A New “Something”: The Scientist

Dating a Scientist

 

Many people have been quick to point out to me, I have a history of dating…er…um…well…hot and dumb?  Though it should be noted, I was recently telling my mother that it’s not so much that I’m some vain asshole picking hotness over smartness, these are the guys that are choosing me.  And if I’m going to date a dumb guy, he might as well be hot, no?  Now I’m not saying I’m some kind of smarty pants, but there is something to be said for the fact that I have 2 BAs and am working on my MA.  Needless to say, I clearly value higher education and intelligence.

But I digress, THIS is about the Scientist.  So here goes…

He messaged me on OkCupid.  He asked intelligent questions (and never mentioned my tits once), our conversations included paragraphs (it was actually fun getting to know him), he seemed really interesting (he’s traveled all over the world), and it seemed like we would probably have a lot in common.  Oh, and he’s getting his PhD in Neuroscience.  No biggie.

In all honesty, my only hesitation was his height – 5’9.  Now, don’t get me wrong, height isn’t everything, and it’s not even necessarily a downside but the thing of it is that when the guy isn’t particularly tall – I feel bigger.  I’m already fairly tall at 5’7 and add to that I’m a BBW or Plus size or whatever you want to call it chubby bunny, and then if the guy isn’t tall sometimes I feel a bit like, like, well like, I take on a bit of a masculine energy.  But I digress, my issues aside, he seemed like a cool dude (and smart as fuck, have I mentioned that yet, that he’s super smart, well more on this later!)

Detour.  It was the week of my 32nd birthday.  I had just started to get back into dating (read: put up dating profiles on POF and OKCupid) and I had 3 potential first dates coming up.  The first was with a really pushy French guy (from France, big surprise) who, even though I pretty clearly stated that I was looking to hang out in an area of Montreal that I was familiar with, was trying to convince me to trek my way on an adventure to a hookah joint (that was conveniently only a block from his house, though I had already clearly said no, I don’t want to have a drink on your terrace, I’m not comfortable with that for a first date).  Needless to say, boys, pushiness is not a turn on and I eventually decided it wasn’t worth the stress and texted to cancel (well in advance though, so don’t you worry).  The second guy was Skinny Jeans, and we all know how that turned out.  And then the third brings us back to this story, The Scientist.

Unfortunately, with classes, TAing, my first date with Skinny Jeans on my bday, and my own birthday party, I had booked up the whole week except for Saturday.  Even more unfortunately, the Scientist was running the Montreal Marathon that day which would put him out of commission for another two (as I imagine running that kind of distance basically cripples you for a day or so after).  And then, as luck would have it, that brings us back to the days I have class again and the point of this lengthy story is to tell you that from the time he actually first asked me out, it would be another week and a half before we got to meet.

One of the problems with making a date that far in advance is it is both too much and not enough time all at once.  It’s too much time to spend waiting (because you’d be surprised how much you can convince yourself you don’t want to go on a first date after your first date back in over a year is a total flop).  And yet, it’s entirely too much time because normally when you’ve started talking to someone, you…ya know…talk to them, but when you’re waiting for a first date, there is a big part of you (and it’s an advisable part, I admit) that doesn’t want to talk to the other person.  You are, after all, saving up your most interesting banter and stories for the first date, when you’ll impress them with your flawless conversation.  So, during those 10 or so days it was almost radio silence, on both sides, while we waited for our big date.

By which time, of course, I was feeling a bit more like this, than excited to meet a new fella:

 

 

But obviously I didn’t bail because I’m not a total jackass and when thursday rolled around, I got all gussied up and ready for our date.  I was running a tad behind, as per usual, so was planning to catch a cab so I wouldn’t be late, when the Scientist called and, apologizing profusely, asked if we could please push our date by 45 minutes so that he could attend an art show of a friend that he’d forgotten he’d promised to attend.

No sweat, I told him, let’s push it an hour so that you’re not rushed.  Plus, now I could save cab fare and take the bus, hoorays all around.  When I showed up at the cafe, the place was super cute but also really dead.  I must’ve been looking around confused because the hostess asked if I was meeting someone–yep–a guy?–yep–around the corner.  And there he was.  We hugged, I sat down, and so it began…

My First Date In Montreal: A New “Something” Called France

First Dates

 

[dropcap]S[/dropcap]o France had seen my facebook.  I waited patiently.  Would he think me lovely?  Would he still want to meet me?  Am I just as adorable in my ‘perfect pose’ photos as I am in the ‘having fun and living real life’ photos?

His response said it all.  Something like OMG you’re so curvy I love it! and you’re a magnifique woman!!! wow.  (I say “something like” because with the language barrier and all you can understand my not giving a shit that he said u r instead of you’re and a few other grammatical errords but I don’t want to drive you guys mad with it…so can go ahead and assume I’m ‘editing’ things for the rest of this post (and all the others probably). So yeah.  Swoon.  And I didn’t even mind him using the word curvy…I mean he’s French and all…whatever.

I said some things.  And then he reiterated the point…he thought I was sexy as fuck (in as many words) but it was more than that he said…I was awesome.  And then as we were talking about the gym he even made a joke about how I could forget the gym…he liked me just the way I was.  I mean, fuck.  *falls of chair and doesn’t even care* SWOON!

Sidenote:  Jesus I’m easy to woo with a couple bullshit lines though eh? (I mean I’m not saying they were bullshit from him…hopefully he meant them…but seriously…dudes…it’s so easy…how can you guys not make this shit happen?!?!)

Then I said something about here I was thinking you could train me and he said Yes…I can train you…to which I replied…I bet you could.  Smooth right?  We texted for awhile longer.  Talked about how I’m a nightowl (something that would later haunt me…well maybe haunt me…maybe a good thing…you’ll see).  Talked about how he was excited to get back to training (he was just recovering from a muscle injury of some kind).  And real talk…if this was him out of shape…fuck.  No.  Words.  And then finally, with my hairdryer sitting in a box ready to be opened we made plans to hang out.

I think he still thought I might take him up on the whole help-me-construct-my-ikea-furniture-thing as I still hadn’t put my bed together yet (read: was still sleeping on the world’s most uncomfortable futon) but that wasn’t quite how I saw things.  The conversation actually started with something as simple as so what are you doing today? and I said that I was going to be putting my furniture together and he said can it wait, I am seeing a friend later but I could come help after? and things just progressed from there.  I figured he could swing by and we could just for a walk.  My friend always suggested to me that when I meet dates it doesn’t have to be at a coffee spot.  Just grab some beers and hang out in a park she said and while that wasn’t really my style (given that I’m sober) and a park seems a little sketch…the idea of him coming here and taking a little walk while we see what’s what sounded pretty good.  Plus, I’m not going to lie…it was still really hot and humid here and the idea of trekking somewhere and showing up all hot and bothered didn’t really appeal to me.  The idea that he would show up here and I would be all blissfully freezing (having just made love to my air conditioner) sounded perfect.

And for anyone freaking out about me having a guy know where I live etc., it’s a big apartment building, my name isn’t anywhere on anything, there’s always a night door man and it’s locked.  Not to mention there seems to always be people everywhere here…guess that’s downtown summer living for ya.

The only thing that did have me a tad apprehensive was that we weren’t meeting till like 11:30pm (see: nightowl ass biting).  But here’s the thing of the thing.  In Montreal…and other major cities (major major not like Vancouver major)…people do things later.  And it’s no big deal.  Eating dinner at 10pm like it’s nothing.

Additionally, given the language barrier and school starting soon…and my desire not to be in a committed relationship (at least not long term)…I’m not sure I had any real designs or hopes for how this would all turn out.  I mean being completely honest, if he just turned out to be the hottest booty call I’d ever had…I’d be satisfied with that.

And afterall…I could’ve put it off for another night when he’d be free earlier but…uh…no patience.

Plus.

My god.

If only.

If I could.

If only I could show you.

The hottness.  Like licking the sun.  Like the African desert.  Like my loins after looking at his pictures.  So.  Fucking.  Hot.

I’m not sure if I mentioned it before but he came here from France to play football.  When that didn’t take him to the moon he focused on personal training.  And I can only imagine how many lonely ladies must book with him simply because he’s so fucking hot…(I would…just to be clear…I sooooooooo would…well except that I wouldn’t want him to see me all disgusting and sweaty and panting [though I’ve had exes reassure me they think watching me workout is super sexy] but still).

So yeah.  I’ve even thought about cropping the photos just so you could see his bod, his chest, his super human abs.  But he’s so prolificially covered in tattoos that I’d be petrified someone who knows him would see it and rat me out.  So you’ll just have to take my word for it.  And the words of my friends who I so obviously texted his photos too and who no doubt will be using those photos when their mens are out of town.  Real talk.  Even their men are drooling.

So I digress.  Needless to say, I wasn’t about to wait any no longer to meet France (which is the psudonym I’ve given him because HOTTEST GUY EVER! MOST HOT! SO HOT! COULDN’T YOU JUST DIE FROM HOW HOT HE IS?!?! seemed like a bit of an asshole move…so yeah…France it is).  Plus anyone who knows me, or even just reads this blog, knows how much I actually HATE first meetings.  So awkward.  Most nervous.  *vom*  So getting it out of the way is always a heavy motivator for me.

We made plans.  Text me when you’re here  I said.  He was very understanding btw of me not wanting him to come inside on this first meet.  I totally understand.  Nice.  I mean not that dudes are usually huge dicks like let me up repunzel!!! or anything but still, very sweet about it.

And then before I knew it, it was 11:15 and he texted to tell me he was ready and did I want to take a walk.  I gave him my address.  No response.  2 minutes later I texted, do you know where that is?  No response.  2 minutes later he texted back I’m here.

Eeeekk!!  Gimme 3 minutes I said I hadn’t expected you to get here so fast.  His response lol.  It’s okay I was near.  And then he mentioned how about 2 months ago he had been looking at a place here and how the pool on the roof was nice.  I threw on my shoes and hussled down to meet him.  Admittedly I was a bit thrown when I came out of the door to the apartment building and there were about 10 people there.  Not all together.  A couple here.  A group of friends there.  A few guys by themselves.  The place was happening.  But immediately I felt super awkward and my terrifying fear of not being able to recognize the person I’m meeting began to choke me.  Especially when I looked over at one of the guys and thought…what the fuck…can that really be him?

To my relief…it was not.  He was the dude a few feet over.  The dude who looked just like his photos.  The dude who was absolutely fucking adorable (and hot…though sadly he had his shirt on…as normal men tend to do).  I walked over.  He recognized me right away.  I sort of went in for a hug (as I’m want to do…I’m a hugger…what can you do).  Unfortunately it was a tad clumsy because with him being European and all he was all down with the double cheek kiss and well I’m a spaz. 

I suggested a direction and we began.  At first it was a bit awkward.  I was nervous.  He was nervous (I think).  First dates are super awkward yo!  Plus add to that that I wasn’t familiar with his accent, he wasn’t familiar with mine and I tend to talk super fast when I’m excited and there were definitely a few slow starts with the conversation.  Soon, however, things went a bit more smoothly.  To be honest, it’s a bit of a blur.  I’m pretty sure at some point he said he’d gone out with something like 8 chicks in the 4 years he’d been on and off the site (he went back to France at some point, had a relatioship or two, etc.).  I, in super awkward and spazzy fashion, made a joke and called him a slut.  That took a minute or two to iron out.  Apparently humor doesn’t always translate well.  But by the end we were all a giggle and having a lovely little chat.

And then before I knew it we were almost back at my apartment building.  Sad face.  I didn’t really want it to end yet.  Apparently he didn’t either because he suggested we have a seat on this brick ledge thing.  We talked for awhile.  Just about normal stuff.  Like what it was like to grow up in Paris.  And the fact that I’m a writer (I even told him what kinds of stuff I write about and even mentioned that I blog for The Province (so here’s hoping he’s forgotten that since).  And to my surprise he didn’t really seem phased.  Sure he asked the usual thing boys ask, whether or not I date for actual dating happiness or just to get material for the blog and I assured him most definitely that the dating came first and the blogging was just a side product.  Which is the truth.

Eventually we wrapped things up and it was time to head home.  He walked me to the door, hugged, gave me the double kiss and that was that.  Well, until he texted an hour or so later to tell me You’re very beautiful.  Have a good night and hope to see you soon sweet.  

Le sigh.

Online Dating and First Date Jitters

Dating
[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.

Detour.

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.

Detour.

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*