Come Back Charlies (Part III)


Continued from Come Back Charlies (Part II)

[dropcap]…But[/dropcap] that wasn’t the end of it though.  Not by a long shot.  He was just the first.  The first Come Back Charlie.  The first boy who mistook me for easy.  The first boy to return and announce by his actions (or messages as the case may be) that he was absolutely fucking retarded.  Moreover, that he thought that I, was absolutely fucking retarded but boy was he mistaken.

And I don’t know who was spreading these rumors of delusion.  I don’t know who was whispering in their ears. Pshh pss psst pssh ppssst You should give it another go Pshh pss psst pssh ppssst You should try her again Pshh pss psst pssh ppssst She totally gives second chances and definitely doesn’t put up walls between herself and those who have jilted her.  I bet it was some magic little sprite.  Leading them all astray.  If only they knew.  But alas.  Maybe the same way Bitter Betty doesn’t always know she’s bitter.  Come Back Charlie’s might not always know they’re retarded.

And so back they came.  Charlie #2 and Charlie #3.  Both of whom were “somethings” that could have been but never were.  Maybe they lacked balls.  They were shy.  Just a case of the pans.  Maybe I was a backup chick.  A third tier.  Just a fallback and not a priority.  Maybe they were just fucking retarded.  Out of touch with the physical act of dating (that which entails a meeting).  Perhaps they simply didn’t know how to plan.  Just not as smart as me.  But whatever it was.  They never made it past the first step.  Fucking babies.

Charlie #2 was the 2nd potential “something” there ever was.  After Barbie.  Before Garbage Man.  He was black.  He was hot.  He was a native ATLien.  Win.  Win.  Win.  He was 32 and tall like Kobe.  Almost.  6’4.  Close enough.  He’d played basketball at SFU (not a first for me oddly enough) and graduated with a BSc.  The wooing started with messages.  Messages led to texting.  Texting led to plans.  More than once.  And more than once those plans were broken.  And thus I’m out was my sentiment expressed.  And yet.  He still called.  And upon not getting the response he sought.  Contact stopped.  Done.

I should mention.  Just in case you’re not super up to date on the whole time line that is this dating journey of mine.  This all occurred over roughly the period of November/December 2009.  So you can imagine my surprise.  When December 2010 rolls around.  For all you non-math majors that’s a mother-fucking year.  A fucking year gone by and then who should stroll his ass into my POF inbox?  None other than Charlie #2 himself.  Mr. Atlanta.  Mr. Basketball.  Mr. Planning and failing himself.  I couldn’t fucking believe it.  Right on the tail of The Oxymoronic Lawyer aka Charlie #1.  Here was this douche bag.  Throwing a hail mary.  On the off chance a year would have softened me??  Honestly I don’t what he was thinking.  We’d only ever talked on the phone maybe once.

But I know this.  I wasn’t buying.  No thanks.  Take those wears and peddle them elsewhere.  Mamma isn’t interested.  Because his messages (yes plural).  Well.  They weren’t anything to write home about.  No confession narrative about what a retard he’d been.  No diatribe about the trials and tribulations that had kept him from my deserving arms (deserving of awesomeness, not deserving of his idiotic tendencies).  Nothing about how he had changed or how things would be different.  Until.  Wait for it.  Wait for it.  I asked him!

Oh don’t act so fucking shocked.  You know me better than that by now.  I’m Engaging Edith.  Mother fucking Questioning Quinn.  I just can’t help myself.  I seek answers.  However, I’m not a naive child anymore.  Because when I get the unsatisfactory answers (as they most surely are).  I walk away.  Nonchalant Nancy.  Learned my Lesson Lisa.  Walk.  The Fuck.  Away.  And I did.  Just like that.  And his answer.  FYI.  For what was different?  Oh.  He’d grown up.  Retard, please!

And I know what you’re thinking.  Wow.  Charlie #1 (aka The Lawyer) and Charlie #2 (aka Mr. Basketball) both returning for a second shot.  Another crack at the bat.  Within what.  Like a two week period?  Christmas break?  Yep…That was exactly two weeks.  December 21, 2010 – January 4, 2011.  That’s crazy.  Only the thing is.  Not even close to crazy enough.  Because of course.  After all.  You know for sure (foreshadowing).  That there is at least (foreshadowing) one more Charlie, Charlie #3.

But alas my loves.  It is late.  And this story does indeed drag on.  Like any good never-ending story should.  And yet this delicate flower needs her beauty sleep.  So this story will have to yet again be put on hold.  To be resumed soon.  And I will have to bid you adieu.  Until I can return.  And begin again, with the saga of Charlie #3.

To Be Continued…


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

Good and Bad Kissers: Is It In His Lips?


It’s relative, sure.

Some people are leaders.  Some people are followers.  Some people like soft and sensual.  Some people like deep and passionate,.  A kiss with force.  Some people are just lucky they’ve found someone willing to let them hoover on down and slobber on up.


We all know I love Science.

I like facts and figures.  I like knowing things.  I want answers and explanations.  I want to know about aberrations and anomalies.  I want to know about replicatable skills and test subjects.  I want to know about sociology and psychology.  I am curious.  I am eager.  I am a student of dating.

The Tie In.

But here’s the thing about kissing.  White boys kiss different.  No lie.

Okay, wait.  That’s so very unscientific of me.  Let me rephrase.  The white boys, that I have been kissing, as of late, kiss very differently, than Mega Love and the black guys that preceded him.  Is that a little more precise.


Now I will concede the following potential variables in my findings:

Prior to October 2009 were the six years I spent kissing Mega Love.  That’s a lot of kissing.  Passionate kisses.  Soft kisses.  Drunk kisses.  Nightclub kisses.  Kisses in dark movie theatres.  Stolen kisses on public streets.  Hello kisses.  Goodbye kisses.  Kissing-away-my-tears kisses.  Can’t-breathe-without-you kisses.  True Blood-is-on-and-we-can’t-control-ourselves-another-single-second kisses.  Wake you up at 3am for lovin’ kisses.  Distract-me-from-turbulence-till-the-stewardess-comes-with-my-sugar-free-jones-cream-soda-in-a-real-glass-in-first-class kisses.  Skype-across-continent kisses.  Must-keep-from-leading-further-first-attempt-at-closure kisses.  Leading-somewhere closure kisses.  Final kisses.  That’s a lot of kissing.

Now for those unaware.  Mega Love is Black.  His lips.  Beautiful.  Full.  Juicy.  Delicious.  Amazing.  Maybe they have something to do with it.  Maybe they don’t.  My lips are fairly full themselves.  My bottom lip has been known to give the impression I’m pouting when I’m not at all.

When Mega Love and I would kiss.  It was wonderful.  He would ebb and I would flow, he would flow and I would ebb.  Flawless Tango.  He would play with my bottom lip, suck it gently, kiss it, play with it, our lips would play with each other.  I would stipulate that it’s a possibility that it was because we knew each other so well and experience and all that.  But I really don’t think that’s it.  Because I remember the kissing in the beginning.

I can actually still picture our first kiss right now.  I can see him sitting on a bar stool at the side of the dance floor.  I’m standing between his legs and wrapped in his arms.  He’s just told me how good of a dancer he thinks I am…though I don’t need him to say it, I can see the shock on his face white girl got moves.

But I digress.  We’re getting off on a tangent.  So back on point.  The white boys.  Of late.  And their kissing.

The Tie In.

So the first guy I kissed after Mega Love was Garbage Man.  And I’m not going to lie.  Not great.  Chemistry was hot, sure.  But actual kissing.  hmm…well…it was okay.  First I should admit, being that I hadn’t kissed someone NEW…sober…in almost a decade I was fucking nervous.  So it’s always possible I contributed to the lack of awesomeness.  But even regardless of technique.  There was a decidedly lacking amount of lip.  Perhaps it was actual physical makeup (they were definitely white people lips) perhaps technique/style.

Intelligence Officer (fix link) was good.  Still not the most amazing ever.  But far better than Garbage Man.  Far.  Plus the chemistry and frankly everything about the whole night was awesome.  But still.  A specific lacking of lip play.  His lips were still definitely white, but by no means lacking in size enough that it should be relevant.  So why was there no lip.  And I’m saying, sometimes I’d try.  And Guide.  Play a little, catch and release.  A little stop and tease, till it was clear, it’s my turn to lead for just this moment.  But where Mega Love’s lips would pony up with ease…Intelligence Officer was giving me little to work with.

Twitter Guy (fix link) was good.  Like Intelligence Officer the kissing was good.  But still.  This lip thing.  This lack of lip thing.  And maybe it’s a first date thing.  A nervous thing.  A shy thing.  A work up to thing.  But it’s a thing nonetheless.  A decidedly white guy thing.

But it’s a thing.  And I miss it.  So I ask you.  Is this phenom specific to these “somethings“?  Wherein lies the difference?  Is it in their lips?  Is it a White boy thing?  Is it a me with novel “somethings” thing?  Is it possible *gasp* *shock* *awe* that I’m not that great of a kisser?

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

My Kingdom for an H: Adventures in Dating

Dating Mistakes

[dropcap]5 days[/dropcap] have passed since the H. and the phone call with Garbage Man.

He texts.   He SSD.  Just thinking about you thought I would say hi.
I respond accordingly.  banter.  banter.  back to studying.
4 more days pass.
He texts.  Studying Hard?
Me.  Yeah I’m studying my ass (in retrospect turns out I never typed “off” but he appeared to let it slide)
sexy banter.  sexy banter.  back to studying.

6 more days pass.  I decide to put in some minimal effort.

I text.  How was your weekend…get up to anything fun.

He responds accordingly.  banter.  banter.  back to studying.

3 more days pass.

He texts.  banter.  banter.  back to studying.

4 more days pass.

I text.  Hey Gman…off to Vegas for the weekend…

Him.  Have fun.  Place a bet for me.  Talk to you when you get back.

Me.  Will do.

4 more days pass.

I text.  Back from Vegas.

He responds accordingly.  cute banter.  very cute banter. it’s getting late.  We’re trying to figure out what he’s doing for his birthday aka I have plans on Saturday but are we going to hang out Friday night.

He texts.  Hey SSD, can I call you tomorrow night?

Me.  Sounds good.  back to studying.

Sidebar:  Up to this point he has been very attentive with the texting.  Reliable, responsive…things are finally looking up.  But…I think this too soon.

“Tomorrow night” rolls around….7…8…9…10…are you kidding me?  Though I’m trying not to not actually paying that much attention because I have my final final the next day and it’s high-stakes study mode.  My phone has been switched to silent.  Around 11 I take a little peak and find this idiocy.

10:45pm  —  Hey SSD sorry I just been busy call me.
10:54pm  —  Not sure which # to call

Well here’s clue you useless excuse for a human being  average well-meaning person?  If you’re sending text messages to a phone…it’s a cell…that’s your best bet…because if you call my house…at this hour…shit well just forget it.  Only here’s the thing of the thing.  Take a risk.  Pick one and dial.  But no call ever comes.  Around 11:30pm I decide to send a quick text (I don’t want to be a hypocrite and become non-responsive do I?)

Me.  It’s late and I’m still studying.  talk tomorrow I guess.

Thursday arrives.  I take my final final.  It goes brilliantly.  I get two different papers back from different classes.  A- and A.  Fucking eh!  I’m on cloud 23…things are peachy keen.

I text.  School’s Out!!!  Gimme a shout when you have some time.  This #

no response.

I text.  Did you not get my last text message are you really this busy?  (admittedly a little bit of crazy may be showing but I blame Telus Mobility).

no response.

Next day.  His birthday.

Me.  Happy Birthday.  (I admit this is overboard…2 texts with no response…but just as I wouldn’t want to talk shit about a friend’s ex only to have them get back together…I don’t want to be the bitchy Betty who skipped his birthday wishes if we end up dating later lol!)

no response.

Next day.

Me.  Hey Garbage Man so i gotta say i don’t think this is going to work.  you manage to keep in touch for 4 weeks while i study but fall off completely now that I’m done? 

The next text message we send at the exact same time.  Sure it’s always possible he responds and then immediately turns his phone off until the following day but this seems little unlikely.

Me.  (technically it’s part 2 of one message)  Honestly it would’ve been cool to hang out but i just think you’re too busy and I can’t stand unresponsiveness which is a bad combo…makes sense right?

Him.  Sorry been busy.  Going out for dinner.  Probably not going to be able to see you this weekend.  Hopefully ttyl.

No shit we’re not going to see each other this weekend.  With the sporadic text messaging I had already made some plans (and even if I hadn’t would surely be faking some regardless!).


*Light bulb Moment*


No I say light bulb moment but let’s be serious for a moment.  I am the chick that never leaves a party early (something awesome might happen!).  So I play along…just for a bit…just because I want to see how this plays out…just because though completely frustrating…I’m not at all emotionally invested so I figure it’s still heart-safe to keep participating…for the moment.

Next day.  Like he’d only just got the second half of the message now or something.  And admittedly this is where it starts to get a bit not good negotiation-y.  My crazy begins to show.  I’m pretty much mortified by the whole thing but let it never be said that I don’t blog  a. the whole truth  b. even when it’s my crazy showing.

Him.  Ouch.  I get up at 520 in the morning so I’m in bed early.  Too bad.  It would have been nice to get to know you better.

Me.  Why Ouch?  it’s nothing personal.  I just think you’re too busy for me to date – don’t you think?

Him.  It only matters what you think.

Me.  True.  Guess I was just asking in case I was out in left field or something and you wanted to prove me wrong.

Him.  I could prove you wrong but if your mind is made up why waste time.

Me.  If it was made up i wouldn’t still be texting or trying to hang out.

Him.  I’m confused.  shocker.  understandable.

Me.  About what?  (not because I didn’t believe he was confused but I figured there were so many possible things he could be confused over I would need him to narrow it do so I could clarify).

Me.  Does this help…I’d love it if you proved me wrong and showed you had time to date me…

No response.  Next day.

Him.  I would like to date but not sure what kind of time you would like?

I don’t respond to this right away.  I’m not really sure how to.  It’s not like I devised a mathematical equation for dating…like dates on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday with phone calls on alternating Wednesdays and twice on Sunday…I just want to date…and if we’re not actually going to see each other…stop wasting my time (and text messages) and I’ll get back on the prowl (oh who am I kidding…I mean devote more time to the prowl as I never really left).  Plus I don’t like this question on the basis that it’s another indication he’s slightly retarded (don’t normally people know what dating normal amounts would be?) and it makes me feel like demanding Debbie…but I have to respond something (though I vaguely consider just never responding and leaving the scenario as “the cool one” lol!).  I am not though…read on.

Me.  I don’t know it’s not like a set thing but if i like someone I’d kind of expect to hang out like 1-2 times a week i guess.  Though them wanting to [hang out] would be the most important.

And that my friends is the end of the story.  It’s been 3 days with no response.  Sure it’s possible he texted and Telus fucked with my social life again.  Sure it’s possible he never even got my text.  Perhaps he’s logically mulling it over unlikely.  But the thing of the thing is…I’ve let far more crazy show then I would have preferred and I’m all efforted out.  Garbage Man and I have now known each other twice as many months as we’ve had dates and although that may bode well for him liking me it does not bode well for a summer of fun and stress less dating.

Am I frustrated that he wasn’t cool and we didn’t have a great third date and I didn’t get to have some frisky fun and most importantly get that “first sex after the ex sex” out of the wayDefinitely.
Am I sad?  Not at all.
Was the frustration worth the hilarity and few good times?  One Hundred Percent!
Would I prefer the hilarity and good times without the frustration (drama)?  Obviously (give me some credit)
Am I ready for the next fella?  Definitely.

The ride was bumpy sure…but definitely not a deterrent…Onto the next ride…

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

My Kingdom for an H: Another Dating Disaster

Head Desk

You won’t believe it.  I mean you really won’t believe it.  And yet I knew who it was before Alice Cooper had even sung his second  poison…your poison running through my veins (my ringtone).  Okay well technically I can’t really claim I knew because well how do you test for that once everything has become hindsight-style…but logic aside…I fucking knew.

6 weeks since 2nd date with Garbage Man (aka Houdini)
2 weeks since last contact with him
1.5 weeks since The TEDisaster
1 week since taking down all dating profiles in an effort to have complete focus on schoolwork till the end of term paper madness and final exams
4 weeks until all term papers are due and final exams will be over

Regardless of the time that had passed and TEDisasters that had happened and the fact that I DO (I swear) have friends that could be texting me.  I knew it was him.  From another room.  I knew.  And there it was.  A text message from none other than….Garbage Man

But wait…it gets better…the text message was the most brilliant piece of articulate literature you will ever encounter in your life.  No? You don’t beleive me?  Surely you expect something high caliber and exsquisite from the man that brought you bison in bed?  Still no?  You have such low expectations of a man who couldn’t manage to deliver a third date inside a 4 month window?  Okay so you’re right.  The text said this:


Need me to repeat that?


Still not quite clear?  It’s a fucking H.  Now I know we’ve had our share of technical difficulties in the past and I will readily admit that Telus Mobility is single-handedly trying to ruin my social life with its unreliability but seriously?

And here’s where it all goes downhill.  And I mean really downhill.  Not like the downhill you’ve seen already but like watersliding down a zero gravity shoot downhill.  Because I can clearly CLEARLY see now that I should have just walked away (metaphorically) and deleted that retarded*(see video below) H (literally) but I’m a student of curiousity and I couldn’t fathom not finding out what the deal was.  So I responded (please save all jugement and ridicule till the end).

Me:  You might want to resend that because all I got was an H.

no response.

I decide to just call because I don’t have the patience to await a text response.

no answer.  I don’t leave a message.

Are you fucking serious?  Now don’t get me wrong…I’ve sent a text message or two to my friends and then gone into a class or a movie or something.  But seriously…to a chick you’re trying to get?  That screams stupid to me…but I digress.

15-20 minutes go by and I get a text.

Him: Hey SSD.  Sorry I’m just making dinner.  How are u?  Can I call you after I eat about an hour?

I find this mind boggling.  Not only have has he been a total fucking retard basically since right after the first date but now he texts only to then ask me to wait for him?  Why did you ever bother texting!!!???!!

But that’s not what I say.  I tell him sure.  call me at home.

And now I feel the need to reiterate something I may or may have not mentioned before that may or may not make me look like slightly less of a ridiculously stupid girl who puts up with stupid stuff and then wonders why stupid stuff keeps happening.  I had a mega love relationship.  Mega love did not conquer all.  Mega love lost.  I got over the mega love but could not be less interested in finding new mega love again right now.  I just want to date.  I’ve never really dated before.  I want to go out and have lots and lots of fun (don’t read: super slutty…I mean actual clothes on 80s summer activies fun…mini-golf go carts batting cages fun).  Thus because I’m not looking for a husband to be…I’ve set the sights a little lower…though I like to think of it as being less judgmental also known as being breezy.  Add to that the scarring first date that was the TEDisaster and you could say I might be putting up with a little more than I normally would in an effort not to have to have a first date.  now back to the show…

He calls.  It’s a little awkward at first…mainly because I don’t feel any inclination to make this particularly easy for him by being my chatty self and also because frankly I’m waiting for some kind of explanation of why he’s so ridiculous.  He doesn’t offer one up.

I was recently having a conversation with a friend who brought it to my attention that not everyone thinks like I do.  In fact most don’t.  I personally find this hard to understand (clearly I do everything the best and right way) and yet its believable (this would certainly explain other drivers) that not everybody owns a copy of my rule book (a whole other blog post forthcoming soon).  Something worth considering.  Perhaps something I should mention.

So I do mention it to him.  In a nice way.  That I can’t stand un-responsive (non-responsive, irresponsive?) people.  In hindsight I should have been even more specific…I generally feel that there is a 4 hour window for text messages that require a response.  Yes there are exceptions.  Lots of them in fact.  But if you’re trying to date me…you’d do well to get back to me quickly…it’s that simple.

I balls-out ask why he didn’t call in the last 2 weeks or more so the 2 before that.  He offers up some bullshit about figuring some stuff out and basically the jist is that he’s miserable at his job, it’s really hard on his body blah blah blah.

So here’s the thing of the thing…just as I let certain things slide because I’m not looking for a relationship…I’m also specifically NOT INTERESTED in other things.  Case in point:  him getting his life together, his trials and tribulations, you get the idea.  Now this may paint a bitchy picture of me but well…it’s not like I put long term on my dating profile and when asked I’m pretty honest…I want fun fun fun not work work work.

So we talk for a bit more.  He wants to hang out.  I explain that though last month (ya know…when he was dickin’ around with bullshit) I was free as a bird but now I’m solid booked with school for the next month…till exams are over.  He accepts this.  Tells me it’s his bday the day after my last exam.  Suggests we hang out.  (hope he doesn’t expect a present lol!).  I come to this conclusion.  I’ll be putting in no effort.  I’ll be focused on school.  If he wants to keep in touch that’s his work to do and he’s more than welcome to try.  Perhaps this is really ONLY his 2nd chance since this is the first time I really explained…this is how I operate.  We’ll see.

to be continued…

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

Houdini Returns: Authorities Close Case on Garbage Man

Head Desk

[dropcap]Once upon a time [/dropcap]…moderately long ago, there was a magic man named Houdini.  He had a talent for being the date whisperer, peddling wild tales of magic, and performing his wizardry all through the lands of Vancouverdom.  After wooing the beautiful (and modest) princess, Something She Dated, on that wild and crazy web of interconnected-ness, they had a magical first date.  Shortly after, Houdini caught the plague that was spreading like wild fire across these here parts.  But SSD was in a trance, held by what she believed were his charms and witty repartee, but in hindsight was simply a state of neutrality that comes with not being a total douche (aka he was just an average knight – no shining armor).  So she waited for him to heal.  Like Rapunzel dangling her hair out the window, SSDated dangled texts about her kissing having been known to cure illness.  They giggled and he got better.  Then on their second date they went hunting and he shot a Bison (or at least she thought that was what happened…at the very least she knew there had been a lot of talk about meat.  Sadly, in the few weeks that followed, Houdini lived up to the connotations of his magician’s name and disappeared.  Was it faulty lines of communication (horses with broken hooves, bandits in the forest intercepting messages, a flood leaving the town in total choas?), or just a case of a knight with tarnished armor and a princess under his spell?

So after the second date aka “more meat and less greet” I still had hopes that Houdini aka Garbage Man and I might carry on and have some fun. Shocking I know, and in hindsight, so shameful. Try to bear in mind that after six years of lockdown and an arsenal of subpar flirting skills (the best of which include, “you’re cute…shall we make out?”) I was in desperate need of dating experience.

To be blunt, Garbage man was like a workout. I was flexing my dating muscles and getting my flab in shape. First dates were like push ups, first kisses like lat pulls and you could say I was hoping to get in a lunge or two.

1st Friday since Meat Date
He texts – Want to hang out tonight?
I text back – busy, tomorrow night?
He texts back – dinner with mom, don’t know when I’ll be back.
I don’t respond. 4 hours go by (I’m sure it becomes obvious I will not be responding lol!).
He texts again – Hey Sexy, I would really love to spend some time with you tomorrow night.
I cave, sort of.
I text back – Give me a shout when you’re back and if I’m free we’ll hang out.

Night arrives, whooshes past and sticks its tongue out at me in the rear-view, no contact ever comes.

He texts. I only respond because I’m curious after leaving me in the lurch last night why even bother?
So I ask How was your weekend?
He texts Really sucky because I didn’t get to see you.  The rest of his message is, long story short, all about phone unreliability and I start to wonder why didn’t he just call…ya know…like dial actual numbers instead of texting???

More yaketty yak about mobile dysfunction (something about dropping it and it shorting out) *eyes roll* but asks about hanging out this weekend. I suggest Friday.

2nd Friday since Protein Extravaganza
The plan is to hang out Friday night, only he gets back to me too late. He originally asked on Wednesday and then when I responded for details…silence…he logs on numerous times but doesn’t respond till Friday afternoon (is he shitting me???) asking to hang out that night or if not on Saturday. Obviously I message back…I’ve got plans tonight….I’ll message you tomorrow.

He logs onto POF (yes I check lol!  He has me saved as a favorite so obviousloy I check duh!) at 10am. I message at noon – Hey Garbage, you still want to hang out tonight?

Cloud of Smoke
Disappearing Act
Like a Fairy Tale

And then nothing…
He doesn’t log in all week…

3rd Friday since Bison Ball
Get an email from Plenty of Fish announcing message from Garbage Man. Don’t bother reading it…yet; I had decided not to do anything “dating” related because of major schoolwork crunch all weekend. (lol I also may have asked TheHell to change my password until Monday just in case I got tempted).

Check the message. It’s some more yaketty yak about phone bullshit. This time it’s water spilled or something. Normally I wouldn’t be so hard on someone but this smells like Garbage (man). I mean Come On! He asks in the saddest English possible, “Am I ever wanting to talk to him?” My response (and likely only occurred due to my curiosity to hear his response not because there’s actually a chance it matters)…

“Depends. Is this recent flakiness simply a symptom of unfortunate technological malfunctioning or is it a personality trait?”

The silence can be heard around the world lol! And that my friends is the end of the Garbage Man/Houdini as he disappeared like a pfft! of smoke. I’ve put the bags in the bin, closed the lid on the can, and wheeled it out into the street for pickup.

(Fairy Dust Settles in Vancouverdom)


                           hen the Princess awoke from the enchanting spell placed on her by Houdini, she was refreshed and ready to be courted again. Hopefully the next time she would be a little wiser, a little more protective of her time and perhaps ready to date a vegetarian.

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

Law and Order: Dockett Number 492801: People vs. Garbage Man

Head Desk
The following story is non-fictional
and depicts actual people and events.

(deep voice over)    In the Criminal Justice System, the People are represented by two seperate yet equally important groups;  the Police who investigate crime and the District Attorny (Crown Counsel in Canada) who prosecute the offenders.  These are their stories.

Dun! Dun! (Law and Order sound)
Trial Part 4 
Opening Arguments
Febrauary 20, 2010

Crown:               In summation, I intend to prove that the defendant, Garbage Man, has committed the
crime of  “aggravated assault on future dates”. Pursuant to a conviction by guilty
verdict We, the people, will be seeking damages in the case against TELUS Mobility
Canada for “conspiracy to disrupt relationship formations” to the tune of $10, 000.
(for unreliable mobile service).

Dun! Dun!
Trial Part 19 
Febrauary 20, 2010

Crown:                Court reporter, would you please read aloud the messages which occured the day
after SSD’s “breezy” phone call.  These messages occured between Garbage Man
and SSD on, submitted as exhibits F and G in evidence.

Reporter:             (reading aloud in monotone 80s computer voice)

Gman:                 All better. Have dinner plans Friday, want to hang out afterwards? You could come
to my place or I could drive out to yours maybe? I’m busy rest of weekend. Our
mobile phone companies are incompatible (read: TELUS sucks). Bye Sexy.

SSD:                    Sounds good. I’ll come to your place (SSD specified that she answered the
message accordingly because she hasn’t given him her home phone number yet
so she certainly was not letting him come over to her house). When were you

Gman:                  Dinner is 7, so maybe 830 or 9?

SSD:                     9 is good. What’s your address again?

Gman:                 I’m really looking forward to seeing you again. (sighing and “ahh”ing from the
gallery)  Would it alright if we made it 930? Gives address.

SSD:                    Yeah 930 is fine. Cya then.

(Court reporter is excused and SSD is sworn in)

Crown:               (looking at SSD)  and were you on time?

SSD:                 Well not exactly…you see I spent too much time primping and didn’t leave my house till
9pm…uh…and it’s about a 45 min drive to Gman’s place…and then the highway was shut
down because of a huge accident…and so I had to take this endless detour…but…but…I
called him…(trails off)

Crown:               Please describe the conversation

SSD:                  Well…can I have immunity first please…because I risked calling illegally from my cell
because I didn’t have hands free set up yet)

Crown:               Granted…continue

SSD:                  Okay so it was like this…I called Gman and was like…blah blah traffic…blah blah
unavoidable…blah blah sorry…

Then he was like “You’re pretty punctual usually though aren’t you?”

Then I was like…(Flashback to first date and being a couple minutes late)…uh…yeah
I guess…sometimes I’m late though…(awkward laugh)…

And he was like…(not said in soothing voice, but more disappointed parental tone)…
oh well what can you do…if there’s an accident there’s an accident…blah blah blah
…cya soon…then I hung up.

Crown:               and how did that make you feel, SSD?

SSD:                  Honestly I almost turned around and drove home. I mean Fuck this…oops *blush*
excuse my language Judge…so I was like forget this…I mean the proper response when
someone calls to tell you that they’re going to be late is…(even if it means sucking it up
and faking it)…no worries that’s fine…take your time and drive safe. I mean…we
barely know each other…not to mention he had been the one pushing the time
back earlier anyway right?

Crown:               and so did you turn around?

SSD:                  No. (sighs).  I figured I would give him the benefit of the doubt. Plus I’d just spent like
2 hours primping for him…so I wasn’t going to waste it.

Crown:               Tell us what happened when you arrived at his house.

SSD:                 So when I get to his house, admittedly it is almost 10:30pm and I felt hugely embarrassed
that I was so late…even though mostly it wasn’t my fault…and super awkward because
of how he acted on the phone…plus hello! second date jitters…and then I knocked on the
door…and he pokes his head out just a smidge…and I guess he was trying to be funny
but I kept thinking…yeah…we’re not tight like that yet that joking in an awkward
situation is a good idea…and then…you wouldn’t believe it?!?!

Crown:              Oh, do tell us…please go on…

SSD:                  He was wearing jogging pants!!!

(Gasps are heard around the courtroom. Whispers, pointing and laughter ensue. Judge brings down gavel several times asking for “order!”)

Crown:               And you were shocked at this drastic change in attire from the first date?

Defence:             Objection! Leading the witness!

Judge:                 Sustained

Crown:               I’ll rephrase. What was your reaction to his attire?

SSD:                  I couldn’t freakin’ believe it! I had just spent 2 hours getting myself all super-sexified and
girly and he’s wearing sweat pants? I mean come on! And the thing is, it’s not like I’m
anti-sweat pants…heck I wear them myself when I’m at home…but this was supposed to
be our second date. A Date for Christ’s sake!! And yes…I know…the date did take place
at his humble abode but that does not make practically wearing pyjamas acceptable.
Plus, what moron thinks he’s getting laid in sweat pants???

Defence:             Objection! The witness is using prejudicial characterizations of my client!

Judge:                 Overruled! Defendant wore sweatpants on a date…calling him a moron is not a
characterization it’s a fact.

Crown:                Tell us what happened next SomethingSheDated…

SSD:                    Well…uh…I was so distracted by the whole phone call plus weird door opening plus
jogging pants that I barely said anything for the first…like half hour. Plus he didn’t
even have a movie or something planned to watch. He was watching the Olympics
when I showed up…and so we just kept watching them.

Crown:                Thank you, that is all.  The prosecution rests. Your witness.

Defence:              So had you and the defendant discussed what would be happening on this second date?

SSD:                   Well…uh…no…I mean…I assumed…

Defence:              (interrupting) Ha! You assumed!

Crown:                Objection! Badgering the witness you Honour!

Judge:                  The defence will please let the witness answer the question. Go ahead SSD…you may

SSD:                    so yeah…uh…I just assumed that he was aware that effort was required. I mean…I
figured after how amazing our first date had been…the second date would at least
attempt to compare…

Defence:              and the date did take place in his “home” and you after all said you wear sweatpants in
your “home” did you not?

SSD:                    Yes…but not when getting frisky is a possibility…

Defence:              And did you get frisky?

Crown:                 Objection!

Judge:                  Overruled…please tell us about the frisky activities (judge rests chin on elbows and
upturned palms and leans towards witness, very pervy-like)…yes do tell us all the

SSD:                     (blushing) yada yada yada making out yada yada yada shirts off yada yada yada
uncircumcised yada yada never seen one before yada yada not ready to have sex
yet yada

Defence:                 So…besides the attire…did he do anything else that “turned you off” or would
prevent future copulations?

SSD:                     Well (looks up quizzically and scrunches face)….he did sort of talk about meat during a

Gallery:                  (numerous voices) He did what? (Laughter) Can you imagine? (Laughter) What kind of
meat? (Laughter)

Judge:                    QUIET! Or I’ll have you all in contempt! Witness will continue and please…specify the
meat in question…

SSD:                      Well it was sort of after he found out he wasn’t going to get laid that night…but
before he figured out he could get a bit further than he already had…and we were
just talking and he brought up the fact that he had had sushi for dinner with a guy
from work…and then he was talking about eating healthier blah blah…and then he
started talking about how he’s started eating Bison…

Defence:                 (interrupts with laughter) Bison? Seriously?

SSD:                       yes! (Annoyed) Bison!

Defence:                 and yet…you still let him get further with you?

SSD:                       well…yeah…I mean…we kind of laughed at the topic and then got it on again…

Defence:                 The defence rests.

Judge:                     The witness may be excused.

Dun! Dun!
Trial Part 36
Closing Arguments
February 20, 2010

Defence:               The Crown has not been able to prove its burden for the crimes charged. At best, they
may argue that my client gave future dates a dirty look but certainly not “aggravated
assault”. In addition, my client lacks the intelligence to formulate the “intent to cause
confusion” about whether or not he likes the witness.

Crown:                  The Defence has spun tales about the appropriateness of casual attire and tried to
distract you with notions of “the clothes do not make the man”. They have claimed
that abuse using the weapons of bad pants and meat talk are not vigorous enough to
justify an “aggravated assault” charge but they forget this comes after the weeks of
pummelling, while my client waited to hear about the defendant’s health and a second
date. Finally the defence asserts that the accused lacks the intelligence to intentionally
cause confusion, which in itself proves his guilt in “grand stupidity”. They cannot have
it both ways. The jury must convict this man before he causes further harm to
innocent daters everywhere. It is your duty!!

Dun! Dun!
Trial Part 45
February 20, 2010

Judge:                        And does the jury have a verdict?

Presiding Juror:         We do your Honour.

Judge:                         And what say you

Presiding Juror:        On the charge of “aggravated assault on future dates” we find the defendant guilty.
We would also like to make the recommendation to the Court, that the charges be
ammended to include “intent to cause confusion” and “grand stupidity”.

Judge:                         That is highly unusual…hmm

Presiding Juror:        We know, Your Honour, but we felt that it was justified to speak out on behalf of
the victim.

Judge:                        Very well…the Crown is advised to consider the jury’s statements for future
charges.  And how say you on the charge of “conspiracy to disrupt relationship
formations” in cahouts with TELUS Mobility.  On the issue of damages, we
award the claimant, SSD, on behalf TELUS Mobility, a total of $10,000 for
time wasted and anxiety and uncertainty suffered.

Judge:                        Deputies, please remove the defendant. The Court would like to thank the jury for
its time.  Court is adjourned.

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

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*

“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*