Online Dating: Hot Tits and Other Boob Mistakes



The messages.  They flood in.  Like poetry.  Heart crushing.  Mind-numbing.  Pure drivel.

One giddy gentleman informs me

oo my god i like it big boobs i want to watch your boobs a day why not


Another lusty lad lets me know

amazing big lovely great boooooooooooooooooooobs i love them badly.


Then it’s Milk Man Mike talking dairy to me

wow waking up to see your jugs in the morning amazing


And let’s not forget the chap who chooses to see me for my character

with your cleavage and pretty face you are sooooooooo amazing!!!!


And don’t even get me started on the numerous Hot Tits and the one guy who simply messaged with



And I shit you not…the o’s took up two whole lines.


And the thing of the thing is.  I just don’t fucking get it.  What is the goal here?


Are they trying to flirt with me?

Is this a form of internet tourettes?

Are they drunk and cruising the net?

Is this a test?


Dear Boys,

Wrong.  You’re wrong.  You’re just fucking doing it wrong.  No girl ever, LIKE EVER reads this type of useless message and thinks fuck yeah, I want this dude.  No seriously.  NEVER.  And the thing is I kind of think you already know this.  Which makes me wonder what the fuck you’re doing?  Unfortunately none of the scenarios I can come up with in my head make you come off well.  They all sort of just end with…boys…are fucking idiots.  And so far that’s all anybody has offered when I ask them this question that plagues me so.


They’re idiots.


Boys are stupid.


Guys are lazy.


They’re just bored.


Only.  urgh.  um.  is this excuse actually good enough for anyone?  We’re part of a species that turned wind into energy and walked on the moon.  We write poetry and cure diseases.  We found a way to put planes in the sky and read entire books on our phones.  And you’re telling me I’m just supposed to accept it as a fact that the average guy doesn’t know that contacting a woman stranger to tell her of the positive impression her tits make upon him is neither an uplifting compliment nor a means to his probable sexual/ emotional/ companionship end?  I won’t accept this.  And neither should you.

And I’m fairly certain that the majority of these boys are not sitting home alone every moment of the day.  I know them.  You know them.  Hell some of them are probably even your friends (though I’m looking at you here, fellas, because I’m pretty sure dudes who say shit like this aren’t big with the ‘female crowd’).  So here’s what I think.  You should expect more from your friends.  You should expect more from people in general.


Think it through.


Put some thought into it.


Take a moment and work it out.


These should be the slogans of our generation.  We’re an intelligent fucking people, you know.  And I think it’s high time we all expected more from our societies.  So fellas, tell your friends and ladies, the next time a guy messages you with bullshit like this, respond with a link to this post (or another from the blog depending on his particular offense) because that’s what I’m going to do.  From now on, every boy who contacts me with messages like this will be getting a response back.  One that calmly and kindly explains just precisely why his approach is so so wrong.

Dear Boys, You’ll Never Get a Mile if You Lie About an Inch

Is it okay to lie on a dating profile?

Rules of Online Dating

Is it okay to lie in an online dating profile?


Online Dating…it’s a tricky bitch.  There are few very certainties that all people can agree on.

Some want to meet right away while others want weeks of messages and texting and phone calls before they’re ready for a public appearance.  And then there are others who fall somewhere in the middle.

Some think your profile should reveal all your specialties and idiosyncrasies (in order to find a good match) while others think your profile should acknowledge the bare minimum of information required (saving the rest to be discovered during the dating phase).

And the truth is in dating as in relationships, there’s a lot of wiggle room and everybody can make an argument for wanting something different. However, I think it’s safe to say that nobody, ever, is hoping to be duped.  In fact, deception might be one of the single most upsetting occurrences in dating.

Has deception ever been a revered quality in a person?  Does anyone sit at home, looking at online dating profiles, and think to themselves…I sure hope this guy, who I’ve been messaging with back and forth, turns out to be someone completely different…I mean it would be down right boring if I made an educated selection about the kind of physical appearance I find attractive and the kind of personality I feel I’d mesh well with…and the person that showed us was actually like that!!  La-Ame!

So you have to wonder.  Why do people do it??  Why do people lie in their dating profiles??  Or as I’m sure they’ve rationalized it… fudge the truth.  And it’s not a gender thing because both women and men do it.  Albeit misguided fools, but both men and women nonetheless.  I apologize if the use of the word fool seems too harsh for anybody’s delicate sensibility but the truth is, if you’re actively being dishonest in life…honestly…I generally fucking can’t stand you.  Like, think you make the world a worse place.  As in, wonder where your parents fucked up.  Wonder how you got to be so awful.  Wonder why you deserve any happiness at all in this life when you’re actively sucking joy from the world of others.

But.  Like the judgmental person that I am, who though quick to judge is also quick to feel empathy and change my mind, I also feel a sadness.  Like, where did your life go wrong that you feel you have to make up who you are.  As in, why do you feel so less than that you’re writing a fiction of who you want to become rather than living the life that is yours.  How did you get to the point where you didn’t feel that you were enough.  Just you.  Enough.  And that’s more the person I write this for.  That misguided fool.  Who needs a helping hand.  Even if they don’t know it yet.

So before I get further into the recesses of just exactly why lying in your dating profile is so absolutely fucking ridiculous and idiotic (I mean above and beyond the simple fact lying is bullshit)…I want to mention the lie that I’ve found to be the most prevalent in my adventures so far.


Liar, Liar, Shoes With Lifts On Fire


Men lie up.  The more experience I have with online dating and the more I talk about it with other people the more I learn how astoundingly prevalent lying about one’s height is for guys.  Apparently the norm is something like adding 2 inches if you’re under 5’10 (if you’re above 5’10 it seems you’re less likely to bother though I still hear of its occurrence and if you’re 6’0 and over apparently you’re all in the clear…for this).

Women lie down.  Now unfortunately this is just anecdotal for me.  I’ve yet to meet a girl who lied about her height, though I’ve had people tell me it happens…and the logic (using that term loosely) is there…if a short guy would lie up, a tall girl might lie down.  So it could very well be possible, who knows.

But here’s the thing of the thing.  Boys.  When you lie about your height, you’re causing numerous problems for yourself.  Height isn’t everything.  Even for someone like me…who has a huge complex about the guy being tall because I’m big and otherwise I feel like the due and then nobody wins…has been known to have it not be any kind of deterrent.  After all…some of the best sex I’ve ever had was with a dude who was 5’9 (and I’m 5’7 so that’s pretty close).  But when you lie.  When you pretend to be something you’re not?!?!  Well fuck.  That says a few things to me.  And none of them are good.  It says that you:

a.  Think I’m an idiot

b.  Think I’m easily duped.  (that sounds a bit like a. but I think the additional aspect worth mentioning is that you think I’m naive and can be taken advantage of…and also that you’re the kind of person who would try to take advantage of another)

c.  Think that I have such low standards as to date a blatantly dishonest person

d.  Think very poorly of yourself and nobody wants to date someone with low self-esteem


So what I don’t get is why guys do it.  Is it a bit of the Bird Seed Theory and that you’re essentially throwing so much bird seed that you figure even if you hit 6 birds who notice you lied that there will be 1 bird who never notices and thus you get away with murder…the murder of honesty?  Is that the goal?  *puts head down on desk and weeps for humanity* I mean holy shit.  That’s some vaguely pathetic slightly pathological shit.  Eeek.  Ick.  Uck.  Gross.

That being said…I’d love to hear from anybody who ever fudges the truth in their online dating profile.  Whether about height or something else.  I promise to offer a one-time experience of immunity from judgement (though you should know I’ll be pretending you’ve seen the error of your ways and from here on out will be presenting yourself honestly)…either that or make a good argument (and prepare for a rebuttal) about why you think dishonesty is okay.


Dating the World a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time

He Sucks, She Sucks, We All Suck Vancouver



[dropcap]The truth is[/dropcap] I hadn’t planned to write anything.  I was busy with school and papers and grad school apps etc.  But there came a point when I just couldn’t bite my tongue anymore and the things that were being said…well…just seemed…so…totally and completely off the fucking mark.  And with that, here is my “response” to the 2 articles stirring up a dating storm in Vancouver (though you don’t have to read them to understand my post, I don’t think…): Do Vancouver Men Suck & Do Vancouver Women Suck, A Reader’s Response


Dear Vancouver,

I hear it all the time.  I experience it myself.  Dating in Vancouver sucks.  And according to this article, we might just be able to get away with blaming the men.  And to be honest, I completely agree, men in Vancouver absolutely suck.  But then again so do the women.  See that’s the thing about being dicks.  Just because you’re one doesn’t mean I’m not one too.  And the same goes for the gender issue brought up in this article.  Just because men here suck at dating, and possibly life, doesn’t mean women don’t too.  And while I know I’ve just thrown a truckload of double negatives your way, I want to make something perfectly clear.  I agree with the article.  I disagree with the article.  I think it said some things worth saying.  I think it missed the mark completely.  So ya know.  Crystal clear right?

The problem with dating in Vancouver is actually pretty simple.  Well, at least knowing what the problem is, is simple, everything else like how it got this way and how to change it…well those are up for grabs.  But here it is, this is what I know about dating in Vancouver:

1.  Vancouver Men are Pansies
2.  Vancouver Women are Bitches
3.  Everybody is still fucking
4.  We’ve become the “American School System of Dating”

Just so we’re clear.  I don’t have all the answers.  But I do know that dudes here are pansies.  Full stop.  And I know it’s politically incorrect.  And I know reverse-gender oppression and all that.  But the truth is, if I wanted to date someone more feminine than me, I’d pick a chick…they’re much prettier and smell nicer.  I want a man.  I want a man who can grow a full beard.  I want a man who’s balls are too big to wear skinny jeans.  I want a dude who knows how to make a decision, was smart enough to do something with his life, has a plan and takes some action.  Truth is I want more than this, but this will suffice for the moment.


1.  Vancouver Men are Pansies.
Men in Vancouver are shy.  And quiet.  The only time I ever see any aggression is in the most negative of ways, bar fights, street fights, etc.  Ironically the exact things that are working against getting them laid, which is what all that fighting is about isn’t it…sexual frustration?  And while you can try to claim that men are like this in every city I assure you, it’s simply not true.  And I’m not a ten, so you can’t blame it on that either.  I can go anywhere in the States, and boys are talking to me.  Spain and they’re hollering down the street.  When I was in Paris, I had a Chef (in his full Chef get-up) leave his restaurant and come across the street into the launder-mat I was using and chat me up…and he didn’t even have any laundry!  The list goes on.  But in Vancouver, it’s few and far between.  And most of the time I’m not even certain they’re chatting me up.

And that’s out in public.  People claim the internet is so different and online dating is so easy and guys will say anything.  This is true.  To some extent.  While I won’t get into the idiocy that are the messages of Vancouver men (that’s…uh…basically the rest of this blog)…I will say that this lack-of-assertiveness translates onto the net as well.  While here in Vancouver I get anywhere between 0-5 messages a day, and at least 80% of those are bullshit like hot tiiiiiiiiiiits and messages that make you think you’re Drowning in a Sea of Idiocy, this isn’t the case in every city.  And how do I know??  Because I’m a woman who appreciates a little Science and Dating and who doesn’t love a good experiment.

So, one day I changed my dating profile, just for the day, to say Boston (since, after all I am considering grad school there, might as well see what’s up with the dating).  And within that one single day I had over 50 messages, at least 75% of which were eloquent and interesting.  Now it’s not perfect science, perhaps Vancouver is small and we have to factor in that I was a “new” profile in Boston and not in Van but still, that’s a pretty huge increase.  We simply can’t ignore it. [Update: the messages are just as fucking stupid in Montreal (see my SSDated instagram for proof), so clearly I just need to move to Boston *half joking*]

So to sum up.  Vancouver men are more feminine than men in other cities and I have no idea why.  Vancouver men are shy and less likely to approach a woman, in public or online, and I have a partial idea why.  And that’s how we get to point number two.  Vancouver women are bitches.


2. Vancouver Women are Bitches.
Now ladies, before you start freaking out on me…I love you.  To me??  Oh well, to me you’re fucking lovely, amazing, sweethearts, princesses, best ever, love ya…but to guys…well…um…it can get a little rough.  You see the thing is, the whole dating in Vancouver situation is a bit of a snowball.  Because here we are moaning about how guys don’t approach us or talk to us, but when they do, we suddenly become the Simon Cowells of dating…critical bitches, yo.  He’s gay.  He’s too feminine.  Ugh, hipster.  He’s weird.  He’s creepy.  He’s too short.  and the list goes on.  And while I also, don’t really want to date a short feminine hipster who’s a little bit weird or creepy and may or may not be gay…it might be a good idea if I don’t treat him like shit because

a. he’s human
b. he might be a fucking genius (which aside from the gay possibility, could really negate all that other stuff for me) (see #4 coming up) and
c. who knows if he ends up being the most amazing person you’ve ever known and the whole hipster thing is just a phase.
d.  or maybe turns out you love hipsters
e.  or maybe or maybe or maybe…have a fucking imagination…and imagine the possibilities

Plus, in the interest of sisterhood, shouldn’t we all be particularly kind and pleasant to any fellow interested in talking to us, if only to help propagate a species of males who regularly approach chicks in Van?  THINK OF YOUR SISTERS!!

That being said, I take you back to the point above where I mentioned that half the time a boy is chatting me up, it’s so timid and feeble I assume he just wants us to be besties.  And I’m almost certain during the conversation he hasn’t once considered all the dirty things I might be able to do with my mouth (Sidenote:  To be clear he should never SAY any of the dirty things he thinking till at least some of them have been put into action, I mean Social Protocol, yo, but still…he should be thinking them…if he wants me, I mean).

That being said, girls in Vancouver are fickle bitches.  I can’t tell you how many times girls complain about how dudes dress.  But here’s the thing ladies…you can’t ask for a man in a suit and be disappointed when he’s metrosexual.  And you can’t ask for a dude that puts effort into his outfit and then be disappointed when he shows up in skinny jeans and $200 high tops…which you can be damn sure he put some thought into.  So the next time you want to complain about how a guy dresses, just remember that you’re actually asking him to tuck his little purse of man coins (cajones, nuts, love lockets, berries, wedding tackle, etc.) just a little bit further away from you and hey if you’re cool with that then cool.  It’s not my business.  But don’t come crying to me while I love a man with a full beard and a baseball cap (and pants large enough to let his man marbles breathe) ready to talk science and fuck me senseless…uh…er…something like that.  Basically ladies…stop asking for a Pretty Prince when you want a King.  Because you can’t have both.  And the next time some dude says what’s up…give him a shot.  I’m not saying you need to sell your soul or makeout with him in public.    But give the dude a go.  You never know when it turns out he has a PhD. in something other than his pants (though that’s fun too).


3.  Everyone is Still Fucking.
Vancouver is a city you can get laid in.  No doubt.  100%.  No question.  Maybe it’s because we’re liberal.  Maybe it’s because the clubs here suck and what else are you going to do but grind up on someone else.  Maybe it’s because we’re all just so fucking happy to be so close to the mountains, the ocean, and amazing sushi that we’re willing to throw caution (and our panties) to the wind and get down.  And to be clear…this is a judgement free zone…get down with your bad self.  But here’s the one drawback I’ve seen so far.

Why would men want to bother to step their game up?  Why would it even occur to them to be smarter, more interesting, kiss better, or any of the other things we want from them??  THEY’RE STILL GETTING LAID!!!!  And while I’m currently doing my best to limit this phenomenon (which is quite the sacrifice for someone who rallies around the term SLUTmazing)…I can’t do it alone ladies.  I’m just one woman!


4.  Vancouver is the American School System of Dating.
People typically think of Hollywood as a town of beauty-obsessed starlets and airheads, so perhaps I shouldn’t feel so shocked that Vancouver, the Hollywood of the North, has become full of the same.  I almost don’t know how to describe it.  I was to yell at this city, like a frustrated parent screams at their 21 year old who just keeps fucking up…over and over again and all you can do is explode with YOU BETTER GET YOUR PRIORITIES STRAIGHT KIDDO!!!  Because that’s really where the problem lies.  The bigger, more important problem.  It lies in a set of fucked up priorities.  In a city where the dating complaints sound a bit like something George Bush might say.  We have become the American Education System of Dating.

The first article described three young women:

they’re attractive, smartly put together, and fit. They hike the Chief, do the Grouse Grind, ski, bike the seawall, and kayak

And then that’s it.  That’s the end of the description.  I mean, seriously?!  Take a moment.  And let’s think about what’s missing from this list of what I can only assume is supposed to be a description of what makes these women dateable, desirable, worthy, etc. in our fair city.  So, let’s see…they’re attractive and fit.  So that’s good.  And they’re smart…oh no wait…they’re smartly put together…ok…so I guess that’s cool, they have some fashion sense.  And…then we’re back to descriptions of their athletic pursuits.  Super.  And to be honest, this is Vancouver.  A city where being fit and fashionable are your best assets.  I weep for humanity.

But seriously?!  Would you date these girls?  I mean hot bodies and financials aside, what do these chicks have to offer?  And while you could make the argument that for the sake of brevity, details about personality were left out…but in an article that runs for five pages (no judgement, people in glass houses, I’m just saying)…that argument kind of falls flat.

And so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the article focuses greatly on appearances.  Which are valid mind you, attraction is attraction.  Pretending it’s irrelevant isn’t helping anyone.  But if the women of Vancouver were really able to give that hypothetical Genie lamp a rub…is a dude who dresses up for his lady really what we’d ask for???

How about a man who can hold a conversation, who understands the ebb and flow of asking questions and offering things that can be responded to, who has SOMETHING TO SAY!  How about we aim for the stars and ask for intelligent men who have thoughts about science or math, or the history of art, or how a font curves in a way that makes his heart pound, or can tell a joke that is actually funny and not in that stupid I just said something super dumb but I’m going to attempt to cover it up by calling it a joke way that just makes you want to tear your hair out.  What happened to wanting real things that matter??  Who cares if he is wearing a sharp blazer if the man can’t manage to follow an argument from thesis to proof to proof to proof to conclusion.  When did we get so fucking tedious!!

And ladies, you’re not excused either.  Because there are really only three complaints I ever hear from guys.  Stupid, Crazy, Snobs (the nicer way to say Bitches).  And while crazy I have some thoughts on (that’s another article entirely)…they’re often right about the other two.

So this is to everybody (me included, improvement is always possible and required).  Step your game up.  Read a book.  Be more than anyone ever expected you could be.  Say something.  Do something.  Change the world.  Be interesting.  Make a point.  Make a mark.  Hold your head high and be proud of what you’re doing with your life.

And for fuck sakes…ladies…be nicer to the next guy that chats you up…(but if he’s a loser don’t sleep with him…it’s as bad as faking orgasms and you need to start thinking of your fellow woman).  And guys…man the fuck up…put some of that natural testosterone to good use and chat a lady up.  And be clear about it.  Because the only thing worse than being rejected??  Is being rejected by a girl who probably would’ve liked you if only she’d known that weren’t trying to be her new bestie.

Finally, while I applaud @AmigoJor for getting out there and doing his thing.  I have to toss out a few words of advice for the boys because I almost think everything he said was misguided.

1.  Don’t talk to chicks on the bus if it’s anytime before noon.  She’s busy.  She’s trying to get to work on time.  She can’t be bothered with you because her boss wants the blah blah on his desk by noon plus she’s not really a morning person and dammit can’t I just enjoy this latte in peace.  Plus daytime isn’t sexy, yo.  Save that shit for afternoon to evening.

2.  Beaches?  Park?  Sure…those are awesome for July and August…but uh…this is Vancouver.

3.  Yaletown.  I can either buy into the stereotypes…in which case she’s got the nervous jittery look because her body is still trying to recover from all the coke she did last night not because she’s anti-social.  If we want to go the PC route…don’t assume…if you boys want us ladies to see you in your skinny jeans and not think gay! you’re going to have to knock the Snobby girls are from… shit off.  It goes both ways.

4.  Coffee Shops…home run.  What can I say…he’s right (though I see it in a slightly less cynical way).  And I almost kind of hope that one day I might run into this fella in a coffee-shop…and he’ll say something kind and interesting and we’ll have banter.  He’ll ask for my number and I’ll give it.  And perhaps he never calls.  And perhaps I don’t really want him to.  But we’ll both go home and start a snowball effect.  We’ll tell our friends about the time we met a person who was kind and funny and sort of maybe amazing (or at least not creepy and weird/ bitchy and distant) and how he acted like a man and I was a perfect lady.  And it will encourage our friends to do the same.  And they’ll tell their friends and so on and so forth.  All because one day a couple different people wrote articles and then some other people put it into action.  Or ya know.  Something like that.

But one final word of advice…gentlemen…don’t ever say something like this “Ahh, lovely sunrise with those heavy clouds in the distance, eh?” (from article)…because while you think she responds with “yahh” out of disinterest, there’s another much more likely reason.  There is no good response to this.  Or at least not one that someone who’s just be taken aback by someone new talking to her on a bus can come up with in a timely manner.  This is a question for an art gallery or a third date.  When your chatting a new chick up on the bus, on the street, at a pub, you have to make sure she can respond without feeling like an idiot.  This is not the time to quiz her knowledge of 18th century philosophy.  Just relax.  And ask her something normal.  Like how is your night going?  

So good luck out there my lovelies.  Because don’t mistake my harsh no-bullshit approach for anything other than a love for this city and her people.  I love Vancouver.  And I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t care.  I just want you to knock off this teenager-apathetic-I-don’t-need-to-be-amazing-nonsense and get started.  It’s never too late.  Nothing is permanent.  The world is waiting with baited breath.  Now go out and date like I know you can.

Yours Truly,

Something She Dated
aka That girl at Starbucks two seats over
aka Your favorite chat up chick
aka Miss Social Protocol 2012
aka Your dating fairy godmother
aka Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time

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

I’m Not Clingy, I’m Just Smarter Than You

*Disclaimer.  There are clingy chicks in the world. There are clingy boys in the world.  This is about the rest of us.   Who get a bad rep.
I’m a planner.  Some people think that’s a flaw.  Personally, I think it’s brilliant (and FYI: Planning and spontaneity are not mutually exclusive).  My passport is always up to date.  I’m ready for a summer road trip at a moment’s notice.  Camping?  Sure!  House-party in Kelowna tonight?  Fuck yeah…I’ll get gas, you get snacks and we can be there in five hours!  I’m basically up for anything at anytime.  Party at the moon tower? and I’m rounding up money for kegs (for you guys of course, I’ll drink diet coke) and Mathew McConaughey.  But essentially I’m looking for fun fun fun all the time time time.
Now while I may spend the majority of my days egotistically thinking I’m super awesome and RARE, I would hedge my bets that there are lots of lovely ladies out there just like me.  Ladies who have careers.  Ladies who have friends.  Ladies who have goals, dreams and priorities.  Frankly, Ladies who have shit to do.  And yet.  Ladies who have time to date.  Like I have time to date.  Ladies like me, who are available.  And not because we’re clingy.  Or desperate.  Or insecure.  Weak or sad.  Losers or duds.
We’re just simply not retarded.  Allow me to elaborate.
The biggest complaint I hear from men (trying to date me, trying to date others, floundering about) is that they’re busy.  They’re tired.  They’ve just got so much going on *stifles eye roll*   But here’s the thing of the thing.  There are a lot of hours in the day.  There are a lot of days in a week and weeks in a month.  Our lives are fucking filled with time.  So why can’t these men find any of it.
They’re retarded?  They’re confused?  Something in their DNA?  Momma didn’t teach ‘em right?  They’re really just big babies?  They can’t see a big picture?  I honestly couldn’t tell you.  It baffles me to no end.
Logic tells me that fun…uh…ya know…is fun.  Experience tells me that fun is…awesome.  And since you can never have too much awesome in your life, logic tells me that I would want to squeeze every drop I can of it into my life.  I mean honestly.
Therefore, I like to make plans in advance.  Why?  Because then I can fit more in.  I don’t wait till the weekend to make weekend plans.  Why?  Because when three people call Saturday afternoon to kick it Saturday night…I have to pick one.  Only one plan gets made.  I only get 1/3 of the fun.  However, if those same three people call by Wednesday, it’s likely that I can make plans with one on Friday night, one on Saturday night, and possibly one even Sunday afternoon.  Three out of three.  That’s one whole cup of fun. Fucking Awesome.  Now sometimes shit doesn’t work out and schedules collide and other times there simply aren’t plans to be made.  And that leaves all that lovely room for spontaneity.
And I know that often guy’s want to leave their options open.  They don’t want to commit to a plan, a girl, an idea for the weekend.  And that’s fine.  Go ahead and wrap yourself up in your issues.  It could very well work out awesomely for you.  I’m not saying I have all the answers.  I’m just offering an alternative perspective.  A reason she doesn’t answer your weekend texts.  A reason she cuts ties after three weeks without connecting for a date.  So like I said, I don’t know all the answers.  Not by a long shot.  But I do know about smart chicks.  And I know about awesomeness, lol.  And I know about planning.  And I know about having the most fun possible.  So with all that said, I leave you with this:
Boys, I beg you.  Next time you meet a girl who only wants to make advance plans with you.  Or calls you on Tuesday to make plans for the weekend.  Try to remember.  While it is possible she’s clingy or high maintenance.  It’s just as likely that she’s awesome…and quite simply smarter than you.  So do a cross-word or brush your teeth with the other hand and get that brain power up.  Step it up a notch, get your shit together and get the most out of your life.  Or don’t.  I mean do what you want.  But don’t be shocked when you call on Saturday and she’s busy.  And the best thing that might have ever come into your life is booked solid.
Class dismissed.

Dear Boys, 90% Curious

How to have a conversation


[dropcap]T[/dropcap]here’s an old adage that we all know.  Curiosity killed the cat.  But men would be well served to ignore this advice when it comes to dating.  Because in fact.  Curiosity slays the pussy.  Seriously.  Fucking slays it.  And the thing that frustrates me most.  Is that this seems pretty simple.  I mean like square-block-goes-into-square-hole simple.  Like basic-social-protocol simple.  Like how-the-fuck-do-these-boys-function-in-everyday-life kind of simple.  And yet somehow they do.  They’re out there.  Working.  And boring me to tears.

I recently asked my followers on Twitter, how or where people felt they had learned the art of conversation.  And the 2 responses I got (clearly 930 followers means absolutely nothing) said essentially the same thing.  They learned it by mimesis.  Basically they saw other people doing it well and copied it.  Which seems about right when you consider that this is exactly how babies learn to speak.  And yet there are boys.  Tons and tons of boys (I have the stats to prove it).  Who don’t understand how a conversation works.  Online or offline.  It makes no difference.  And I just don’t fucking get it.

Are they lazy?  Retarded?  Misinformed?  Lazy?  Uninformed?  Just being dicks?  Self-saboteurs?  Lazy?  Are they the children left behind?  Repetition should be showing I think it’s mostly laziness.  Because I just can’t believe that people can be so fucking idiotic.  So glaringly clueless.  What do you mean people don’t all follow social protocol like I follow social protocol?  Fucking hippies.  But seriously.  Why?  How? Why? Why don’t they know?  Seriously.

But until I can figure out which parents dropped the motherfucking ball.  And which cracks of what school system these boys all fell through.  Or why so many damn legs are open to such inane retardation in this fair city of mine…that is thus training these boys to develop Pavlovian-induced idiocy.  I will simply offer up some advice.  Some simple fucking guidelines for all the boys of online dating.

Dear Boys,

The art of conversation is mandatory.  It is part of social protocol.  It is too ridiculously easy to be fucking up.  Get your shit together.  Step your fucking game up.  And  I assure you it is mind-numbingly simple.  There are only two simple rules to remember.

1.  Ebb and Flow
2.  Be 90% Curious.

Ebb and Flow.  It’s like a dance.  Or the tide.  Or even simpler and in your wheelhouse.  Imagine it is sex.  In and out.  It doesn’t get any easier.  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  She asks a question.  You (answer and) ask a question.  She (answers and) asks a question.  You (answer and) ask a question.  In.  Out.  Ebb.  Flow.  She steps.  You step.  She steps.  You step.  Everybody gets laid.  Or something like that.  And before your head explodes thinking of new questions.  It doesn’t always have to be new.  Sometimes you can just ask it right back.  She says tell me about your job.  You tell her.  And then say.  Tell me about your job.  Fucking child’s play.

90% Curious.  For the love of dating!  This should NOT be a shocker.  But here’s one thing that might be.  You can fake it.  It doesn’t matter if you’re faking.  At first.  See the thing is.  I don’t always give a shit what your favorite movie is.  Honestly I’m probably too nervous to even remember it by the end of our date.  And your favorite song.  The last place you traveled.  Reasons your brother took the job he did.  Why your friend’s call you Jimbo when your name is Frank.  Sure I care in a roundabout way.  I’m getting to know you.  But the details aren’t always what’s important.  It’s that I’m curious.  That I’m asking.  Because that’s fucking social protocol.  Dates wouldn’t go anywhere if no one ever asked a question.  So whether you’re actually curious about the details or just the overall sharing process.  You have to act it.  You have to be 90% curious.  Because nothing drops panties faster than a boy who is interested in (or feigns interest in) hearing about my schoolwork.  Or my writing.  Or my softball team.  Or the reason I wear a lot of aqua colored things.

So the next time I stop responding to your messages on POF.  The first thing you should look at.  Is whether you were all Ebb.  And no Flow.  Because you might be blowing it.  And it’s the same offline too.  If I look awkward and uncomfortable.  If I ever find myself being forced to say So…is there anything else you want to know about me?  You’re ebbing out of control.  You ebbing bastard!  You have to have the flow my friend.  You have to have the flow.

Yours Truly,
Judgey Wudgey
aka Something She Dated
aka Your favorite cat in the hat
aka Miss Social Protocol 2011
aka The Flow to your Ebb
aka Helping you get laid (and not labelled retarded) one question at a time
aka Dating Vancouver a better place one “something” at a time

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

Dear Boys, Blame Your Buddies


I just recently read an article about why men today are so angry.  The article had several points so before you go dissecting my argument…I’m mostly focusing on the the argument that men are bitter and angry that women  seem to want equality in all areas of life except dating/sex/relationships.

So there they are.  Angry men.  Trying to figure out why exactly it is that they should pick up the tab, open the door, etc.etc.  And while I’ve covered one of many angles in Dear Boys, Why I Never Pay On Dates?  Here is another angle.  Well more of an exposé.  On who these angry men have to blame.  Because bee tee dub?  It sure as fuck isn’t me.

So here it is.  The answer.  First the why.  And then the who.

So the why…short answer?  Because you still judge us.  Okay sure.  Not all of you.  Of those who read my blog, probably a lot fewer than the general population.  But still a HUGE ass chunk of boys.  So you can just go ahead and blame your bros.  Blame it ALL on them, because they’re ruining it for everybody.

Why you have to do the asking?  Why you have to pick up the tab?  For the same reason I have to pretend I haven’t slept with half of British Columbia and most of Washington.  Just Sayin’  It’s all about the guise and illusion and until you don’t judge me for all the indiscretions that take away from the lady-likeness that is demanded of me.  You better open my goddamn door.  You better pony up with some change for my soda.  You best get to asking me out.  (assuming after articles like this boys still want to lol).

And I know you’re immediate reaction.  You’re thinking.  Oh I don’t judge.  Whatever happened before me doesn’t matter.  Blah blah blah.  While on the one hand I call total bullshit.  On the other hand…I’ll just give it to you (the point I mean, get your mind out of the gutter).  Let’s assume you don’t pre-judge the super slutmazing ways of my late teens and early twenties.

Even then there’s still all the little things.  Like being slutty now.  Kissing too soon.  Fucking too soon.  And getting judged.  Calling too quickly.  And getting judged.  Being the one to do the asking.  And getting judged.  Because I know what it is that you want.  You want the girl that all the other boys can’t get.  You want the prize.  You want the star.  And you want the girl that is recognized for being those things.  By the other primates.  I mean boys.

So the next time you moan and complain about having to make the first move, having to shell out for a date, and having to open a simple little door.  Have some compassion.  Because while all you need is balls.  Chicks have to plan strategy like goddamn army generals.  It’s not so easy being HardToGet when all you want to do is just be fucking normal.  Just to be nice and kind and fun.  Without having to worry about giving it all away (not just sex) too early.  And for reference I’m not talking about emotionally slutty susans here.  That’s a whole other ballgame.  I’m talking about a normal girl.  Who doesn’t want to play games.  But has to.  Like Stratego.  When all she wants to do is tell you where the flag is and go makeout already.  But can’t.  Because you’re judging her.  Or other boys are judging her.  And she doesn’t yet know that you’re not one of the boys judging her.

And you have your judgemental brothers to thank for that.  So think about that.  The next time your buddy rags on a girl being slutty.  Or no longer being interested because she was too interested and though he thought she was rad, he wanted a chase.  Go ahead.  Punch him in the face.  Maybe even knock his balls around a bit.  Because he’s really your worst enemy.  Making you angry.  Keeping you from the things you want (like getting laid).  And making you open doors.  Which is a pretty big hardship I admit.  And while you’re at it.  Maybe it’s time to collect the $500 he owes you for all the dates you’ve had to take out all year.  I know I’d be scrounging through his pockets.

Dear Boys,

My dear, dear boys.  My Angry Andrews.  My Hard done by Henrys.  My Picking up the tab Peters.  It’s time you knew the truth.  Admitted it to yourselves.  Those Bros you’re always keeping before your Hos.  They’re to blame.  For things not being equal.  For the fact that ladies don’t want to do the asking.  They’re the reason that chick is holding out on you.  That is wasting your time being coy when everybody could just be having fun together.  I know it’s hard to hear dude.  But the only person fucking you right now is your homies.  Your DNA twins.  Your buddies, your dudes, your bros.  So don’t tell me dudes.  Because I already know it’s bullshit.  But go ahead and spread the news through the dudework.  Get that message out.  Stop judging the ladies.  And things’ll go your way.  Our way.

Yours Truly,
Judgey Wudgey
aka Something She Dated
aka Your bros favorite ho
aka That girl who wasted your time being coy
aka That girl who hates being HardToGet & says fuck it! every so often
aka Helping boys make changes through admittance, acceptance and change
aka Dating Vancouver a better place one “something” at a time

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

Dear Boys, Nobody Likes to Be a Sideshow


[dropcap]I[/dropcap]t’s come to my attention.  As of late.  That I’ve been dating idiots.  Now don’t get me wrong.  People are inherently beautiful and everybody has their talents and upsides.  But when it comes to dating.  These boys are fucking ridiculous.  And that could very well explain why they’re on Plenty of Fish.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.  But these aren’t boys that are looking for a discussion.  They’re not just dating.  They’re “looking” for something.  And so if a fella is open and willing.  You have to wonder.  Why.  At 36/37/39/etc. his not finding it.  And that brings me back to the idiocy.

And the thing of the thing is.  I kind of don’t mind.  Because while I know most people read this blog for the funny business.  I have some fucking wisdom.  I swear.  To bestow on those willing to read/hear it.  And possibly the friends of those people.  Because someone has to be friends with these ridiculous boys that I’m dating.  They’re not social rejects.  Just.  Boys with maps to dating.  That haven’t been completely drawn in yet.  And so they’re guessing.  When they should be pulling over and asking directions.  And so here I am.  Waiting in the service station.  Throwing nails on the road so they’re forced to pull in to fix a flat.  Ready to guide.

And that’s why I write these Dear Boys posts.  To share the wisdom.  The small amount I have to share.  Because that slogan I came up with awhile back isn’t just a funny catch-phrase.  It’s a bit of the truth.  Mixed in for good measure.  I really am hoping.  To leave a legacy.  Of boys that have become just a little bit better.  Equipped.  More able.  Stellar.  Master daters.  Something She Dated.

Dating Vancouver a Better Place…One “Something” at a Time.  

So that’s me.  Taking one for the team.  Jumping on a grenade for you.  Ladies of Vancouver, BC.  And possibly even more widespread.  Because after all.  Boys migrate.  So you never know.  Atlanta.  Paris.  Saskatoon.  Prague.  One day you just might owe me a thank you.  But remember.  I don’t take refunds.  And I don’t offer warrantees.

So let’s get down to it, boys.  Because you’re screwing it up.  And you’re grossing me out.  And honestly, it seems obvious enough to me, but I guess I’m going to have to say it, nobody wants to be a sideshow.    Because whether you mean it as a compliment or not.  Compartmentalizing me.  Physically.  Is really insulting. And insecuring.  And ick ick icking me to death.

For example.  When you say (as a dude so recently did on you posted lovely photos (this is good) – you are simply beautiful (keep it coming!).  I truly appreciate a genuine curvy figure (umm…fuck off).  And now just to be clear.  Where the fault lies.  So that there is no doubt.  Is in the appreciation of a genuine curvy figure.  Now if he had said you’re a babe or you’re stunning or something equally clear about thinking I was attractive.  That’d be awesome.  Because I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.  I’m not a chick who can’t take compliments.  But the gross part, is three fold.

First.  I hate the curvy thing.  And I’ll explain why.  Because saying I’m curvy doesn’t convey attraction.  It conveys sideshow.  Nobody wants a chubby chaser.  Because the thing of the thing is.  I don’t want the dude who likes fat chicks.  I want the dude who likes me.  Huge difference.  And further to this.  The word curvy is a thorn in my side.  My not curvy but chubby bunny side.  Because I’ll tell you.  Every fat girl has taken enough shit from dudes (and chicks) who would criticize them for daring to call themselves curvy.  Curvy being a coke bottle shape.  Curvy being 36-24-36.  Curvy being Vida Guerra or These Models.  And I am not curvy.  I’m beautiful.  I’m adorable.  I have value and all that other stuff.  But I’m not cruvy.  I’m less Marilyn Monroe and more Beth Ditto.  But most of all, I’m just me.

Second.  The word appreciate.  Now I know I’m going to catch some flack from all of you.  Something like you’re being too critical or stop being such a word nazi or something akin to this.  But to me.  Saying he appreciates my curves is honestly a bit of a jellyfisher.  Because what he’s really saying is that he’s different.  He appreciates what I have…fill in the blank____when others do not____.  And so it becomes just another signpost that this fella wants to take a detour to chubby town.  Whether he regularly vacations there or just heard about this great special.  But either way.  It yet again.  Makes me feel like a sideshow.  Objectified.  And not in an awesome way.  But in a yellow-fever, jungle-fever, chubby chaser, freak show type of way.

And finally.  Just in a totally word-nerd kind of way.  What’s with the genuine?  Like as opposed to the other girls.  Who are fake curvy?  What the fuck does that even mean.  So my dear boys, my dear dear boys.  This is my advice to you.


Dear boys,

Ick.  To every dude who likes a chick with some meat on her bones.  Or finds himself attracted to some ethnicities over others.  Nobody Likes To Be a Sideshow.  The way to your woman’s heart.  The key to your ladies panties.  Is not by making her feel like a freak.  It’s not by making her feel like if she were a hamburger that you only ever like her beef.  She is a whole dish.  A WHOLE dish.  And if you can’t appreciate her for that.  You should damn well keep it to yourself.  And honestly for her sake and yours move on.  But don’t tell her.  Don’t fucking make it clear that you just want her for something arbitrary and out of her control.  Because she’s not a circus act.  And you won’t win her over by talking about her tightrope.  Just Sayin’ boys.  Step your game up.  She’ll appreciate you for it.

Yours Truly,
Judgey Wudgey
aka Something She Dated
aka Your boys favorite chubby bunny
aka That girl 2 treadmills over getting closer to curvy status
aka Helping boys woo their ladies one compliment at a time
aka Dating Vancouver a better place one “something” at a time

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

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



[dropcap]D[/dropcap]ear Boys,

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yours Truly,

Judgey Wudgey

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


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