Waiting for the Next Date: The Irrational Side of Dating

Head Desk

[dropcap]I should[/dropcap] come with a warning label.  Like a silk shirt.  Dry clean only.  Or a 100% cotton dress.  Cold wash only.  Lay flat to dry.  Except that mine would say things like.  Impatient.  Respond to text messages immediately.  Irrational.  Doesn’t respond well to being turned down for plans (even if you have a good reason).  Child-like.  Handle with care.  Just Sayin’.

So I was recently thinking.  About Trucker Joe.  And I was thinking.  How hard I’ve been on him (in my mind) for it not being more obvious that he’s into me (btw I know I’m retarded and simply by continuing to call that should be clear but well…see irrational warning label above).  Anyway.  And I got to thinking about how he might be feeling.  About me.  And what I think.  About him.  Because the thing of the thing is.  Except for the first text message.  I’ve never texted first.  My texts and/or calls.  Have always been in response, in reply.  And I’ve never been the one to ask about hanging out.  Sure I’ve always said yes when he’s asked.  And frankly that’s because his weekends are usually during the week and thus I’m free.

And I was out for coffee with a friend.  And I mentioned this.  And I mentioned how this week, he only had 4 days scheduled.  AKA would be off on Saturday night.  And she was like.  So ask him out then.  But I was hesitant.  Because I can be irrational.  And I can be very quick to feel jilted.  And asking someone out for a Saturday night.  That has big jilting potential.  Plus I thought.  What am I going to do.  Ask him out and then be like.  Uh…but we’ll hang out at your place alright?  Nope.  No good.  So we brainstormed.  And thus the idea of the Drive-In was born.

Reasons the Drive In Would Be Total Awesome Sauce
1.  It’s in the city he lives in
2.  I can drive over to his place and then we could take his truck (could that BE any sexier…a summer night at the drive in, in a pickup truck??? Just Sayin’)
3.  After the movie we could always just go back to his place (afterall my car would be there)
4.  Um…hello…sexy!?!?
5.  Movies are awesome.  Movies outdoors in the summer at the epitome of awesome.
6.  He had actually mentioned it on our first date (finally I can score points for remembering something)
7.  I would definitely get an A for effort.

But it’s Tuesday.  So I can’t text yet.  And then Wednesday rolls around.  But I don’t want to seem too eager.  Yet, I do need to do it soon.  Because I don’t want him to make other plans for Saturday.  So I wait.  Till at night.  And then I text.

Me:  Hey Trucker Joe, Hope you’re having a good day. I was just wondering what you’re up to on saturday?

Trucker Joe:  Hey SSD 🙂 my day was good. I’m supposed to be playing poker but it’s not for sure yet. What’s up??

Me:  Gotcha. Well no biggie, just thought maybe we could go to the Drive In.

Trucker Joe:  Can I give you an answer Friday??? Friend’s Name (his closest friend btw) is home then and I’ll know for sure what his plans are. The Drive in sounds like fun :)!

Me:  Sure that’s fine. (very uncharacteristic of me…you know I like to have my weekends planned out well in advance and really hate the idea that a boy could screw me by being like no, sorry I can’t and then not having saturday night plans…but I’m trying to be less…well…like that lol!)

So manage to not be totally schizo.  And I wait like a good little girl.  Till Friday rolls around.  And he calls.  I miss it.  It goes to voicemail.  The message is a bit lame at first (could he be nervous?).  But then he gets to it.  Saturday’s a no can do.  He got called in for another shift on Sunday.  But he would LOVE to go the Drive In with me on Tuesday if I’m free.

And I can’t lie.  I may.  MAY.  Have done a bit of crazy-chick-freaking-out.  But like always.  I contain the crazy.  I NEVER show them the crazy.  Keep the crazy to myself.  And my friends.  And I mostly blame PlentyOfFish.  Because they have this stupid feature.  That shows you.  When someone who’s messaged you, or you’ve messaged is online.  And so every so often I’ve seen him online (in the last couple of weeks).  And it’s total hypocrisy.  Because if I can see him online.  I’m obviously online.  And I know we’re free to see other people.  But the thing is.  I don’t want to be reminded of it.

Dear PlentyOfFish.com Operator,

Please install an “opt-out” button for online status alerting.  You may entitle it, “we’re already dating though not exclusive which I’m fine with but I don’t need to see when they’re online prowling”.  Thanks a ton.

Awesome Fish

So back to the crazy regarding this Saturday and his unavailability.  The thing is though.  As I write this.  I’m no longer spinning.  I’m breezy.  And calm.  And chilled.  Frankly I blame hormones for the hysteria.  Just Sayin’.  But the reason I mention this is that instead of trying to recreate the level of crazy and momentary hysteria for you guys from memory.  I’ve decided to just include part of an email I sent to a friend.  At the moment.  So yeah.  Sorry for any duplication of what I’ve already said.

So my thoughts are several fold

– yes I know he can get called into work so that COULD be totally legit…but how did it go from possibly busy with poker to can’t because of work??? except that if it was something like a date with another chick or something wouldn’t he just stick with “poker” and like why bother making up something else…which I guess makes sunday believable

– but then I’m like okay…so he worked W, T, Fr, and he’ll work Sat, & called in for Sun…so I’m like…probably not working monday then right? so why not monday night…which by the way I know is insane that I’m suddenly like…!!! We have to hang out the first night he gets off work and not the second (hysterical voice)!!!…and I don’t even know why I’m spinning like this…

okay actually that’s not true…reasons for spinning are also several fold (TMI Warning – aside from female approaching lady time hormones)

– I’m freaking out a bit because I AM actually a jealous person…BUT…and here’s what made me think I could be not exclusive and have it be no big deal…as long as I’m important and/or number 1…I don’t care if he’s dating other chicks….but how would I even know if I’m number one you ask? well because he would always make time for me…aka…I think this is why I’m freaking out….because part of me doesn’t believe the sunday biz…(though I think I probably should)

– oh and for reference…no…he has not given ANY indication that he’s even dating other chicks…the only cause for suspicion I have is 1. plentyoffish is retarded and tells you when someone you’ve messaged/has messaged you is online (if only they had a button for like…yeah…we’re dating but not exclusive yet so no need to tell me he’s on browsing for other chicks button) (and ps I know it would be totally hypocritical to be pissed because if I can see he’s online I’m obviously online as well and there ya go). The only other indication is that we always seem to hang out on monday or tuesday night…(again hence why saturday appears so important to me)…but as I’m typing I realize how crazy this seems because duh those are likely his days off and thus has time to hang out….

– also this makes me feel a bit jilted because it’s the only time I’ve asked him out

– it also concerns me a bit how illogical/jilted I feel and thus makes me think I might be in over my head thinking I could be “not exclusive” yet actually dating (as opposed to just booty call or something) with someone…urgh…

So yes.  I aware I was totally spinning and flipping out.  And I’m back to normal now.  Thanks in huge part to her advice back to me and ice-cream with TheHel.  And the thing about advice.  Is sometimes it can be the simplest thing.  But the simplest thing that you never even considered.  And that’s what it was.  Things that hadn’t even occured to me.

Now as far as Trucker Joe goes, maybe he saw the Dr and got some meds and wants to give good measure to make sure his junk is working? I know Id be pretty embarrassed about that and kinda wanting to wait it out.

I dont think its another chick. Your guys dates usually last pretty late right? Maybe poker would have ended sooner, or its just easier to say bye to his buddies for work instead of a girl hes interested in? It doesnt seem shady to me.

So I texted him back.  Sorry I missed your call.  Tuesday sounds great 🙂



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

Vancouver Dating Blogger: His (Hardy) Boys Solve The Case

Head Desk
[dropcap]So[/dropcap] when I last left you.  I was at Trucker Joe’s.  On our 5th Date.  We had finished watching Gran Torino.  And now.  At 1am.  We’re just sitting on the couch.  Talking.  And then he turned to me and said….

So I really want to make a move.  But.  I have something embarassing to tell you.

Whoa.  Fuck.  My mind is racing.  The following possibilities run through my mind in rapid succession.

1. He’s dating another chick, they’re exclusive and he can’t see me anymore…
2. He has VD…
3. He has ED…
4. He’s really just not attracted to me…
5. He’s actually still married…
6. He’s tired and lame and just wants me to go home already…

Now I know you all really like Trucker Joe.  Are rooting for Trucker Joe.  And that’s why I really feel the need to stop.  Before I go any further.  And preface this by saying.  That all boys are retarded in general.  Basically.  They’re all 12 years old and never grow up.  And I’m not even just saying this.  To defend Trucker Joe.  Because he is not the first boy.  Who was retarded.  In this field of…er…expertise.

So obviously my head is spinning at this point.  I’m sure I looked like a deer caught in the headlights coupled with a concerned mother worried about a little kid.  So I can’t really remember exactly what he said to me.  But here’s the gist of it.  Try not to throw him out with the bath water just yet.

– his “boys” are killing him

– his friend (read: not a doctor, not even likely someone smart) told him to try these testosterone patches to ya know…amp his manhood up

– he stopped using them a little while back

– he’s making a doc appointment to get it checked out


– but he’s basically incapacitated in that way right now

Oh Trucker Joe.  *shakes head*  But I mean.  What are ya gonna do right?  Fuckin’ Boys eh?  I’m just hoping this is a case of I-want-to-make-my-dick-super-human and not my-dick-doesn’t-really-work-that-great ya know?  So I stayed for a bit longer.  Chatted for a bit longer.  Brought the laughter back.  And then.  Being that it was about 2am and I knew there’d be no sexy behavior occuring.  I called it a night.  Again, he walked me to my car.  Hugged me goodbye.  And waited while I drove away.

And at first I’m kind of like.  Okay well I get the not heavy-gettin’-it-on.  But man.  At least there could have been some hand holding.  Or making out.  Or at least a kiss goodbye.  But if he’d held my hand he’d have had to tell me then so it didn’t go further and it probably took him those two movies to get up enough courage to spill it.  And the making out.  Well.  I’m guessing same thing.  Plus maybe getting aroused makes his (hardy) boys hurt more.  Who knows?  The kiss goodbye…I guess maybe he was just still super embarassed.  Who knows.  Best not think too deeply on it.  For now.

But what I do know is this.  Though I hadn’t actually decided if we would be sleeping together yet.  I still wore the red lacies that night.  And they were frustrated.  Good natured and understanding.  But still.  Frustrated.  By this new development.

My undies are definitely disappointed.  I said.
They won’t be for long.  He said with certainty.
Vancouver Dating Blog:  Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time

Vancouver Dating Blogger and the Case of the Missing Move

Dating Mistakes

[colored_box color=”blue”]
Police Officer: So, you say ma’am, that the move went missing somewhere around your 5th date?

SSD: That’s right officer.  It was there on the 4th date, all hot and heavy like.  And then on the 5th date, it was just gone.  No where to be seen. [/colored_box]

And like seriously.  I was stumped.  Until he explained it.  Embarassed.  Awkward.  A boy.  I mean really.  Aren’t they all just 12 year old boys on the inside.  I feel like this is a flashpoint episode.  Where they show you the pinnacle moment.  The flashpoint.  At the beginning of the show.  And then super-speed rewind to the beginning.  And show you how it got to that exact moment.  So this is like that.

Super Speed Rewind.

So I can’t lie.  After driving home from my visit with Mega Love.  I was hoping to have a text message or a call from Trucker Joe.  I mean.  We had this amazing date on Tuesday.  And it was now Friday.  And I hadn’t heard anything.  Which isn’t uncommon.  Because we don’t really do much talking in between dates.  And yet.  Every week.  He makes plans.  For a date.  On one of his days off.  So I shouldn’t have been insecure.  And I’m not sure I was.  But I was definitely excited? anxious? impatient? something.

But before I really have time to let any of that grab ahold of me.  He texts.  Saturday morning.  And we make plans for Monday.  And then Monday rolls around and he asks what time is good for [me]?  And I say 730 or 8ish?  And then it gets.  Well.  Er.  Um.  Unsatisfactory.  I’ll come out there this time, so you’ll have to decide.

SCREEEEEEEEEECH!!!! Wait…Hold up…Wha?!?!

See the thing is.  I don’t live alone.  I’ve told you all this before.  He knows this.  Plus.  No lie.  I live in kind of a small town.  So I really don’t like to have people in my “area” and then add to that, the fact that it was raining (aka no beach fun) and there’s not really anything else to do here.  So I was totally like.  What.  The.  Fuck.  But I also know he’s just a nice guy, a gentleman.  So he probably just didn’t want to make me drive all the time.  But even so.  Not gonna happen.

We get it sorted.  He was just being nice.  I basically invite myself over to his place for movies.  I show up around 8 baring gifts of popcorn.  Microwave popcorn.  This turns into an intense conversation about how it’s actually done.  Do you follow the instructions?  Do you count in your head in between pops?  (I should mention way way back when microwaves first really became the norm.  We got one.  And the first thing we made was popcorn.  Burnt to shit.  Like practically a flame.   So Just Sayin’.  I’ve been scarred).  The funny thing is.  On the 4th date.  Conversation was a little.  Uh.  I want to say strained.  But not quite strained.  More just like nervous.  Timid.  Very.  Question.  Answer.  Question.  Answer.  Question.  Answer.  This time.  The conversation was much more banter-like.  Ebb and flow.  Back and forth.  Lob and volley.  Nice.

By the way.  This time I dressed more casual.  Cute new jeans and cute hoodie.  He notices.  Says with an approving smile.  Good.  You look much more comfortable this time.  Wait.  Er.  Um.  Did he just call me “comfortable looking”?  And I could freak out.  Like a chick.  But I know that he’s just a bit hick town.  And that’s cool.  That he’s more concerned that I’m feeling comfortable and good.  And I think.  I’m pretty sure he means.  That I looked.  Good.  But I’m just saying.  Bit.  Weird.

So we sit.  He lets me choose the movie.  I’ve narrowed it to Iron Man and Gran Torino.  He has no preference.  We watch Iron Man.  And for the next 126 minutes.  We sit there.  Like teenagers.  Nervous teenagers.  Teenagers who haven’t kissed.  Only we have.  So.  What.  The.  Fuck.  There is no handholding.  There isn’t even any touching.  The closest thing is eating out of the same popcorn bowl.  Which I eventually put down on the table.  And then around 100 minutes of no kissing.  I pick it back up.  And start to nibble.  Want me to make some more? he says.  No thanks I smile but I reserve the right to change my mind later.  He smiles.  Don’t worry he says.  I was planning to make more for Gran Torino anyways.

Okay.  So let’s just tally this a bit.  A whole movie.  No touching.  No kissing.  That seems to indicate a lack of attraction.  But he wants to watch both movies.  Wants to keep me here.  Wants to prolong the hanging out?  That seems to indicate he likes me.  And I mean.  We have hung out every week since we met.  5 weeks.  5 hang outs.  What.  The.  Fuck.  But I mean.  All non-kissing aside.  I’m still having a really good time.  We’ve been joking a lot.  Laughing a bunch.

So we watch Gran Torino.  116 minutes later.  STILL no fucking kissing.  Still no fucking touching.  And now it’s just the TV playing background noise.  And we’re talking.  And then he turns to me and says…

To Be Continued….His (Hardy) Boys Solve the Case



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

Tuesday. Hot. Sticky. Delicious.


Tuesday.  Hot.  Sticky.  Delicious.

Around noon I get a text message.  Almost Home.  It says.  Trucker Joe.  Keeping me appraised of the situation.  I fucking like that.  Like really like that.  I go to the gym.  Gotta get that body tight.  Text Message.   Gives his Address and call when you’re leaving and I’ll give you directions.  For reference I don’t need directions.  I’m pretty smart.  And ya know.  Know how to use google maps.  But I still like it.  Looking out for me.  Gentleman like.  Well played Trucker JoeWell played.  Plus it literally could not be any easier to get to his place.  Main highway.  Turn left on main street.  Right on other big street.  First right.  And park.  I call I’m here.  And he comes out to get me.  Cute.  Gentlemanly.

I’m wearing black gladiator sandals.  Denim Miniskirt.  White Rocawear-gold-chain-across-the-cleave-did-I-mention-lots-of-cleave-shirt.  Normally this isn’t a daytime wear outfit.  But like I’ve been saying with the weightloss.  Nothing fucking fits anymore.  And with this being the 4th date.  I’m running out of clothes he hasn’t seen.  Luckily A. this outfit looks smokin’ hot so it’ll balance any inappropriateness (though friends have assured me its fine) and B. I’m going shopping on Friday in Seattle so I’ll have new stuff soon.  Plus it’s fucking hot.  Like temperature.  Muggy.  Sticky.  Hot and Sweaty.  So at least.  That’s another excuse.  For a lacking of clothes.

We get inside the townhouse.  chatter chatter chatter.  And then he makes me sort of a liar.  Because before the date he had asked me what I wanted to eat.  And seriously there are like maybe 3 foods I don’t eat.  And what’s the chance that when I said, I’m not a picky eater, anything’ll be fine that he’d pick one of the three (cilantro, ginger (on its own, I’ll eat it if it’s mixed in) and baby anything).  Do you like lamb? he says.  Fuck.  lol.  But the thing is.  I’d eat it.  Just to avoid having to say anything.  Because it’s not a moral decision or anything.  I just don’t really eat it.  He can see this on my face.  We laugh.  Don’t worry he says I got chicken too.  Too cute.  I like a guy that is prepared.

So can you barely take it?  I mean can you barely fucking stand it?  All this chatter about food and shit and you’re reading and thinking like…get to the fucking good stuff chick!  All in good time.  All in good time *wink*.

Back on Track.
So we eat dinner.  It’s good.  Actually it’s really good.  And healthy.  Salad and BBQ.  Yum.  We sit on the couch.  Side by side.  Watching Hell’s Kitchen.  We talk about our weekends.  I mention playing video games with TheHell and Hubs and friend.  I really do like video games.  Especially anything Mario related.  But alas.  All his video games are killing related.  ugh. lol.  such a boy.  Plus no lie.  Video games.  Not conducive to laying the mack down.  And man I want him to lay the mack down.He just got a blu-ray player.  And a stack of discs to match.  Oh and PSizzle.  I forgot to mention his place.  Which is ballin’.  Like seriously.  He is bachelored out.  Just Sayin’.  I know that shit is just superficial and all that.  But still.  This ain’t no basement suite.  Dude is rockin’ out.  And I like it.  Except the leather couches.  Well technically I love leather couches.  But not in the summer.  Fucking sweaty sticky.  In my mini skirt and chubby thighs.  But then again.  That’s why I brought a sweater.  To sit on.  Problem solved.  So like I was saying.  Blu-Ray.  I pick one.  Batman:  The Dark Knight.  Because honestly.  When I saw it before.  In the theatre.  I had a migraine.  So I missed a lot of it.It’s almost dark outside now.  We turn off the lights.  Watch the movie.  Side by side.  On the couch.  Like fucking teenagers.  Highschool kids.  Like before you’d ever had your first kiss.  Not even touching.  So shy.  The movie is good.  Batman always is.  But I spend a great deal of the movie thinking about.  Well.  Kissing him.  Trucker Joe.  Touching him.  Our skin.  Electric.  Wanting to touch.  Feel someone.  Get passed that moment.  Willing him to.  Make a move.  Make a move.  Make a move.Time tick tick ticks past.  The movie is good.  But not better than kissing.  I’m so nervous.  I don’t know if I’m sweating because it’s like a thousand degrees.  Or because I like him.  Want him.  Want to know if he really wants me.  Am hanging on the shirt tails of a moment.  Waiting.  He smells really good.  I excuse myself to go to the bathroom.  And that’s when I see it.  His axe deodarant.  Nice.  I knew it.  And I don’t care what some people say.  I fucking love it.  Swoon.  And there’s his cologne.  I don’t know what it is.  Something I’ve never seen before.  But I’m not about to start examining it.  I know it smells good though.  So so good.  Back downstairs I go.  He paused the movie for me.  So cute.

More moving watching.  More breath holding.  My arm slips down in between us.  sorry I say.  Fuck.  Sorry?  Did I just fucking apologize for touching him.  Ugh.  Loser.  Sigh.  Fuck.  I swear.  In between us.  Is like the slowest moving quicksand in the world.  Slowly pulling our arms.  Our hands.  Closer together.  But it’s going so slow that you can barely notice.  My arm slips or I move or something.  Touch again.  And pull away.  Oh my god what am I doing.  Just touch him already.  Just touch me already.  I can barely stand it.  And then.  It happens.  Like that moment when you hold out your finger to a baby.  Just kind of nudge it against it’s hands.  And then suddenly.  It latches on.  My fingers.  Dangle.  Next to his skin.  And then.  Latch.  And his hand is wrapped around mine.  Touching.  Touching.  Touching.  We’re finally touching. 

I’m not sure hand holding has ever been so sexy.  But it is.  Drool.  Sigh.  Flutter.  The movie plays on.  I think.  I haven’t been paying attention in quite awhile.  I may.  MAY.  Have been too busy staring at his hands.  His crotch.  His every movement that might touch me.  Our legs are stretched out onto the coffee table.  I tilt mine up.  His hand touches my thigh.  Electric.  Maybe he says something.  Maybe he just shifts and it draws my attention.  I can’t remember.  But I look at him.

And we kiss.  Soft.  Sweet.  Delicious.  Delicious.  And I won’t lie.  It’s not perfect.  It’s not flawless.  But kissing never is.  Except.  That.  Our kissing.  Becomes flawless.  Because unlike all the other “somethings” he’s paying attention.  He adapts to me.  He paces to me.  He learns I like the bottom lip suck.  He learns I like it soft and slow at first.  He senses my tongue.  He matches my lips.  He answers the question about kissing.  It’s not a white guy thing.  It’s a bad kissing thing.  And he slays it.  It’s sexy.  It’s sweet.  It’s hot.  It’s delicious.  He’s got normal white boy lips.  But that doesn’t matter.  They’re soft.  They’re skilled.  They’re techniquelicious.

When we finally come up for air.  The credits are rolling.  Movie over.  But not our night.  Because the thing is.  He’s got all night shifts this coming week.  So he needs to stay up as late as possible to get his sleep schedule in check.  Oh I’ll keep you up Trucker Joe.  I got this.  I got this. 

We pick another movie from the stack.  And for reference.  He’s a total guy.  Not that I’m complaining.  Because I like my men to be men.  But I’m Sayin’.  They are all action flicks.  So I pick one.  I’ve never seen before.  The Hurt Locker.  We watch the movie.  We’re taking a breather.  Though our hands are still holding.  Skin still touching.  Hot.  Sticky.  Tuesday.  Delicious.

The movie is.  Okay.  Little bit slow.  About half way through.  I hear his breathing.  Get a bit.  Deeper.  Aww poor baby.  So tired.  He had a really long weekend.  But I gotta do my job.  So I shift a bit.  Razz him a bit.  For sleeping.  Make him smile.  Wake him up.  Back to the movie.  I’m starving.  I’ve been drinking a ton of water.  But it’s not really helping that much.   It’s a little after 1am.  I’m seriously hungry.  My stomach is fucking growling.  I tell him.  More out of embarassment (in case he hears it) than out of wanting to eat something.  Oh.  Do you want something to eat.  I have yogurt or special K bars.  Can I just say how cute it is that he pays attention so well to what I say and what’s going on with me that he knows to have healthy snacks on board.  I mean seriously.  Golden.  But I turn him down.  Thank him.  I’m going to hold off.  Um.  There’s also salad left, might be a bit soggy now *laughs*.

Naw.  I say.  I don’t want to have salad breath.  I plan on having some more making out later.  Sexy smile.  He smiles back.  Big smile.  I’m hoping I’m getting points for balls, wit and cuteness.  And then I’m upstairs to the bathroom.  Hopefully he’s checking out my bum.  On the walk down.  I catch him staring at the ladies.  Bouncing.  As they tend to do.  Down stairs.  LOL.  When I’m out in public.  And can’t hold them down.  That’s right baby.  Take a good look.  These ladies are for you.

We watch more movie.  And then he makes his move again.  And this time.  It starts soft and sweet.  And then moves right into hot and heavy.  sigh.  swoon.  catch my breath.  delicious.  Now normally I wouldn’t get into the deets.  But I promised.  To make this one.  A little less kid-friendly.  A little less PG-13.  And I’m going to.  So if this is TMI.  Stop reading now.  But don’t get too excited.  It doesn’t get X-Rated.   I swear.

I like stages.  Because the thing is.  Once you bang.  That’s it.  And it’s wonderful.  But you can’t go back.  You can’t go back to just making out.  Or just groping on the couch.  And even if you did.  Even if you were a couple just making out on a couch for one night.  Because you had decided not to go any further.  It wouldn’t be the same.  Because you can’t unknow things.  You can’t unsee each other naked.  You can’t get that mystery back.  You can’t get that feeling back.  And that’s fine.  Because banging.  Is good stuff.  But still.  There’s no reason not to savor the stages.  And I like stages.  I like to savor.  So that being said.  With my love for stages.  The fact that I didn’t even know FOR SURE that we’d be getting to first base on this date.  And of course.  Lindsay’s Law.  I didn’t put on the sexy red lacies.  Plus.  I was wearing spandex shorts under my skirt.  Because PSizzle I’m not the best at sitting like a lady.  That and ya know.  I had them pulled like up to my bra.  To keep that tummy tucked.  For as long as possible.  LOL.  Like spanks.  Until it’s time to get naked.  Which on this date.  It wasn’t yet.  Though I won’t lie.  I had the lacies.  In my purse.  Just in case.  I had a change of mind.

Back on Track.
So like I said.  It’s hot and heavy.  His kisses are my kisses.  He tongue moves like my tongue moves.  We’re twins.  We’re mirrors.  In sync when it’s right.  Opposite when it’s better.  He tastes like awesome sauce.  He smells like boy and smiles.  I’m melting.  I’m melting.  Swoon.  I’m melting.  He pounces further.  His hand slides up my thigh.  My inner thigh.  I push it away.  I giggle a bit.  I tell him with my eyes.  And a little bit my words.  I like stages.  He gets it.  He’s not getting that tonight.  I’ve got shorts on underneath my skirt I say.  Because I don’t want him to think these are some form of granny panties.  And then it just comes out.  I say it.  But I swear it was cute and sexy.  I swear.  When I said it.  It sounded seductive and alluring.  I put cuter panties on for that.  When you’re getting some.  You’ll know.  I’ll have the sexy panties on.  You should have seen his eyes light up.

But he’s fucking flawless.  It doesn’t faze.  He is unfazed.  Moves back to outer thigh.  He’s happy with what he’s getting.  He likes me.   He respects me.  I feel it in his touch.  I taste it in his mouth.  I can feel his heart pounding in his chest.  I.  want.   you you.  I.  want.   you you.  I.  want.   you you.  My heart pounding back.  I can feel it in my lady bits.  Swoon.

I don’t really know how to describe what happens next.  Because well.  It’s not what I’m normally into.  It strays from my regular fantasies (fix link).  It’s the oddest thing.  Mostly just odd for me.  I think normal people dig this.  But for me.  For the Summer of Boys (fix link).  When I just want my men to be men.  My man to manhandle me.  It’s novel.  It’s new.  That I liked it.  Just Sayin’.  We’re still on the couch.  But he’s sort of moved.  To like right in front of me.  But he’s close.  And we’re still kissing.  And sure enough.  He’s copping a feel with one hand.  But it’s the other hand.  The one that’s sort of behind my head.  That I’m thinking about.  Because it’s not all mixed up in the curls.  It’s not going in for a tug.  It’s not controlling.  It’s.  It’s.  It’s.

Supportive.  Like.  He’s got me.  He’s just totally got me.  Like I could just let go completely.  And he’s got me.  My head in his hands.  Strong.  Man.  Hands.  And it’s the sweetest thing.  And sexy too.  Sweet and sexy.  That he’s got me.  Wow.  This from a “something” is interesting enough.  But that I like it.  That’s a whole other thing.

And then we’re back to hot and heavy.  I figure it’s time to start a little exploration of my own.  Especially since no lie.  I really enjoy he’s made no attempt to get my hand to certain places.  Boys.  Take note.  In the long run.  You’re going to get so much more.  If you don’t rush me.  I’m guessing I’m not the only chick this is true for.  Just Sayin’.  So my hand moves.  Down his chest.  Till I hit waistband.  And then I play with it a bit.  Draw a line around this edge.  Then a line that way.  And then down.  Not inside.  I’m keeping to my stages.

Because I’ve learned.  That once inside.  It’s hand job time.  LOL.  And I’m preserving my stages.  There will none of that tonight.  What he’ll pay for in blue balls tonight.  Will be rewarded in the future.  So I move my hand.

I should mention.  That.  Garbage Man was not huge.  Frankly.  Just average.  Intelligence Officer was above average in length but just so so in girth.  Twitter Guy was a total fail all around.  Lindsay’s Law was too.  So you can imagine.  Now that I’ve got this guy.  That I kinda like.  But who’s been taking it slow.   I’m worried.  Like really worried.  That he is.  Well.  Going to well.  Disappoint.  And I know size isn’t everything and all that.  But still.  I was fucking terrified.  That mother nature would not have bestowed upon him.  The things that I like.  Girth.  Length.  Just Sayin’.  Plus.  Even if size is not an issue.  What if he turns out like Linsday’s Law and even when hard.  Is never really.  Hard.

Back on Track.
So like I said.  I move my hand.  Down.  On the outside.  But down.  And my fears.  So.  Definitely.  Unfounded.  There is no need for concern.  I assure you.  I.  Assure.  You.  I practically yelled out touchdown!  Okay well I didn’t.  But.  I thought it.  So while he explored my lady lumps.  I watched the trailer.  The preview.  The coming attractions.  I’m saying.  I’m very excited to see this movie.  His Movie.  Like.  I’d stand in line over night.  The movie poster is that good.  Just Sayin’.

This goes on for quite awhile.  But somewhere around 230am we come up for air.  Or more.  I come up for air because if we don’t.  I’m pretty sure a bad decision is in the mix.  And by bad.  I don’t mean fatal or anything.  But like I said.  I like stages.  I want stages.  I want to go slow with Trucker Joe.  I want to enjoy this.  So I call it a night.  Time for me to go I say.  And he says I’ll walk you out.  I think he means.  Like to the door.  But he doesn’t.  He means to the car.  Swoon.  This nice guy will definitely not be finishing last with me, Just Sayin’.  He’s racking up the points left and right.  He opens my door.  And then.  More kissing.  Sexy in the street kissing.  Can’t wait till next time kissing.  Okay well just gimme a call I say.  He waits.  Makes sure the car starts.  Makes sure I get off okay.  I do.  And I spend the whole drive home.  Beaming.  Giddy.  Beaming.  Swooning.  Awesome Saucing.


Third Date: Ask and Ye Shall Receive (Part Two)


[dropcap]Part Two [/dropcap]of this Saga, Continued From Third Date:  Ask and Ye Shall Receive (Part One)

10:30pm.  I’m home.  After my 3rd date with Trucker Joe.  And I’m thinking.  What.  The.  Fuck.  Get some water.  Think.  Sit on bed.  ThinkI should’ve asked.  Chicken.  Chicken.  ChickenWhat.  The.  Fuck.  I’ll just ask now.  now.  now.  Start to text.  Delete text.  Fuck.  Is this like Sex and the City with Carrie and Aiden and “Are We Sluts?”  Start to text.  I mean this just doesn’t make sense.  It HAS been 3 dates.  And we all know I’m the hottest thing next to the stove top I just told you was hot don’t touch it…I JUST told you it was hot.  But then again.  It has ONLY been 3 dates.  Maybe he’s just a gentleman.  Put Phone Down!  Sit on bed.  Think.  Fidget.  Fidget.  FUCK!!!  Okay.  Fuck this noise.  He’s not my soulmate.  Worst that can happen is he either says, no I’m not attracted or he is but thinks I’m retarded for asking.  Best case scenario.  I find out what the fuck is up.  And we all know.  I like to be in the know.  Just Sayin’.  So I text.  Letter for letter.  Here is exactly how lame I am (please try not mock me too much in the comments.)

Me:  U still up?
Him:  Yup I am…what’s up?
Me:  I probably should’ve said something earlier tonight but well lol I’m shy but I have to ask.  are you attracted to me?
Him:  Ya I am…why are you asking?
Me:  Um…well (lol now I feel stupid) I guess just cause…um…u haven’t made any moves…not that there’s anything wrong with that but also when we first met u kinda also talked about looking for friends so I guess I was just a bit uncertain
Him:  It’s not that I don’t want to…I just like you a lot (probably too much lol) but I just don’t have committment in me right now and if things were to happen you might end up not liking me.

So I know this sounds  a bit weird but here’s some missing info.  On our first date he asked me if I needed exclusivity in someone I was dating?  And I was like no.  (funny sidebar:  I relayed this quesstion to my mother and before I could even get my answer out, she was all like, of course not lol and her and my dad have been together for 40 years.  Just Sayin’.)  But seriously I was like, no.  Some chick asks you out on Friday night.  You go ahead and take that date.  Go have some fun.  Now.  I don’t need to know about it.  You just go ahead and keep that info to yourself (fix link).  And I most certainly won’t ask. I mean Christ.  I get it.  You were married for 10 years-ish.  And not great 10 years.  And then the first chick you date is the same age (and aka ready for babies and marriage etc. like right now!.  The chick he dated right after his divorce (and before me obviously) was planning their future after only two months.  And when he called it quits.  She was all like “well you shouldn’t have slept with me blah blah blah“.  So I get it.  And the thing is.  I’m not looking for committment either.

Him:  U still talking to me???
Me:  lol sorry – world’s slowest texter here.
Me:  Hmm so is it just a case of you not wanting me to get hurt and/or get pissed and stop talking to you?
Him:  I don’t want either of those to happen
Me:  Well neither thing is likely to happen because

a.  I’m a grown up and can look out for myself
b.  my heart is not aiming at committment
c.  I know where you are committment wise
d.  I’m awesome!

Him:  You ARE awesome! lol
Him: Believe me there are things I would like to do to you I mean with you 🙂

And that’s where I’m going to be stop the exact relay of our texting.  Because it gets a little grown up.  Okay well not that grown up.  But considering we haven’t even held hands.  It was grown up for us.  And honestly it’s just private and I don’t want to share it. lol.  love ya though.  But I will say.  It is clear.  He’s attracted to me.  No doubt.  He has plans to be out of town for the (BC) long weekend.  Actually from Thursday till Tuesday morning.

And then he asks.  Me over for dinner.  On Tuesday night.  A whole week away.  He’ll cook me dinner.  At his place.  I’ll get to see his digs.  He’ll be putting in effort.  We’ll have alone time.  Fuck this is working out.  Top Notch.  Top.  Fucking.  Notch.  OMG I’m nervous already.  And inCREDibly excited!



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

Third Date: Ask and Ye Shall Receive (Part One)

[dropcap]Perhaps[/dropcap] it’s a case of being careful what you ask for.  Because if I recall.  If I recall correctly.  It was me.  Recently talking about how I want dates to take me “out to do fun things”.  And it was also me.  Lamenting against boys who “a. kiss me in public” and “b. pounce way too soon.”  And here I am.  Getting exactly what I asked for.  Trucker Joe.  Taking me on active dates.  Not kissing in public.  No pouncing.

So the weekend passes in fabulous fashion and Tuesday arrives.  Trucker Joe and I have our 3rd date.

This is my first 3rd date since I started this roller coaster of awesome sauce where I am the SHE in the scenario of the Somethings She Dated.  Just Sayin’.  Take notes.  This will be on the exam.

Back on Track.
I have duly noted all the advice about him likely being shy and how I should just make the move.  So we meet and I hop into his big truck again.  And we’re off to the driving range.  It’s hot.  The temperature I mean.  It’s so fucking hot and humid that I swear my shins are sweating.  And by swear I mean.  I look down and there actually fucking sweating.  Okay.  More likely it’s a combo of moisturizing and fucking humidity (it’s hot and the ocean is moments away.  Just Sayin’).  Oh and here’s some more awesome.  Turns out.  You (and by you I mean me) sweat a lot when hitting golf balls.  All that bending over and trying not to show your goodies and thank god you wore shorts under your mini skirt and why are you wearing a mini skirt to hit golf balls? and its because nothing fits with all the weightloss and fuck he’s seen the rest of your outfits that do fit and keeping your boobs in your bra and putting the ball on the tee and trying to look cute and hitting the ball and trying not to be a total spazz.  That shit takes effort.  I mean like excuse yourself to go to the loo and towel off effort.  But here’s the redeemer.  He’s sweating too.  But in a very manly sexy way.  And well.  He appears to not even notice my sweat.  Whether because he’s a gentleman or just thinks I’m sexy doing whatever.  Doesn’t matter.  Because it’s awesome.

And PS…I’m not so great at golf.  Putting balls in my mouth?  sure.  I’m a rockstar.  But whacking balls in a straight line hundreds of metres away.  hmm.  not so much.  But this works out perfectly because I was planning to be all could you show me how and aren’t I demure and cute and teach me something instructor hottie ooh just like this?  So I didn’t even have to fake it.  Because I needed the instruction.  Apparently my boobs will be preventing me from becoming Tiger’s newest competition (and aid me in becoming his newest conquest…jokes).  But I’m not going to lie.  I’m glad he was noticing.  Score one for he’s attracted to me and is just shy.

Golf is over.  He suggests coffee.  And I know you’re probably thinking.  Why not drinksBecause I haven’t sipped the sauce in going on 2 years and 8 months now.  That’s why.  We get coffee.  I make no reach for the wallet.  I made no reach earlier at the driving range.  I’m not going to lie.  At $45 for a pedi, cost of makeup, hair products, perfume, shaving, waxing, special underoos, expensive lip gloss, and the fact that I’m likely (TMI WARNING) to put his dick in my mouth long before I let him put my lady bits in his.  And I think I deserve at least a couple coffees.  Just Sayin’.  I mean shit.  I’m not shotgunning Gin here, a coffee or two is hardly asking for anything.

The thing is though.  Starbucks is closing.  It’s only 830pm.  Guess we chose the wrong one.  But no biggie.  We sit outside.  And for those in the White Rock area.  Go ahead and leave your doors unlocked.  Clearly not a high crime area.  They leave the patio furniture out.  Unlocked.  All night long.  Bizarre.  Anyways.  We sit and chat for like 2 hours.  It’s cute.  It’s adorable.  It’s interesting.  I have my legs positioned in the sexiest (read slimmest and most toned) viewing angle the whole time.  Just Sayin’.

But then the mosquitoes come.  So we leave.  Back to my car.  And that’s when…

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

Nope…Still wait for it.

We hug.  Shut The Fuck Up?!!?!  I hear you say.  And I know.  I sat there.  Thinking.  Do it.  Do it.  Fucking lean over and kiss him.  Hold his hand.  Fuck.  Do.  Something.  DO.  Something.  Do SOMETHING!

But alas.  I’m chicken shit.  And it became abundantly clear that I am inexperienced in the laying of the mac down.  Here I thought I was a pro.  But maybe I was drunk.  Or maybe I’ve just never really done it before (which seems most likely).  But the boys just always beat me to the punch.  I’ve never needed to.  I think ever.  So I get in my car.  And drive home.  An awesome date.  But no kiss.   no kiss.  no kiss.  seriously?  no kiss.

To Be Continued…In Part Two…Ask and Ye Shall Receive (Part Two)


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

Why Hasn’t He Kissed Me Yet?

[dropcap]So, he hasn’t kissed me.[/dropcap]  Yet.  That much is clear.  I’ve definitely noticed.  I’m quite aware.  But I didn’t say it in last post because I wanted an unbiased response.  Sure I knew you guys would notice the lack of a kiss.  But I wanted to leave you unbiased to share your opinions about why.  And frankly I’m shocked.  In the best possible way.  Because not a single one of you seem to think he just isn’t into me.  Only I’m not totally sold.  Because maybe you’re just pulling yes-men duty and saying what you think I want to hear?  Or you think I’m so totally awesome that you can’t imagine a single person not wanting to jump these bones?  Or perhaps the evidence really does suggest he’s just a nice guy…waiting…for a good moment.

I’ve had two dates with Trucker Joe.  And still.  Not so much as a hand hold.  3 hugs.  That’s right.  I’m officially counting hugs right now.  Awesome.  But don’t worry.  All is not lost.  I have some theories.  It could one of these.  It could be a combination.  It could be all of them.  Let’s get to evaluating.

Positive Theories

1.  He was planning to lay some contact on me during our last date.  Preferably at the end of our walk out to the point.  But with the charming euro-gays, the old ladies, and the drunk teens all equalling a total lack of privacy he thought better to wait (which honestly was a great call if this theory pans out).

2.  Both dates have been of the casual friendly vibe (aka short and sweet, full sunlight, very public) and he’s waiting for a more romantic (aka sexy) moment.

3.  He is divorced and the first chick he dated after the split ended up being very future-oriented and when he wasn’t (after only 2 mnths geesh chicks!) she was piiiiisssseeed! (this is not part of the theory this part is fact).  So he’s moving slow and taking things easy.  Possibly under the guise of protecting me but more likely to protect himself.

4.  He’s simply old-fashioned.  He’s being a gentleman.  He’s waiting.

5.  Similar to #1 and #2 but essentially just the fact that our second date was cut short

6.  And I find this one the most interesting.  I’ve always held the notion that people have a million sides.  I personally am somewhere around 400 different people (in a totally non-schizophrenic way).  But the thing of the thing is.  I haven’t really shown him many of these.  In fact.  There’s a whole side.  That I offered up to Intelligence Officer.  And let Twitter Guy push me towards.  That I haven’t even hinted at.  Trucker Joe has no idea.  Not a clue.  And here’s just a sample roster.  Of that side of me.  That I haven’t brought out for him…

Sluttmazing Susan
Sex Maniac Samantha-Marie
Life of the Party Lolita
Adventurer Addison
Bawdy Betty
Hilarious Hilary
Late-night Lulu
Hotel Room Heather-Ray

Because on our dates.  I’ve been in Sundresses.  And strapless bras (not really relevant to the average person but worth mentioning as to insinuate I was not showcasing the cleave if you will).  I’ve been in day time makeup (no smokey eyes, but cute and peachy and innocent).  We’ve talked about friends and work and family.  For all TJ knows.  I’m freakin’ Betty from the ‘Burbs and by ‘burbs…I mean…the ‘burbs of the 50s…June Cleaver style.  So this could be another reason he hasn’t layed the mack down if you will.

But then again.  It’s entirely possible.  The reason.  Stems from a Negative Theory.  Ugh.  No one likes those.


Negative Theories

1.  He’s not attracted to me.  (Ugh.  Nobody likes this one)

2.  He just wants to be friends.

But then again.  Our date was on Tuesday.  And he said we’d talk before the weekend.  And low and behold I got a text on Friday.  And I swear it’s like he’s taking notes.  On our conversations.  Because the dude remembers shit.  I had told him about going to a “Southern” type restaurant with my friend on Wednesday.  Collard Greens were discussed.  And then Friday rolled around

How were the collard greens?  Worth going back for? 🙂  Have a great weekend.

So maybe.  He does like me.  Maybe.  I do have some kissing in my future.  Though I should specify.  I mean kissing with Trucker Joe.  Because this weekend.  I already got some other kissing.  True Story.

Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One Something at a Time

Second Dates: What’s Missing From This Picture?


[dropcap]I feel[/dropcap] like I need to give a speech.  A preface.  To my readers.  My oh so lovely readers.  Because I worry.  About your hearts.  More than I’m concerned about my own.  I’m worried you’re going to be let down.  Like Trucker Joe really lifted the bar on the first date.  And now when you find out he’s just a normal guy and I`m not ready to sign my life away.  You’re going to be disappointed.  That it was’t the soul mate love you were hoping for.  But then again.  Maybe all your excitement is just that.  Excitement.  The same way that when you’re friend tells you she bought an amazing new dress.  That’s it’s friggin’ gorgeous eeeek!  And that’s all it is.  A comment.  After that you’ve forgotten about the dress and moved on.  I mean you’re happy for her.  But that’s the end of it.  You haven’t hung your hopes on the dress or anything.  Yeah.  That’s right.  Sounds good.  So let’s carry on then.

So when I last left you, I had just had a 1st date with Trucker Joe.  He clearly wanted to hang out again, though he expressed that with words and not kisses.  He had mentioned something about being off work on Tuesday.  Two days later I get a text message.  Good Luck Tonight.  Knock ‘Em Dead.  He was wishing me luck on my first of a series of playoff games for the weekend.  Nicely done Trucker Joe.  Nicely done.  Points for remembering.  Points for making contact at an appropriate time.

Detour.  Because here’s the thing boys don’t seem to always know.  Sure enough.  You don’t want to seem too eager.  Texting and calling constantly.  Not great.  But also not great?  Waiting too long.  Don’t let that window close.  There’s a small gap where I’m blinded by the success of a first date.  And that is when you need to strike.  Fast and hard.  Make it count boys.  Make it count.

Back on Track.  The weekend goes by.  We did not win the playoffs lol.  I did however, manage to snag Playoff MVP for my team…woohoo!  Sunday night.  My phone is fucking up again (shocker!).  I send numerous texts to my softball buddies.  Only about 40% are received.  Fuck. Me.  I send TheHell some tester texts.  They appear to go through.  I risk it.  Don’t ask why I don’t just call.  I don’t fucking know.  I’m retarded like that.  So anyways.  I send a text.  Blah blah blah something cute I’m so adorable blah blah blah.  He responds back repeating something I had written on Friday about unhittable strikes.  Fucking top notch listening (reading) Trucker Joe.  Keep it up and you’ll have this (me) in the bag.

He texts that he’ll call.  He calls (I never hear it ring) and leaves a voicemail.  There’s a lot of texting and calls (to my phone) going straight to voicemail.  Fucking phone.  Ugh.  We eventually connect.  Make plans for Tuesday night.  What do you want to do? he asks.  I’m lame and respond umm…I don’t know and then try to save it with I’m pretty much up for anything.  He suggests going to Crescent Beach.

Detour.  The thing about Crescent Beach is it’s pretty big.  And there’s no one parking lot.  Frankly there’s barely a parking lot.  It’s mostly just a ton of side streets.  So he suggests we meet at this park and ride thing and drive together from there.  Since I’ve decided he’s not a serial killer I want to ride in that Big Sexy Pick Up Truck, I’m totally onboard with this idea.

Back on Track. We meet.  Using the oh shit handle and a running start I manage to hoist myself up into the biggest truck I’ve ever gotten into (seriously where’s the step up thing?).  I get in.  I actually mention the lack of step up thing at some point and he mentions that it’s not like he really needs it a 6’1.  (I knew he was taller than 6’0 and I honestly wouldn’t be shocked if he was just “guessing” and was closer to 6’2 or 6’3).  But I digress.  So we drive to the beach.  Everything is good.


Yeah.  Take a moment.  Brace yourself.  Because there’s an except.  Okay it’s not that serious.  But it did cause the cutting short of the date.  Long story short.  He’s looking after his married friends’ cat.  But just before they left.  Something’s wrong.  Sick cat or something.  So instead of having him drop by.  They’ve got another friend to stay there.  Only he has a key.  The other friend does not.  They say the other friend will pick the key up after work (5ish).  She does not.  She doesn’t even call till like 630pm.  He’s already on his way to see me.  He says he’s got plans.  But of course he’s not a total douche (though frankly I would have been more of a douche).  He says the best he can do is 9:30pm.  So it’s not the end of the world.  But of course, this means our date has a time limit.  It will definitely get cut short.  I don’t reveal that this is sucky.  I’m all smiles and breezy.  We’ll just make the best of what time we’ve got.  (who is this chick lol I’m sayin’ right?)

So we talk and park.  We walk and talk.  I’m wearing the cutest short sun dress (please note this students, it will come up again at a future date.)  He’s looking adorable again.  Though.  This time.  I remember to look at his shoes.  Something I neglected on the first date.  I was so blown away by his clothes lol!  So they’re…okay.  Allow me to elaborate.  They were clean.  They were new.  They were just black running shoes.  They weren’t addidas shelltoes.  Anybody else would have thought they were perfectly fine.  Even good.  Obviously I’m judgemental and particular.  But I can let it go.  Nobody’s perfect lol!

So more walking and talking.  He asks if I want a coffee or anything from one of the cafes.  I thank him but decline.  It’s actually a bit windy.  And my earrings are clinking around.  Hair is everywhere.  I’m having enough difficulty just keeping my little sweater thing on my shoulders.  Plus I’m clumsy.  Holding a coffee would be like the 10th plate.  Juggler drops everything.

He asks if I’m okay to walk to the point.  I am and we do.  The place is pretty busy.  I get the feeling he was hoping we’d be alone out there.  But alas.  The 4 underage kids drinking on the right and the constant parade of walking elder couples kind of ruined that.  But we sat and chatted anyway.  Lots of giggles.

But I won’t lie.  He is a guy.  And by guy I mean child.  There’s lots of talks about toys (dirt bikes).  But there’s also other good chat.  In fact, at some point he says something so witty that I laugh out loud.  I mean like eruption and pat on the back kind of laughter.  It was good shit.  Alas, I don’t remember it though.  Time speeds by and it’s time to walk back.

We get back to the truck.  He goes to my door first.  Opens it.  Waits till I’m all tucked in.  Closes door.  Swoon.  We drive back to my car.  More talking.  We’re there.  More talking.  He mentions something about an out-of-town-friend being in town and the boys going somewhere like Kelowna or Victoria the coming weekend.  As I’m getting out of the truck I say something like okay well if I don’t talk to you before the weekend, have a great time with the boys.  And he responds with certainty and confidence oh we’ll definitely talk before the weekend.

I jump out (remember no step…I’m not exaggerating).  I literally jump out.  Luckily I have little shorts under my dress.  Otherwise I think I would’ve shown him my ass on the fly out.  I get in my car.  He waits till I’ve started my car.  (I actually find this kind of dreamy that he double checks everything is in working order and I’m set to go home before he leaves).

What’s missing from this picture?  Feel free to speculate amongst yourselves.

Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One Something at a Time


Trucker Joe: Starbucks Coffee Date


[dropcap]So, like I was saying…[/dropcap]

It was super sunny. I Had my shades on. I was walking across the Starbucks parking lot. And I just kind of sensed someone was watching me.  But being the daydreaming space cadet super focused person that I am.  I just kept on.  Possibly a little more boobs-out-tummy-in-think-hot-be-hot-thoughts than normal but whatever.  And then I hear it.

He says, Something I can’t remember but cute and attention getting.

So I turn.  And there he is.  Getting out of possibly the sexiest black pickup truck I have ever seen.


Though I date boys not their cars.  I think a vehicle says a lot about the person.  Obviously not always accurately.  But still.  The Volvo I drive.  Certainly speaks to my uber-safety rule following ways.  Mega Love drove a Jetta (suped up etc. but still a Jetta).  Garbage Man drove some sort of small girly car.  Intelligence Officer, a yellow pickup truck (mix of masculine and goofiness pretty much spot on).  Twitter Guy drove a station wagon.  Back in the days of being gangsta (I’m only partly joking) I wanted my boys in Escalades.  But these days.  With my new found love for super masculine white guys.  I don`t always say it.  But I’ve got *crossies* for trucks.

Back on Track.

So there he is.  Stepping down out of the truck.  And.

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

He is sooo much hotter than his photos.  He looks younger (than his photos, not me).  He’s a babe.  I’m not sure he’d be everybody’s cup of tea.  But I think he’s pretty friggin’ sexy.  No lie.  And really.  It only matters what I think (in this instance).  Now for the clothes.  The attire.  The wrapping paper.  Is he hawiian shirt guy or david beckham?

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

He looks like he just stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch commercial.  No lie.  He’s wearing a polo shirt that’s sort of like those short-sleeved rugby shirts that A&F are so famous for.  Sexy.  He’s wearing cargo shorts.  At the perfect length.  But enough about the superficial.  Did I mention he’s tall.  His profile says 6’0 but honestly he seemed taller because I had to go on my tippy toes to get my head above his shoulder for our hug (which at 5’7 says something).  And yes I hug.  Because I’m certainly not shaking my date’s hand.  That’s way too business-meeting.  And I can’t not have some kind of physical greeting.  It’s just not normal.  Plus no lie.  Good excuse to check the cologne.  And boy smelled gooooood.  Just sayin’.  True Story.

So we go inside.  He holds the door.  And not beccause it just flows.  He specifically opened it.  For me.  Very cute.  I order.  He orders.  He pays.  I hit the loo.  One, I really have to go and Two this is his chance to gracefully ditch just in case.  I come back.  He hasn’t ditched.  He’s got my drink.  Outside okay? he asks.  I nod and smile.

We sit outside.  For the next two hours.  Conversation flows.  The sun lowers.  Laughter.  Happiness.  Finding out interesting things.  Revealing interesting things.  I may.  MAY.  have been a bit nervous in the first little bit.  And instead of saying Whiterock.  I may.  MAY.  have said White Wock.  But other than that it was pretty fuckin’ flawless.

We laughed.  A lot actually.  Somewhere around the 3/4 point of our date, he mentioned that he would like to see me again.  Quarterback drops back, sees his man in the distance and makes the throw.  I would definitely like to see him again.  Touchdown.  The date continues.  We’ve been done our coffees for awhile.

We get up to leave.  Throw out our cups.  Start walking to our cars.  His is much closer (I park a bit away, don’t want my doors dinged).  As we’re nearing his car he says I’ll walk you to your car.  Very cute.  Chivalry is so manly.  We get to my car.  We hug again.  No kiss.  (but we’ll get to that in a moment).  He says again that he’d like to see me again.  In a very manly way no doubt.  But.  And here’s the awesome sauce.  He says this and then says, give me a call.  Like not only do I get to have the certainty that he would like to see me again, but I get to be the one holding the power (aka not waiting by the phone) aka feeling super good.  Well played Trucker Joe.  Well played.  He leans down to open the door.

Take a moment.  To fully take in that sentence.  The two parts of brilliance there.

Leans down.  As in.  Tall enough that to open the door he has to lean a bit.

Opens door.  As in.  Total gentleman.  And again.  Not just because it’s convenient.  I mean.  His hand is there.  Ready to assisst a lady.  While I’m still fumbling with the unlock button.  Sexy.

He waits for me to get my dress all inside the car and sorted.  Seat belt on.  One last smile.  And close door.

The Date Was Perfection.  He was the date whisperer.  The real date whisperer.  The souped up.  Enhanced.  There’s an app for that.  Brand new idate 2.0.  Whispering the crying-baby-worries I had in my head.  Touchdown.


Now back to that kiss.  So here’s the thing.  About first kisses.  About me and first kisses.  About me and kisses in public.  About any form of public displays.  I’ve said it before.  I’ll say it again.  I’m not a fan of the public displays of affection.  With first dates.  We were at Starbucks.  A busy parking lot.  It was still light out.  I love that he didn’t try to kiss me.  I don’t doubt that he wanted to/will want to.  But I love love love that he didn’t.  I won’t lie.  The second hug.  The end of the meeting hug.  Was longer and deliciously tighter than the hello hug.  It was good.  Ahhhh.  Good date.  Nothing else to say about it.

Back on Track.

When I got home later that night.  I had a message from him.  Had a great time meeting you tonight.  Can’t wait to do it again.

Me too. Trucker Joe.  Me too. 

(Phonecall to TheHell this morning).  So from now on THIS is the date.  That erases the memory of the date with Tedski.  If I’m ever scared/scarred and nervous again.  You just remind me of this.  Tell me about this date again.  And I’ll be set.

*Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One Something at a Time*

Online Dating and First Date Jitters

[dropcap]At 3pm yesterday[/dropcap] I felt sick to my stomach.  Nerves.  Dread.  Trepidation.  4 hours till my meet and greet with Trucker Joe.  And I was a ball of anxiety and worry.  I blame Tedski (fix link).  I blame the date that scarred me for all the other boys.  The worst date ever.


Within two days of being back on Plenty of Fish, Trucker Joe messaged me.  He thought I was funny.  He looked manly.  Into dirt biking and camping.  Beaches and fun.  He had a lot to say.  I didn’t have to hand-hold the conversation in our messages.  It just flowed.  He was enthusiastic.  He seemed happy.  He had nice teeth.  He was tall.  He had 2 photos up.  1 – 3/4 face visible shot.  1 – dirtbikes.

Detour from the Detour.

Boys are not good at taking photos.  Barbie looked worse.  Garbage Man looked much better.  Tedski looked much worse.  Intelligence Officer looked much much better.  Twitter Guy looked better than his worst photos and worse than his best photo.  So with that being said.  There are 3 categories of attraction when it comes to online dating and me.  The “not-at-alls” who I delete, The “maybes” who seem likely there could be attraction especially pending some more photos and/or in person.  Maybes qualify for dates assuming their personalities don’t suck.  And finally the “babes” who still have the potential to disappoint (read: Barbie).

Back on Track.

I liked Trucker Joe’s personality.  But that being said.  These days, with 5 dates under my belt, I know how misleading photos and messages can be and thus prefer to meet sooner rather than later.  Which can mean that less things get asked.  Less is known.  Which is great if the date is good because than you’re left with lots to talk about.  Horrible if the date is bad and you’re like fuck! how did I even agree to this?  But I digress.  The conversation led to plans flawlessly.  He asked if I was a Starbucks or Timmy Ho’s girl?  I said, Starbucks but as a student I’m often a foldgers hazelnut instant at home coffee girl.  He said, He’d love to buy me a starbucks, as he’s not on a student budget 😉.  Phone numbers and text messages exchanged.  Date set.  Wednesday night.  Last night.


The thing about the date with Tedski (fix link) was.  It left a horrible taste in my mouth.   One that had me generalizing.  Scared.  Scarred.  About older guys.  About guys who have just led completely different lives than me.  About guys who have very different levels of education than I do.  About guys in certain types of employment (see “I Thought I Was a Job Snob” coming soon).

Back on Track.

So there I was at 3pm yesterday.  Nerves. Dread. Trepidation.  But not about myself.  Because in the words of TurnJacson I already know what I’m bringing to the table.  So I wasn’t worried about me.  But FUCK was I worried about him.

Would he look like his photos?
What would he wear?  Would he be in Dad jeans or something equally awful and old and awful?
Would his sense of humor be like Tedski’s?
Would he be a total loser?
Would he be inappropriate or weird?
Would he embarrass me? (remember this is a small town/city/area)

But a phonecall from TheHell.  A pep talk.  And I went.  Drove to Starbucks.  Parked.  (turns out I drove past him and he recognized me right away which I think speaks to having good valid photos on my profile :P).  Got out of the car and started walking in.  I wore the magic dress.  I know most people said jeans and a cute shirt but shit son, it’s summer and way too hot for long jeans (and that’s all I have right now with not wanting to buy new clothes that soon wouldn’t fit).  So it was super sunny.   Had my shades on.  And as I was walking across the parking lot.  And I just kind of sensed someone was watching me.

To Be Continued….

*Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One Something at a Time*