Because That’s What Happens on Day Dates

 

Continued From Pool Sharks and Dead in the Water

 

[dropcap]S[/dropcap]o we had finished playing pool.  Paid our tab (him not me, obvs).  And he was walking me to my car.  It’s funny, during our date I had almost forgotten it was a day date because the sports bar was so dark but when we went outside it was still the bright and cheery sun of an early summer evening.  And there were people.  Everywhere!  And this is why day dates are so awful.

The thing is.  I’m not a fan of PDA.   Sure hand holding is fine.  And even a peck here and there.  But kissing.  Like full on makeout.  Well that’s just uncomfortable.  Get a room assholes, my mom and I are trying to ordering our lunch here or something like that.  Ya know.  Like respect your surroundings yo.  Now this isn’t to say I’ve never kissed anyone in public.  In fact during my drinking days.  Well.  You get the idea.  I’ve definitely lost an earrings or two at a nightclub.  Just Sayin’.  But my point is this.  I’m not a fan of the public kissing.

So you can imagine I’m even less excited about a FIRST kiss in public.  That’s a private event.  Between me and the hopefully luscious lips I’m making out with.  First kisses are nerve racking enough without the thought of 30 other people watching or at the very least being privy too.  And frankly.  I just don’t like it.  I’m weird and awkward like that.

So like I was saying.  The Vampire was walking me to my car.  And we were walking pretty slow.  Loitering a bit.  And we stopped right at the curb.  He stepped down.  Turned around.  And faced me.  And even with me on the curb we still weren’t quite face to face.  Though almost.  To be honest, if it had been dark, or even dusk and/or more private.  It would’ve been the perfect opportunity for a first kiss.  And it’s entirely possible he was thinking of going for one anyway.

I have a tiny inkling feeling that there were several times throughout our date that if had I just turned another way.  A kiss would’ve happened.  Because unlike with Kevin Bacon, with The Vampire there was a lot of touching.  The appropriate amount for people on a good second date, really.  Like when I managed to beat him the one time.  With possibly the most brilliant pool shot of all time.  He rushed over.  There was a big high five.  That turned into.  Well.  Sort of hand holding.  And then a hug.  And there was more of that throughout the date.

But though the bar was darker than outside.  It was still a sports bar.  That was fairly empty given the time of day.  And given my awkwardness and the feeling of being so exposed.  Well.  I probably turned away a little too soon with each hug.  And drew my hand away a little too fast with every hold.  And the hug outside was no different.  I’m fairly certain if instead of breaking gaze and turning left when he came in for the hug.  If I had just continued to hold his gaze.  A kiss would’ve been had.

But it was not to be.  So instead.  All I got was a hug.  A hug and many compliments.  You’re so beautiful.  You smell amazing.  Etc.  But still a kissless hug nonetheless.  Though to be fair it was still a lengthy, squishy, come in and hold and really feel each other kind of hug.  But still.  I’d had two dates with Kevin Bacon and now two dates with The Vampire and if I didn’t get a kiss from somebody soon, I’d have to stop calling them dates.  Seriously.

He’d asked about my weekend plans.  Maybe we could hang out.  And you have no idea how much I wanted to.  And honestly looking back now kind of wish I’d just said fuck it, my friends will understand and bailed on them.  But I didn’t.  I had two different parties to go to on Saturday night and unfortunately he was busy Friday night.  So what were we left with?  The possibility of another day date come the following week?  Ugh.  Suck.  Because the truth is I’d really had a good time with him.  Religious glitch aside…we had fun.  And I liked him enough that I wanted to see him again and hang out.  Not to mention the fact I was hoping he’d lick the salt off my lips at some point.  Just Sayin’.  A girl needs some kissin’ yo!  Seriously.  But we left it at that.  Potential day date plans hanging in the air.  And me thinking there has to be a way to make something work on the weekend.

Pool Sharks and Dead in the Water: Dating a Dating Blogger

Dating Bombs

 

I thought he might… but The Vampire didn’t bail.  Tuesday came around and we met up at the sports bar to play pool.  He looked adorable.  Hair all spiky and vampiry.  I was wearing my white summer dress.  The same thing I wore on my second date with Kevin Bacon.  I don’t know what it is about me but I like to keep a level playing field.  Something about science and research encourages me to keep as many factors as possible unchanged.  Sort of in the same way that one day I’ll look back at this period of dating from a healthier weight perspective and finally know whether or not it really is the huge factor I think it is.  But I digress.  I looked BOOBmazing cute.  We got some sodas and the balls and it was time to rack ’em up.

Sometimes I’m super sweet and kind and nice.  And non-judgmental.  But other times (like right before a first date) there’s a big part of me that’s terrified.  Of being embarrassed.  Of being witness to an embarrassing situation.  When I go on a first date I’m not petrified they won’t like me.  I’m scared shitless that they’re going to act like a lunatic and somehow mortify me in front of complete strangers.  I know I know.  It’s fucked up.  But whatever.  You’ve got your quirks too.  I’m just being honest here.  So this weird sensitivity to embarrassment is also ever-excessively-present when men take part in man-pride type things.  Shooting pool being no exception.

So you can therefore assume that while he’s racking up the balls my heart is racing for more reasons than the fact that he’s cute and fun and standing close to me.  Or is that me lurking over his shoulder.  Either way.  There are balls in hands and we’re practically touching.  And to be clear it’s not like you have to be a fucking pool shark to date me.  Not at all.  But to be honest, boys don’t usually take being beaten well (see: Twitter Guy, among others).  And then that’s just really fucking uncomfortable because nobody likes a sore loser.  Just Sayin’.  Awkward.  So yeah.  Either don’t play or don’t suck.  Or if you do suck be all rainbows and sunshine with me.

That being said.  He fucking rocked.  He started slow, clearly waiting to see what my level of play was like.  But as soon as he saw I wasn’t half bad he put on his super skills face.  I mean the dude was kickin’ ass and taking names.  Like head-turned-completely-away-from-the-table-checkin-me-out-and-still-making-the-shot kind of kickin’ ass.  It was delicious.  Plus added bonus.  I am now a better player.  He taught me how to play 9-ball.  He taught me some things about planning my shots better (who knew you were supposed to have forethought in pool *duh*).  He taught me how to break with some actual skill.  Most importantly to keep my eye on the cue ball.  Now I know that sounds ridiculous that I didn’t know this.  But let me explain.

In baseball, you keep your eye on the ball, not left field where you’re hoping to hit it.  So why wouldn’t it be the same with pool?  Well because I’m a pitcher.  When I’m playing ball I DON’T keep my eye on the ball…my eyes are always on the catcher’s mitt.  Always.  I’m not even looking at the batter.  They’re borderline irrelevant.  I’m focused on the mitt and where I’m about to put this ball in my hand.  And that’s how I’ve been playing pool.  With my eyes on the triangle.  And where I want to break.  Who fuckin’ knew.  Well apparently he did.  And probably the rest of you.  But he’d basically just blown my mind.  I was ready to shark some fools after this.  Okay maybe not.  But I was feeling good.

But then it happened.  I said the thing that sealed the bag.  Clinched the finale.  Hammered a nail in the coffin.  Put The Vampire out in the sun.  I told The Vampire about the blog.  Shhh…I can hear your sighs of disappointment through both time and space.  I know.  I know.  So let me clarify.  It was an accident.  I didn’t mean to.  And I have only myself to blame.

See the thing of the thing was that day.  That very day.  I found out some seriously amazing things were about to happen for me writing wise.  And for someone who had basically figured that writing would always be just a hobby or at the bare minimum not something I pursued till after I had my PhD. in hand.  This was fucking huge.  More so because I was being pursued.  By more than one venture.  I mean fucking brilliant right?!?!

And further to this thing of the thing is the fact that I tend to get….excited.  I’m a champion of enthusiasm and advocate of passion.  Go hard or go home is a regular mantra.  And when I’m excited…I talk about it.  Pretty straight forward.

And then the final thing of the thing is the fact that I don’t lie.  Keep information to myself?  sure.  Side-step uncomfortable topics?  definitely.  Don’t we all sometimes?  So I can keep the blog to myself.  Keep silent about being a writer (something I only recently felt I could call myself).  Sure I can do that.  But when someone asks me a question.  I can’t lie.  So when I told him about this new writing stuff.  His first question was.  What kind of writing?  And while I stuttered and stumbled he zeroed in.  What’s the subject matter?  What are you writing about?  And maybe I should’ve lied.  But I just couldn’t.  So I made it as soft as I could.  Because while I might answer sex…boys, balls and blowjobs to someone asking at a party, I had to make it more gentle for him.  So I said relationships…and dating.

And I could feel the temperature changing in the room.  In the space of a few seconds we’d gone from 2 hours of hilarious laughter…endless back and forth witty banter…and super sexy shark skills…to…oh.  And honestly at the time I thought it was just a minor speedbump.  I figured it wouldn’t be a huge deal.  I figured I could swing it back around into my favor.  But as the conversation went on.  I could tell.  I had inklings.  He wasn’t taking it as well as I thought.

Suddenly it became clear that I’d gone from sweet, adorable and innocent to chick who dates for sport.  The questions he was asking made it pretty clear.  But it wasn’t all bad.  At some points I thought I might have convinced him of the truth.  Which was that I actually didn’t date that much.  I was selective.  I was invested.  And though I still never brought up the religion being a problem thing.  The truth was.  I liked The Vampire.  Like had a really good time with him type like.  Like wanting to keep seeing him type like.  Like wanting to make out with him type like.  And at the time, even though the conversation had taken a hit, I still thought it might be a possibility.  Especially when we ditched the subject of my blogging.  (btw…I didn’t tell him my blog address or pseudonym or anything.)

When we got back to talking about other stuff.  Like his new career path.  Pastry.  The conversation seemed to take flight again.  Though I will admit while talking about desserts etcetera it occurred to me what an absolutely horrible idea it might be to date a pastry chef.  That would NOT bode well for being the Biggest Loser.  Just sayin’.  Mamma don’t need to get more obese.  Though I do love a good danish….lol  But I digress.

And after a bit longer it was time to go.  The end of our day date.  With him having to get up the next morning at 430am we had to keep it early.  That seemed a reasonable enough reason for me to reasonably believe.  Plus I knew that going into the date…that’s why we met up at 530…which is practically the middle of the afternoon.  But still.  A girl always wonders.  If an early date means a busy guy…or an uninterested one.  Did my fling with a pool shark end in a heartbeat?  Had my big reveal made me dead in the water?

 

To Be Continued  Because That’s What Happens on Day Dates

Room to Glance: Picking a Good Second Date Activity

Butterflies

 

[dropcap]S[/dropcap]o while all the kerfuffle with Kevin Bacon was going on…let’s be honest…my life carried on pretty much the same as usual.  Suntanning.  Studying.  The usual.  Saturday I got a call from The Vampire who, to be honest, I wasn’t sure I’d hear from again.  Sure our first date had gone amaze but then he’d bailed on our 2nd date plans and I’ve really been trying to get better at reading signals.  This being the exact reason I hadn’t contacted him since the bail.  It was his move or no move.  And move he did.  By leaving a lengthy, adorable, vaguely nervous and rambly message on my voicemail.  Something about making plans to hang out this weekend and hoping my day was going good.

This weekend?  Was he joking?  It was Saturday already.  Afternoon and all but still.  Mamma doesn’t make last minute plans with new “somethings”.  Boy better step his game up yo.  But seriously.  If you want to see me on the weekend and we’ve had less than 5 dates you had better be asking by Wednesday…at the latest.

*Bee Tee Dub…5 dates isn’t a hard and fast rule that’s just about the time that I figure I’m feeling comfortable and we’re both pretty clear that we at least like the other person enough to not worry about first impressions etc.

That being said…this wasn’t to say I wouldn’t hang out with him.  Just that my weekend was already booked with a stagette and other plans.  So we made plans for Tuesday.  Unfortunately another “Day Date” (more on this later).  5pm.  I made some suggestions.  Drinks.  Coffee.  Shoot pool.  He chose pool.  And I’ll be honest.  I think I felt a butterfly.

Have I ever mentioned my love of pool?  Because I really love it.  Like ALL CAPS KIND OF LOVE.  And it’s not even just the fact that it’s a game based upon balls, sticks, pockets *insert obvious dirty & pun filled jokes here*.  It’s so much more than that.

First, I like an activity on a date.  But not something intense that becomes the focus of the date like go-karting or hiking or going to a concert.  Those things are great down the road.  During the we-know-each-other-and-just-want-to-do-fun-things kind of dating.  But not in the new part.  When we’re still just finding out things about the other person and possibly don’t even know last names yet.  So shooting pool is perfect.  Because it’s fun.  It’s sexy (all the bending and leaning and shooting *insert more dirty jokes and punny innuendo*).  And it allows the chatter to still flow flawlessly without having to constantly just look at the other person.  I like room for glancing.  You need space to have a glance.  Look away.  And glance back.  I fucking love a good glance.  And that’s what pool allows.

Though I should really add an addendum or qualifier to my statement about my love of pool.  Because after all, I’m not amazing.  I’m not horrendous.  I’m somewhere in the middle.  And my skills definitely fluctuate.  Though I’ve been known to hold my own with the boys.

Further addendum to that.  Generally when I play pool I’m on a date.  With Twitter Guy.  With Trucker Joe.  With The Nick Name.  With The PhD.  Hmm…that’s quite the list.  And possibly the only times I’ve played pool in the last 2-3 years.  I wonder if I’m dating just so I can shoot some balls around with my big stick.  Heyyooo.  It had to be said.

Final addendum.  For any chicks or friends willing to play pool with me.  I promise I won’t jump your bones or check you out when you line ’em up.  I’m not an animal after all.  I can control myself.  Please still play pool with me.

So that was that.  I had a 2nd date booked with The Vampire.  And though excited, there was definitely a part of me that tried to keep it nonchalant.  Because he’d already bailed once.  Who’s to say he wouldn’t bail again.  We’ll see….

 

To Be Continued . . .

Rules of Dating: Booking, Bailing, and Baseball

Making Plans

 

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]n Dating (capital D Dating), I’m always fighting a constant battle between what I think I should be doing in dating and what I want to do in dating.

Example.  I know I should wait for the boy to contact me, I know I should wait for him to ask me out.  But I want to just ask a boy out because I have some free time and I want to fucking hang out and doesn’t anybody else get tired of the dating dance?

And I was tired.  And excited to have gone on a date with a guy who didn’t seem completely retarded.  Plus there’d been some cute texting and some fun DMs on Twitter.  So I figured fuck it.  So on Sunday, after getting home from my date with TheVampire and on my way to a movie with a friend, I texted.

Hey 🙂 Hope your weekend is going good…just seeing if you wanted to make plans to do something this week?  

 

And yes I know that seems a little mundane but I’ve never claimed to be a stand up comedian 24/7.  Sometimes you’re just a normal person.  Asking normal things.  Getting shit done.  And apparently it went over well because he responded.

Yes.  Let me get back to you on which day… and before I had time to worry that this was a blow off, he texted again.  What’s best for you?  I’m busy Monday and Tuesday for sure.

And we went from there.  I just happened to have tickets to a ballgame and Thursday was locked in.  Plus all the obvious witty banter about nuts.  We were going to a ballgame after all.

Things were really shaping up.  After 7 months of no good dating I had just managed to go on 2 good first dates.  Had just booked a 2nd date with Kevin Bacon and within hours of returning home from my Sunday day-date with The Vampire had a message on POF waiting for me.  Informing me that The Vampire had in fact had an awesome time too and wanted to hang out again.  Not wanting to seem too eager, I waited till Monday to reply.

He responded back Tuesday and we made plans for Wednesday.  Except unfortunately our plans were still a bit loose.  He suggested we go somewhere downtown.  I didn’t really get the logic in this since I was living out in the burbs till the end of summer, had a car and he lived in Burnaby.  Why wouldn’t we just hang out in Burnaby.  But perhaps he wanted to go somewhere fun.  Unfortunately as luck we have it we didn’t end up hanging out.  Now in all fairness he could make the claim that we didn’t have plans yet and thus him being tired (from work) and having homework from school was a valid reason to bail on hanging out and not hit me up till Thursday.  I think we’re all quite aware though that I don’t think like that.  You make a plan.  You stick to the plan.  At the bare minimum you contact the other person to ensure bailing is mutually understood.

That being said, since I already knew we weren’t written in the stars, so to speak, because of his religious predilections, I figured I’d let this one slide.  Everybody fucks up once and he did seem pretty into me.  But that doesn’t mean I’d be sticking my neck out.  The effort was his to expend.

Dating Deal Breakers: The Pink Jesus in the Room

What are dating deal breakers?

 

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]hursday happened with  Kevin Bacon (OneTwo & Three) and then (as the normal progression of time would indicate) it was Friday.  Saturday.  Sunday and thus it was time for my coffee date with The Vampire.  I was calm.  I was relaxed.  To be honest I was much more nonchalant nancy than normal.  And I have Kevin Bacon to thank for that.  Because nothing says relax, you got this like being fresh off a first date that wasn’t a total disaster.  That in fact was actually pretty fun.

Plus.  Ya know.  If everything on his profile was a reflection of truth…He was tall.  He was sexy.  And according to our conversations he seemed pretty normal.  Pretty on the ball.  Pretty with it when it came to Online Dating.  So I put on my magic dress and went to meet my prince of the night.  er.  well.  my acting prince of the night.  This was a day date after all.  3pm.  Starbucks coffee date.  Just a little meet and greet.  To make sure I looked like my photos and he wasn’t a sociopathic serial killer, and hadn’t lied about his height.

I was early.  So unlike me.  I guess I’ve been learning a thing or two about boys after all.  They don’t like to be kept waiting.  Noted, fellas, noted.  He arrived on time.  And his profile had been exact.  *sigh of relief*  I ordered my coffee nonfat skinny vanilla latte at kids temperature.  The barista just looked at me.  Like half-temp?  He asked.  Perfect I said.  Which it ended up not being by the way.  I could feel the burn on my tongue for days.  But I digress.  The Vampire didn’t order anything.  Wasn’t in the mood for coffee.  Which admittedly made me feel a bit awkward but I carried on.  He paid for my drink and we headed outside, to sit on a bench, beside a fountain, in the gorgeous summer sun.  I mean, shit son.  It was pretty smooth and adorable.

The conversation was fantastic.  It started out with where are you from? and before I knew it we were talking about 18th century whore biographies and the many potential literature specialties that I could pursue as I travel down my academic career.  He had questions.  Lots and lots of questions.  And opinions.  And most importantly he had a face that seem to light up when I talked.  When he talked.  When we talked together.  Passion.  And this only a meet and greet.

Before long the boy who seemed a little bit awkward and shy when buying my coffee had become comfortable, confident and expressive.  The truth is I like clear signals.  I don’t like surprises.  I don’t like to chase.  I don’t like fucking uncertainty.  Now this isn’t to say I want fake, over-the-emotional-top, untimely declarations of lusting or liking or loving.  That shit’s just ridiculous.  But signs.  That you like me?  Well that shit is golden ponyboy.  Golden.  The Vampire appeared to speak this lusty sign language fluently.  And it wasn’t creepy like with The PhD.  And it wasn’t missing like with Trucker Joe.  It was perfect.  A brush of the arm here.  A touch of the shoulder there.  Sitting close but not to close.  Looking at me.  Seeing me.  Touching me.  Butterflies.  Laughter.  Perfect.

Detour.  In the last post about Kevin Bacon I mentioned how there are 2 Me’s.  The dating me and the friend me.  I was talking about this with some friends a couple nights before my meet and greet with The Vampire and they almost couldn’t believe it.  But we love this [friend] SSDated!! you should show Her to the boys.  And it got me thinking.  That maybe I should show a bit more of the real me.  The one you read here.  The one who tweets.  The one who laughs loud and full and says a lot of Heyoooos and ThatsWhatSheSaid’s all the while deliciously loving sexy innuendo and puns that taste so good they make your tongue hurt.  And so that’s what I had decided to do, with The Vampire, and honestly it was going fucking amazing.

Back on Track.  Everything with The Vampire was going flawlessly.  The conversation was great.  He was fun.  He was passionate.  He was interested in what I had to say.  He was engaging to say the least.  And to be completely honest his eyes had casually drifted enough times while I innocently adjusted the top of my dress and the pendant around my neck that I was certain at the very least, he found me attractive.  Not to mention when he mentioned how incredibly photogenic I was and how I was even more beautiful than my photos.  And then it happened.  Not so much a bombshell…though I felt shell shocked afterwards.  He let it slip.  More little by little than one big kaboom but how it happened is really just semantics.  There was no avoiding the reality (and I use that term loosely) of the situation.

He hit me with one of many dating deal breakers.  Or was it?

Somehow.  I, one of the world’s minor exaggeration biggest Atheist, had ended up on a date with a Christian. I mean, what are the fucking chances?  And though everyone’s first question, when I tell them this, seems to be, does he go to church?  Like that’s what matters to me.  Church is just a ritual and to be honest, rituals have a great potential to be awesome depending on what they are and how they’re used.  Church isn’t a problem for me.  Believing there’s a big guy in the sky??  Now that’s the fucking Crown of Thorns in my side.

And in a moment.  A gust of wind blew all the real potential out of the date.  Because as I explained to my mother later when she suggested that he might change…could change…that it was possible…maybe I’d convince him.  The truth is he wasn’t a child.  Who hadn’t yet thought things through.  So obviously it was something he pondered a great deal.  At 33 you fucking know yourself.  Or at least you should.  And obviously this was a belief he held onto strongly.  And though religion seemed awful to me.  Just as awful is a fickle believer.  Ok so it might not be quite as bad.  Because after all I’d rather someone eventually turn to science and logic than never turn that way at all.  But still.  Not for me.  Just.  Sigh.  Not for me.

But just because I wasn’t picturing our golden years together doesn’t mean I was ready to throw the baby Jesus out with the manger water.  Think of all the good dating we could still have.  Because he was fun.  We were having fun.  And the laughter was real.  So I kept my mouth shut.  Sat there silent while he talked about a hope of one day doing Missionary work in Africa.  Though until then it was working in hospitality and going to culinary arts school.  I smiled and avoided his eyes.  Steered clear of falsehoods except through my silence.  Tried to guide the conversation away.  Did everything I could to avoid addressing the big pink Jesus in the room.

Which was successful because the date came right back to amazing and carried on that way till he walked me to my car.  Where we continued to talk.  And then he hugged me.  Long.  Delicious.  Strong.  And said he definitely wanted to hang out again.  Held my door open for me.  Smiled.  And said goodbye.  A perfect first date.  An amazing meet and greet.  Ya know.  But with one major minor glitch.

 

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.

 

Stunning Potential: Dating a New “Something”

The Vampire

 

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]o be completely honest it had been a long slow summer in Vancouver.  I hadn’t gone on a date since The Nick Name way back at Christmas, but at least during the winter months I’d had school to be my scapegoat keep me occupied.  And yes, I’d certainly wasted a ton of time catching the Bird Seed of The Nick Name, Hot And Dumb and HAZmazing but I hadn’t gone an actual date in months.  A fucking ridiculous amount of months.

I had all but given up.  In fact, I had; I was bitter, I was jaded.  But more than this, I was sad.  I had gotten to a place where boys were no longer the icing on my sex cake.  There was no sugar in my cotton candy drum to spin into sweet sticky happiness.  Boys were blowing it left and right BOOM!.  Or maybe I was, but either way we were all getting blown up and nobody was getting blown.

Now this isn’t to say I wasn’t getting any messages on Plenty of fish because I was, but it was a marching band of degenerates (and not in the sexual awesome kind of way).  A parade of pariahs.  A herd of hidiots.  Does that work?  I think you get the idea.  So, you can imagine that with every new message what was left of my tiny shreds of hope was exhaled.  Though there was one that perked a brow, if you will.

 

The subject read:  Stunning Face.

 

Hold up.  Is this a thing we’re doing now?  Stunning.  Is this a thing that boys are being told to say.  Like mothers the globe over are all Say stunning sweetheart, girls love to hear that.  Because though, as my friend would say, Facts Are Facts, I find it bizarre that this particular compliment is used on me so often.  Almost more than Hot Tits even…and we all know I hear that one on the regular from the online boys.  But I digress.

 

So there it was.  A good start message.  I opened it and it was filled with normal, sane, logical commentary.  There was a bit about him noticing my positive attitude and smile and blah blah blah good stuff.  I checked out his profile.

 

 

[colored_box color=”blue”]

Username:  Logical and normal without lacking all creativity

Age:  33

Height:  6’1

Profession:  Hospitality

[/colored_box]

 

 

And then I looked at his picture.  And I mean his “something” name just fucking wrote itself:  The Vampire.  Allow me to explain.  See, the thing is, I know I’m all a grown up and shit but the truth is sometimes those Vampire shows just suck you in (see what I did there?)  Now Twilight, is not for me, those movies are just fucking ridiculous.  But Trueblood?  I mean that’s like Vampire porn for adults.  I’m pretty sure I once banged a guy 4 or 5 times simply because I was so turned on by the show.  And then there’s The Vampire Diaries and man alive if those boys aren’t just the hottest things in town.  I mean, I know in real life they’re incredibly thin and rather short but on the screen, whoa mamma.  All I’m saying is that they’re babes I could fuck for eternity.

Back to The Vampire then.  This reall is one of those situations where I wish I could show you the picture of a “something”.  I’m not going to but I sure do wish I could.  Because then I wouldn’t even need this explanation.  Because you’d just know.  This new possible “something” looked exactly like he should be an actor on a Vampire show.  Not an actual vampire mind you…but like an actor…on one of these shows…like if he ever showed up for an audition those directors and producers would hire him on the spot.  Vampire.  Fucking.  Show.  Actor.  Perfect.  Fit.  Awesome Sauce.  And since I clearly have a thing for that look.  Well I was sold.  Er…mostly.  I mean don’t get me wrong…a summer of bitterness and borderline hatred of boys didn’t make me into an over-the-moon Pollyanna.  But I was willing to at least hear the boy out so to speak.

A few messages were sent back and forth.  He appeared just jaded enough with dating as to realize things like you can message all you want but nothing is real until you meet in person but not so jaded that he seemed bitter and angry.  He was ready to meet whenever I was.  Unfortunately we were midweek and I was busy and then I was off to go camping for the weekend.  Let’s go for a coffee when you’re back from camping he said.  And just like that.  It appeared I had my first potential date of the summer.  But like all the idiots before who I’d had potential dates with, I wasn’t about to count my chicks before they’d hatched.  We would see about this.  Whether or not he followed through.  But for the time being I hate shit to do.  Like tweeting and suntanning in the backyard while studying vocabulary for the GRE I have to take in October…irascible…easily made angry…synonyms…cantankerous; irritable; ornery; testy…how fitting.

 

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