Death By Plague: The Garbage Man’s Demise

Dating Mistakes

[dropcap]I had a friend[/dropcap] who dated this guy several times. Things were going great, they really connected, they had great sex, things were off without a hitch and then one day he tells her he’s going over to the Island (Victoria, BC). Days go by, followed by weeks and eventually she tells the story of the man who fell overboard, “drowned at sea” if you will.

When I tell my story of the Garbage Man, I will attribute the demise of our ill-fated romance to his death by Plague. You didn’t know the plague still exists in these modern times? Shocking I know, but alas there can be no other explanation.  Um…hello!?!?! I’m Hottie McHotterson – betta recognize!  For real though, it’s been almost three weeks since our first date.  If I can get past my six year relationship with relationshippy with some counselling, closure sex but more importantly 3 months without regular contact….how long does this guy think it’ll take me to get over a first date?  Boy please!  And yes, I know what you’re thinking, give the dude a break, he might actually be sick.  Yes, this is true but I’m an insensitive bitch who wants what I want when I want it (though I keep these tidbits of crazy hidden from him).  Veruca Salt taught me what’s up!  That and I’m not the hugest fan of putting myself out there…nobody puts baby in the corner…nobody makes SSD look a fool!

Seriously though…I’m super pissed Garbage Man hasn’t called to say he’s better and to make plans and also pretty convinced that our first date is the last time I’ll see him since his death by the plague (the picture of him on the stand at the funeral won’t count and I’m hoping for closed casket).


Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One Something at a Time

Waiting for Him to Text: Patience is a Virtue I Never Learned


Something She Said

Stories about sex and dating, screenshots of sexist online dating messages, murder jokes, elaborately long fruit puns–you never quite know what you’re going to get.

So I know I said in the last blog entry that I wasn’t going to bore you with all the texts in the *SPOILER ALERT* 3 weeks until my second date with the Garbage Man, “Il Garbarino”, “El Garbago Novio”* but I lied lol!  No, but seriously, if I don’t explain the play by play, things won’t make sense in later blogs so here we go (you may want to get yourself out a calendar to follow along with this):

Saturday 01.30.10
First Date

Sunday 01.31.10
He texts (great time)
I text back (great time right back)

Wednesday 02.03.10
I text (How’s things?)
He texts back (Good but I’m getting sick)
I call (no answer but I swear…I was breezy!)
He texts (Sorry I was sleeping aka getting rest, maybe we can hang out on friday?  Let you know how I feel)

Monday 02.08.10 (one week has passed since first date)
He texts (Yyygjalkdfakljdshfsdd8**&^&^#^&(#hjdkajfsdjhfl&a#$#I+=S)
I text back (Are you sitting on your phone? because I just got the weirdest message from you)
He texts (No lol! Telus doesn’t play well with other phone carriers, I’ll resend)
He texts (Hi SSD, It hurts to talk, I’m back at Dr. not feeling any better.  Hope your enjoying sunshine ttyl.)
Sidebar:  Let’s take a moment to notice the updating ability…good job GMan 😛
He texts (sexy banter)
I text (sexy banter)

Wednesday 02.10.10
He texts (Hey SSD, are you wanting to get together Friday?  Maybe you can come over to my place, that would be nice, Hopefully I’ll be feeling 100%)
I text back (Do you think it’s likely you’ll be feeling better by friday?)
He texts (Ah yes, I fogot that I need to book some time to hang out with you! lol.  Do you have other plans?)
I text back (lol! that’s so hilarious because it’s true lol-I’m just finishing an assignment, can I call u in ten min?)
He texts (you need to make an appointment to speak with me lol!  Yes I believe I am available at that time and will be expecting your call :P)
I call (the gist is I’m like “is it likely you’ll feel better?” and note that this is very bizarre to me…I mean either you know you’ll be better or you won’t…it’s only like a day and a half till we would be hanging out???  His response is basically “I’d really like to hang out, I’m hoping/thinking I’ll be better, but can we still play it by ear?”) LAME! and yet I agree lol!

Friday 02.12.10
I text (Hey Cutie!  How’s my favorite patient?)
He texts (Just at Dr.’s again)
I text (Because you’re still feeling crap? or to get the go-ahead aka not contagious?)
Crickets Chirp
I text (You still at the Dr.?)
Lonely Mountainous Echo
The Sprint Pin Can Be Heard Dropping
Children in Panama are telling the story of the lady who went spontaneously deaf (except that it’s so quiet I can actually hear them telling the story)

Saturday 02.13.10 (Two weeks have passed since first date)
He texts (Sorry fell asleep after I got home.  I ttyl when I feel better.)  Are you fucking kidding me???!?!?!?!  TheHell informs me that apparently boys are COMPLETE FUCKING BABIES when it comes to being sick AND reiterates what I already knew…that boys think “falling asleep” is some sort of valid excuse wtf? are you retarded…set a fucking alarm!?!?!
I eventually text back that evening (Sure.  Feel better DOUCHEBAG!!! okay so I just thought this last part)

Wednesday 02.17.10
I call [because I’m bored, because I like things settled one way or another, because I’m a fucking lunatic, because I lack any ability to demonstrate patience] (phone rings…hello? (then I say hello?) then phone just starts ringing again and then goes to voicemail…and I’m like wtf??? STUPID FUCKING TELUS!!! STUPID FUCKING CELL PHONES!!! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK wtf do I do now (and not end up looking schizo?) I attempt to leave a breezy message about seeing if he’s feeling any better, has he died etc.? and if he is feeling better maybe we could kick it that Friday or Saturday?
I call again lol! (I tell him Telus is officially screwing my phone big time and it’s now completely unreliable not just texts and if he does want to hang out to just message me on POF)…BREEZY!!! lol okay so this wasn’t exactly breezy but I will reassure you that at the very least it was breezier than how it sounds now reading it back lol!


Time ticks by like I threw molasses on the clock.  It’s moving so slow, I could throw a ball in the air, run to the kitchen, make a sandwich, eat it and come back in time to catch the ball.  Can you die from impatience???  Sidebar:  Remember at this point in time, I don’t know that a 2nd date will ever actually occur.

To Be Continued….

*P Sizzle…these names are jokes – I looked up the real translations for Garbage Man but they weren’t nearly as interesting or recognizable

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

What Would Chuck Norris Do?



[dropcap]S[/dropcap]o I’ve started this particular blog entry like 20 times now. Nothing was witty enough. Nothing was interesting enough. The details of the situation seem overwhelming (fuck!) what to include, what to not bother with….

Most people have some sort of morality on their shoulders. Perhaps a devil on the left and an angel on the right. Perhaps it’s more like Jack from Law and Order on the left and Tila Tequila on the right. Maybe it’s mom and dad vs. your friends. For me, it’s none of these…I keep my moral compass in my pocket. That being said, my shoulders are not “chip” free.

On the left, it’s me—okay well not really me. It’s the perfect me. She’s funnier, smarter, and much more interesting. She once just looked at Chuck Norris and he burst into laughter, and then he round-house kicked anyone who wasn’t laughing. Then she met a prince who flew her to Monaco where they gambled all night and after a huge losing streak she threw herself into the pot. They lost to an Arabian knight who took her back to his home where she became a sex slave. Though the Arabian Knight was a mega babe, she would not be controlled by any man. Fortunately for her, the guy from Prison Break with the blueprint tattoos happened to be tunnelling out of the Knight’s castle and took her with him. They spent the next couple of weeks running from the law all the while engaging in a torrid affair of sensual passion and intellectual stimulation…I’m just sayin’.

On the right, it’s me—okay well not really me. It’s the stagnant me. Picture Artax* (feel free to read the explanatory note but honestly if you’ve never seen “The NeverEnding Story” you won’t really get it, nor can we be friends! Lol). So yeah it’s the me that’s paralyzed by fear and anxiety and stands motionless for sheer terror of making the wrong move.

So here I am, trying to figure out what to write for this blog because ideally I want to get up-to date asap (I feel like blogs lose some of their quality when I’m writing them 2 weeks after the fact like I am right now) and I asked myself WWCND (what would Chuck Norris do)? So I round-house kicked Artax-Me out of this universe and my shoulders are feeling lighter already…that bitch was really weighing me down.

So here’s what I’ve decided:
1. I’m going to worry less about my blog recording every exact detail of my dating foibles
2. I’ll rely on the few and far between (shoutout TheHel, Mer and Rain for reading) to tell me if things aren’t making sense
3. Wow, work on personal growth aka be less serious…I mean Sheeeesh! this whole dating thing was supposed to be about fun fun and more fun lol!! Weeee!

P Sizzle…the fact that this blog which appears lengthy at best and “NeverEnding” at worst uses metaphors from the movie…is unintentional but delightful…I heart Irony!

*Artax is Atreyu’s horse. They head to the deadly Swamps of Sadness to see the ancient Morla, the wisest being in all of Fantasia but on the way Artax is overcome by the sadness of the swamps and sinks into the mud, like quicksand and the more he struggles the faster he sinks. Eventually he is swallowed completely and Atreyu must carry on alone on foot.


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

“Never was a Story of More Woe” than Waiting for a 2nd Date



(rewriting Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, about a Garbage Man)

A des’prate wait this morning with it brings; 
The text, for assurance, will he show his head? 
Go hence, to have talk of these dating things; 
Some shall be assur’d, and some neglected: 
For never was a story of more woe 
Than this of SomethingSheDated and her Garbage Man-o.

So we had had our first date, our first meeting, Garbage Man and I — and it was awesome.  But now it was the day after and while I had played my 18-22s as a calm, cool, and collected Tin Man-esque gal, I was only a few months out of a 6 year relationship with Mega Love.  Not to mention that this was probably my first real experience with dating and was definitely my first experience with dating white guys (I don’t know why that matters, but somehow it seemed like it did, because it was just another factor making this situation feel all too alien to me).

Sure, I was a bit swoony when describing this date to my best friend and her husband.  But, I also know that this is hormones and pheromones and the novelty of it all, so I kept this new found swooning to myself–meaning I had to refrain from texting, calling, and all other forms of overzealous, overeager, too soon crazy.  That is, until he texted, the next evening.

Hey Victoria, I had a good time last night.  Don’t study too hard.

Breathe easy.
Be Breezy.
I text back.

I had a good time too.

The next few days that pass take the stregnth of 10 men (and one close friend) to keep me from texting or calling, because oh man, do I want to.  Don’t worry though, I kept that crazy urge to myself.  Well, myself and my friend and her husband.
After all, I mean, do I really think that Garbage Man is the love of my life, my soul mate, my other half, the Will Smith to my Jada Pinkett, the foreign baby to my Angelina, the brain to my George Bush, the passcode to my sphinx?  Probably Not.  And yet, and yet, I was dying to talk to him, to contact him, to set up our next date.
Here are the following reasons why I figure I’m so super super super impatient, wish I could call, and wish the weekend would come sooner so Garbage Man and I could (potentially) hang out again (though I reiterate, I know feeling this is nutty, and thus would not reveal this crazy to anyone but my friends, definitely not GMan).
  1. Making out (need I say more?  first kisses, butterflies, newness, exciting, hot, amazing!)
  2. My days are currently filled with reading endless pages of literature and studying.  No matter how good the books are, making out with butterflies in my stomach will always win as an activity I’d rather be doing.
  3. may, I repeat may, be vaguely vulnerable after the demise of my relationship with Mega Love.
  4. This really is my first real dating experience using the following definition :

A Date: An event where both parties know it will take place ahead of time; see term “setting a date”. It is recommended both parties show up sober and fully clothed. Dates take place in coffee shops, restaurants  someone’s apartment when appropriate, or at an event. Dates do not take place in cars, nightclubs, parking lots, or anywhere in Ft. Lewis. Though there is such a thing as a double date – if the numbers are not evenly matched (aka 2 girls 2 guys) than this is a party and not a date (aka 2 girls 1 guy or 2 girls and 5 guys etc.). For the purpose of this blog, dates with boyfriends do not count.

5.  Did I mention that there was making out?  No wonder I can’t focus!

So, I hold out till Wednesday.  4 days.  Not so good.  But at least it’s a breezy message, which I figure is okay since he texted the day after the date (though I’m vaguely aware of the fact that he hasn’t really contacted me again since the date.  Is he just being patient because I’m so busy with school?)

I text How’s your week going?
He texts Slow.  I think I’m getting the flu.  How are you doing?

Is it weird that my initial reaction to this was as if he had just told me he wasn’t interested anymore?

We texted back and forth for awhile after that but I’m not going to bore you with the texts.  I will say that Garbage Man ends up being sick for like the next 3 weeks but *Spoiler Alert* we do eventually have a 2nd date, so stay tuned :).



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

The Date Whisperer: Garbage Man Raises The Bar



It started out like a scene from a Romantic Comedy…

Two adorable singles headed out for a pseudo-blind date.  They decide to meet at a coffee shop, a seemingly safe and fool-proof plan.  Pragmatically they choose a coffee shop halfway between their respective homes.  The girl google-maps the meeting spot, just to double check the Starbucks location.They set off, each in their own vehicles, boy aren’t they cute.  They arrive at the shopping complex where they have planned to meet up.  He goes to the Starbucks on the south side of the mall, She goes to the one on the north side of the mall.  What are the bloody chances???  They both think they’ve been stood up and go home…screeech just kidding!  He called to see where I was at, we got it sorted out and repositioned accordingly.  And that’s when all the magic began…


When I walk up, I see Garbage Man immediately (as he’s standing right outside).  This is a huge relief since one of my biggest fears is that awkward moment (if it happens) where you don’t recognize the person you’re meeting (or they’re not there yet and you have to stand around feeling like a loser.  But I digress because he was right there.  We hug.  I’m a hugger.  He is tall.  And adorable.  If he was a 3 or 4 in his pictures, he’s a 5 or 6 in person!  Excellent Jeans, Nice hoodie, very good hair, excellent cologne.

We go inside.  He proceeds to do several incredibly cute things:  asking what kind of coffee I drink, paying, asking about and getting the splenda/stir stick/lid/etc. for my drink, finding us a table, getting our drinks and bringing them to the table.  It’s all very chivalrous (aka just nice).

Coffee goes on for two hours and is filled with chat chat chatter.  Beautiful miraculous chatter, flowing and nervous, butterflies and giggles, smirks and cute smiles, witty repartee at its finest.  This may be a slight exaggeration but then I bring to your attention the title to this blog: The Date Whisperer.  The point isn’t really that Garbage Man is the most amazing person ever or even that he’s an excellent match for myself…the point was his ability to navigate this date, it was effortless, like it had a life of its own; a flying carpet showing me the world.

Neither seems to want the date to end.  He’s mentioned getting food more than once and though I’d sooner chew someone else’s gum then eat in front of him at this juncture (yeah that’s right, I’m a chick who doesn’t want to eat in front of a guy right away, so sue me), not to mention I’m actually not at all hungry what with all those butterflies filling me up, but I’m not ready for the the date to end, so we go for food.


Coffee turns into dinner and still we’re not ready to call it a night (I credit the magic dress I’m wearing, boobs look huge, ass looks great, tummy looks small woohoo! magic dress!).  At this point I’ve made the estimation that he in fact is neither a serial killer nor a super dud, so we go back to his place to watch a movie.


His Place
So you could say we watched a movie but honestly I can barely even remember watching it.  I believe (because again, I was under the spell of the Date Whisperer) that we just kind of sat there for quite awhile enjoying the fact that we were sitting so close.  Close sitting leads to hand holding leads to making out leads to me drawing my line in the sand and then it was time to call it a night.  The only other funny thing worth mentioning was the fact that he wears Rocawear cologne.  Now most of my friends did not really see any significance when I mentioned this but…well…honestly…I just thought it was hilarious because Rocawear is essentially an African American brand (Jay-Z, Rocafella, etc.)  It’s like he’s a black, white guy…okay not quite but still funny.


(My) Reasons For Not Having First Date Relations

I’m 28 not 22, it’s not as easy to be easy anymore.

I still haven’t had sex (or even a kiss) since Mega Love and first date sex is not what I had in mind.

I haven’t had sex with a White Guy SOBER since the first time I had sex, like a decade ago.

White guys make me more nervous, I feel like they’re judging me a lot harsher than black guys not to mention that I feel like with black guys, I’m something they’ve seen before, but white guys I almost feel like I’m their detour to chubby town or that they just find ME sexy and are not normally into girls this big.

Slow and steady wins the race…or so they say


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

Introducing Shakespeare’s “The Courtship of SomethingSheDated and The Garbage Man”



A Tale of Star Crossed Lovers (as told by a Vancouver dating blogger)

Two profiles, both alike in dignity,
In fair Vancouver, where we lay our scene,
From ancient heart-break to new cupidity,
Where stupid boys make crazy minds unclean.
From forth the craving loins of these two joes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers frustrate their life;
Whose misadventured messaging overthrows
Do with their lust bury their ex’s strife.
The heated feeling she impatient of,
With the proliferation of her controlling rage,
Which, his slow tardy notes, nought could remove,
Is now the lengthy blogs of this our stage;
The which if you with patient eyes attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.

This, is the story of the Garbage Man

When I look back now, it felt like I had been single for months and months but in actuality, the ex (henceforth referred to as MegaLove) and I broke up over thanksgiving (the canadian one) and I was already online dating by early December, but I was also in university at the start of my second BA so December was filled with exams, not boys.  And that brings me to Garbage Man, whose courtship went something like this:

He messages me.

I respond.

Witty repartee.

Witty repartee.

Witty repartee.

Pros:  He’s normal, tall (good stance) and has the witty repartee

Cons: His photos are not great (I’d give him a 4) though I think potential

Witty repartee

Witty repartee.

Witty repartee.

He asks for my phone number.

I give it to him.

He texts.

I text back.

He asks if it’s cool if he calls (aka am I free).

I say no, super busy with school, I’ll call tomorrow night.

Next night I call. No answer. I leave message.

While talking to TheHel (my friend) he calls, I don’t want to answer but TheHel makes me.

We talk for about half an hour (This is 2009 and I still have pay as you go! Fuck!)

He asks if we can hang out.

I tell him I’m too busy right now with school (Monday) but I’ll text in a week when I’m less busy.


Friday (5 days later)

I text.

He texts.

We make plans.

Coffee tomorrow.

He’ll call at noon.

I send pics of all the cute boys I’m talking to at the moment: ATL, Garbage Man, 44yr old., The Alice Cooper, The Barbie guy, The firefighter.  She firmly supports Garbage Man (and ATL).  I’m super nervous, internet dating, really?  Why does it feel so much weirder at 28 than say 22?  The Hel convinces me to give them a go.  She clearly sees potential.



He calls around noon.

We make plans

Starbucks @ 6pm

Halfway between his place and mine


To Be Continued… 


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