actions and my actions alone.  There’s an entire world of contributions and effects that change the very path of life on which it all occurs.  Oh how philosophical I know.  But seriously.  You can’t ask why the sky is blue without mentioning the ocean.  And dating is the same way.  Life is the same way.  That’s just how it is.

That being said I’ll be doing my best to draw you a map.  I’ll let you look at the guidebook over my shoulder and point out the tourist traps along our winding road.  Basically I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t miss a single beat.  But if I falter.  Or something is unclear.  Because just like I’m a dawdler.  We all know I’m a rambler.  So for goodness sake Say Something!! in the comments.  Ask a question.  Tell me what’s unclear.  Because though the web address of the blogging is different it’s still me.  Still SSDated.  Still my responses in the comments.  Still me holding your hand through the lusty-giddy-disappointing-mushy-sappy-sexy-upbeat-downtrodden-rollercoaster moments.  I got this.

So back to the matter at hand.  I’d made a date with The Vampire for Sunday.  And I told you about how I had lusted after dating a guy from Twitter.  And when I last left you I had just made plans to switch the planned Sunday coffee with Kevin Bacon to that night.  Thursday.  A casual dinner.  Sushi.  And that’s where we’re at.

Meeting Kevin Bacon

I showed up to the sushi place wearing my magic dress.  I often wear this dress on dates in the summer.  But this wasn’t a date.  We were meeting as friends.  As Twitter aficionados.  As internet geeks.  But to be fair, I wear this same magic dress just as often for regular every day outings and events in the summer.  Because it’s adorable.  And it’s motherfucking comfortable.  But needless to say, it was doing its job.  At least in my opinion.  Hiding the bad bits (tummy) and accentuating the good (boobs and butt).

I walked in the door and the place was borderline silent.  I mean, like most small sushi joints, it only had seating for like 20 and it was only half full.  Which in theory is lovely.  But when we’re talking about me.  Loud voiced booming me.  And talking about dating.  About things I get excited about.  Things I get #ExcitedHands about?  Well shit, son.  That’s not so great.  I looked for him right away, still not really knowing who I was looking for.  I didn’t see him and told the hostess I’m meeting someone, but I’m just going to use the washroom first.  However, as soon as I turned past the decorative room divider.  I heard someone say something and there was a boy standing up to greet me.  He was tall, like he said.  And then he stuck out his hand to shake mine.  But homie don’t play that way.  I’m a hugger.  Plain and simple.  It’s how I roll.  Anything else just feels weird.  So I told him so and put actions to words.  And then promptly went to the washroom.

When I came back the chatter flowed flawlessly.  I’ll admit I was nervous and excited.  Like I am with any novel situation (and meeting someone one on one from Twitter is pretty novel for me, though I’m learning to really love it).  But he seemed nice.  I was happy to be doing something fun.  And most fucking importantly.  He Had Like A Hundred Million Questions!  Also known as the amazing state of being Curious.

It was all amazing.  Until he asked if I liked Unagi.  And I, of course, point two fingers to my temple and recited aahhh Salmon Skin Roll.  Only he didn’t laugh.  Nor get my friends reference.  And when I mentioned it, his only response was that friends sucks and something about the awful and constant laugh track.  Now I know you’re probably thinking.  So what?  But TV is a big thing for me.  And though I’ll admit Friends isn’t always the funniest.  It has some beyond amazing jokes.  This being worthy or a mention.  And not only did he not really get it.  But it’s not like a *shrug* and laugh and whatever and carry on kind of thing.  He saw no humor in it.  But I digress.

So the truth is, I don’t eat real sushi.  I eat all the faux stuff like california rolls and tempura etc.etc.etc.  But he asked if I would try something.  And being the adventurous chick that I am I figured what the hell.  And you know what?  It wasn’t bad.  Kind of like chicken.


Two New Guys, Two New Dates

Ask me out


[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he weekend came and went.  I went camping and ate like a Sumo Wrestler.  Got a tan but also managed to get eaten alive by creepy crawlers (to the extent I felt it looked like I had the plague).  So you can safely assume I was not feeling my sexiest upon my return to the real world.  And by real world I obviously mean the dating world.  The world where The Vampire was waiting to hear that I hadn’t been eaten by bears (or started exclusively dating any).  So I put off contacting him.  I figured by midweek I’d be at least approaching non-leper status and could thus consider planning our meeting.  But we’re going to put a pin in this story for a moment.  Because this post is also about another boy.  One who, for reasons that will become endlessly obvious as I unfold this tale, I will call Kevin Bacon.

I’m not really sure who followed whom.  Or exactly when it happened.  But sometime, not too long ago, I started getting responses to my random tweets from a guy.  At first I think it was something like cheer up, it’s okay and then one day he responded to something racy I’d said.  Pretty soon the tweets turned into a discussion which turned into DMs about dating and carried on until he suggested we meet (presumably to talk about my thoughts on dating).  He mentioned he was on POF and so I suggested that we exchange profiles so that at least he would know who he was meeting.  His twitter avi is of his face but of course like most people it’s obscured by a side view (not to mention the instagramming effects, etc.).  Not to mention the fact that my ability to recognize people is horribly skewed.  Let’s not forget that horrible incident way back when with Tedski when I spent the beginning part of the date thinking that in fact he was a different guy.  Who then promptly from afar rejected me.  If you’re not familiar with this ridiculous situation or how traumatizing it was feel free to read about it here.

So where was I?  Oh yeah…so originally I had thought Kevin Bacon was flirting with me but then he said things like no expectations and wanting to go in blind that made me put him squarely in the buddy pile.  He said name the time and place, so I did…coffee, yaletown, Sunday at 7pm.  Done.

And then before I knew it, it was midweek and I was contacting The Vampire.  We set a date.  Coffee, Burnaby, Sunday at 3pm.  Done.  Now I know what you’re thinking…2 sets of plans right after the other.  But my theory is it’s not double booking if it’s not a date…which it wasn’t…with Kevin Bacon.  Plus the thing of the thing is:

Reasons that two guys and two dates is totally okay

1.       I already knew The Vampire saw the first meeting like I did…a chance to make sure the other person is at least on the surface who they say they are, that they aren’t completely ridiculous, and that at least some good conversation is on the menu.

2.      The thing with Kevin Bacon was a friendly thing.  The same way as it is when I meet anyone from Twitter.  Girls, Boys, whatever, buddies.

3.      I’m not a regular makeup wearer.  Let me be more clear…I wear makeup always when I’m meeting a new boy.  Or even a new girl.  I wear makeup to a party and anything fun at night really.  But daytime makeup is not my thing.  I like a fresh face.  I have sensitive eyes.  Plus who the fuck has time to get dolled up every day.  I’m a student.  I’m a writer.  I spend most of my time studying (in my jogging pants), writing (in my jogging pants) or working out (in slightly tighter stretchier pants).  So you can argue its virtues if you want…but I’m not a regular daytime makeup wearer.  That being said when I go out I go all out.  Plus I’m a dawdler.  So getting ready for a date takes about 2 hours (shower inclusive but still a lengthy period of time).  I’ve got curly hair and I like to look nice.  So that being said, getting dolled up puts a lot of pressure on a date.  Because if it’s a total fucking bust or equally as bad if the dude flakes (though I’ve yet to have that happen when actually having shown up for a date) then I’ll be super enraged.  Thus, I like to make plans with friends, when I can, to follow dates.  Because that way, no matter what, the hair and makeup would be worth it.  So I saw this whole Sunday thing as a top notch situation.

So that was that.  Coffee date with The Vampire and friendly Meet and Greet with Kevin Bacon.  Good times.  Only here’s the thing with Twitter AND anyone willing to talk dating with me.  The conversation will continue to carry on.  And he had questions.  Which you know I love.  And he kept asking them.  And I wanted to answer but I kind of felt that this would be impinging on the awesome conversation that would occur on Sunday.  So I told him this and he suggested we just meet right away.

Detour.  I still had bites from camping.  I was still pudgy la rue.  And thus I was hesitant.  Even meeting a new friend you want to look your best no?  But then I had an epiphany.  Well 2 actually.  One being that it’s not like I was going to lose 30 lbs. in the next 4 days and the other being that I did not want to be the kind of person that lets life pass them by because of being chubby.  Fuck that noise.

Back on Track.  Kevin Bacon said he had plans that later that evening with friends but suggested a casual dinner.  Sushi.  Done.