A New “Something”: Skinny Jeans

Dating Nosedive

 

The older I get, the less birthdays actually seem to matter.  That’s why, this year, when the opportunity to go on a first date fell squarely on my birthday, I didn’t really see it as a big deal.  It just seemed like another day in an already busy calendar, and after all, the time was finally right.  I had managed to find my way through a hard year of getting my bearings in grad school (read: I didn’t go on a single first date since France and The Comic), I had finally transferred over to the creative stream and excepting an academic conference in October, I was basically done with academia and ready to focus on the Creative Writing side of my degree (read: I was happy, I was less busy, life was ripe for the picking)

*cue raucous applause and several minutes of elated sighing*

Needless to say, your girl was ready to have some fun.  So when Skinny Jeans asked me out, I accepted.  Plus, I was planning to have my party the next night anyway so it wasn’t like I was some lonely singleton just trying not to spend my day of birth alone, I had a busy schedule of fun (and work) things, and Thursday night was just when I could fit him in.

He had messaged me on POF, nothing too thrilling, but he seemed normal.  He was pretty good looking: 5’10, black, English Speaking (a thing I’ve really come to find necessary with my ever failing ability to speak French), and he seemed cool enough.  We added each other on Facebook and everything was a go.  He lives in a sort-of-suburb of montreal and since he’s from here we figured it would be easiest if he came to my pace (don’t freak out, not my apartment, just picked me up downstairs, it’s a very busy place, no chance of being murdered etc.).

Thursday rolled around, he texted that he was here, and I went down to meet him.  I was already a ball of nerves for two reasons:

  1. I hadn’t gone on a date in over a year
  2. I hate first dates.  Well, not the whole date.  Once I meet the guy and he’s normal and we get along things are awesome, great, wonderful.  But the few hours before we meet, I’m near vomitting at all times.  I just hate it.  I don’t even totally know what I’m afraid of, but needless to say, I’m not calm and relaxed.

We greeted with a hug, and though I wasn’t super jazzed about his fitted pants, I was pleased.  He, however, may not have been.  He didn’t smile a whole lot in the beginning, though I’ve also met guys who didn’t smile a lot at first and then we’re all over it later so who knows, I’m probably too sensitive about the smiling.  But then again, this is my blog, and I’m trying to make dating better for everyone, so really what I’m saying is Boys, more smiling, smile right from the beginning, big warm welcoming smiles.  I get that you’re nervous but she is too and nothing quite says, I’m so pleased because you look exactly like you’re dating profile photos like a sunshine smile.  

We walked and talked for a few blocks until we came to a coffee shop.  We went inside, and that’s when things got awkward.  Well, for me.  He wanted to get something to eat and there was a really long counter so I kind of ended up ordering my own coffee and then paying for it.  And what I mean by awkward is really that internally I began a conversation whereby I attempted to defend the action of not paying but honestly…honestly…honestly?  We all know I’m not a fan.  But even more than not paying as a literal thing bothers me, it’s also what it says about him as a person, and most important of all, I think it says a lot about what he thinks of me (which if we’re being real here is that he doesn’t think spending time with me is worth $4.00).

But, not one to jump to conclusions (er…uh…at least not mid-date), I made the best of things and sat down for a chat.  We ended up talking for 2.5 hours, until the coffee shop was closing down.  I admit, I was a tad confused, this chatty behavior seeming very contradictory to the paying of coffee, and thus started to think maybe he had his own reasons for not paying and that maybe I should let it go.

We had been talking about a local pool place and suggested that maybe we could move on to there, at first he said yes but then followed it up quickly with oh, I can’t, I have to go set up for a video shoot tomorrow.  It made sense, after all, when we’d originally booked the date he’d asked for earlier rather than later.  But still.  But still.  I’m not a fan of being double booked on.  I get that there was a huge possibility that I could’ve been a dud, but still.

Nonetheless, he walked me home from the coffeeshop and then proceeded to chat with me for another 45 minutes outside of my apartment building.

Was he waiting for an invite up?

Was he just having a good time?

At some point I could tell what was happening.  I could feel it in the air.  I could see it in the way he was standing.  He was working out to a goodnight kiss and I guess all that chatter was a good way to fill the time.  Eventually he worked up to it and planted a big kiss on me.  It was nice.  I probably pulled away too soon but there were so many people around (it being a high traffic area) and I’m not a fan of PDA with new boys, with a boyfriend sure, but first kisses should happen in dark sexy places, not orange lit doorways with people coming and going.

Eventually we said goodbye.  And *spoiled alert* I won’t make you wait on this one for a second blog post, because it really was goodbye.  We texted back and forth a few times, but after a few messages it became clear he wasn’t interested.  He was a confident, aggressive fella and not asking for a second date was indication enough, if not the fact that his responses to texts were often only a few phrases.

Do I know what happened?  Nope.  Maybe he didn’t like how I looked or thought I was dull.

But why did he kiss me?  Honestly, no idea.  I don’t really understand sexual activity with someone you’re not at least interested in seeing again (not to be confused with drunk goggles etc. because we were both stone cold sober).  And it seems unlikely that the kissing wasn’t good or something because he went out of his way to mention that I was a good kisser.

Did something happen between the date and now?  Again, no idea.  Like I’ve said before, as much as I absolutely fucking hate not having any answers to dating questions, sometimes they just never come.  And you just have to be okay with that.  So I am.  This is me, being okay with it.  But then again, it might have something to do with the fact that a week later, I already had another first date booked 😉

**********

One final note about Skinny Jeans before I move on, because we all know I LOVE a teachable moment.  I know that guys are often worried about being an asshole when it comes to rejection and so I feel the need to point out how Skinny Jeans was, in fact, an asshole, and how he could’ve easily avoided it with little to no effort.

The key to rejecting a girl, besides all the obvious advice I’ve given before is clarity.  Don’t push and pull.  Don’t give and take.  Just reject.  Pick one line of attack and follow through.  With Skinny Jeans, the texting was…sporadic.  He responded on and off.  And when he responded, it was enthusiastic and then it wasn’t.  But not in a tapered off way, the attention was misleading.  What he should’ve done, assuming he wasn’t comfortable with just saying hey look, thanks for meeting me and stuff but I’m not interested so all the best, was to ignore all messages.  Just stop responding.  Girls aren’t idiots, we get the message.  When it becomes clear is when he responds to some messages and then nada.  And then texts, so I respond, and then there’s texting and then nada.  And the fact that hadn’t unfriended me on facebook was weird too.  Now obviously I got the message, after all, like I said, I’m not an idiot, but he could’ve saved me several days of excitement, and then several more of confusion, followed by the eventual disappointment, if he’d just be more clear (or more silent).

And before you all get up in arms in his defense, let me say this…we are all assholes sometimes.  Doing something assholey doesn’t make you a monster, but that doesn’t mean we should pretend you aren’t a jerk for doing something that causes another person distress (AND COULD BE AVOIDED).  Learning is good.  Self-awareness is good.  So ya know, go out there and date up a storm, but try and be considerate of the time and feelings of others along the way.  That’s a cool thing to do too.

Dating Mistakes: And THAT’S Why You’re a Dick

Head Desk

 

[dropcap]S[/dropcap]o Kevin Bacon and I had had 3 dates.  He thought I was into him.  And when I asked him about where we stood…his response was silence.  Not one to accept silence (hey!…I’m a dating blogger…who is no longer interested…obvs I’m going to pry the truth out of you…though one day I hope it would just happen organically).  And so I DMed him on Twitter Should I be taking your silence to mean that not only are you not interested in dating but you’re not interested in friendship either?  His response?  I didn’t have anything to say.  Sorry.  Busy last night and working now.  But pressing the issue, I think you’re not what I’m looking for dating-wise.  I hope we can still be friends.

Now here’s the thing of the thing.  On our first date, Kevin Bacon had asked me why I blogged.  I told him that in the beginning I had started simply because I was tired of telling the same story over and over to my different girlfriends since none of them were really friends with each other.  But I said as it progressed [the blog] became more about sharing my experiences, including what I was learning in the hopes that it might help others.  But not in the misery-loves-company-commiseration-type way but in the learn-about-the-missteps-you-me-they-we’ve-all-been-taking-and-work-to-correct-them-type way.  

So with that being said.  Let’s take a look at Kevin Bacon’s response and examine it for what it’s worth (the exact value of learning lessons and sharing perspectives on dating).

 

I didn’t have anything to say. Sorry. Busy last night and working now.  

 

So this.  This right here.  Makes him a Dick.  Claiming you don’t have anything to say when someone asks you a direct question is a cop out.  Now that’s every person’s right to cop out on whatever the fuck they want…because let’s face it…people can do whatever the fuck they want whenever they want.  But.  And this is the key point here.  That rationale doesn’t excuse you from being categorized as a Dick.  Additionally, people who apologize and don’t mean it.  Ugh.  Weaker than weak.  Words are bond, son.  And throwing words you don’t mean into the world gives an air of in-authenticity and well…gross.  Finally, being busy and working is an excuse when someone wants a researched and typed 10 page report on the mating habits of Pandas not when the answer to the question is…I’m not interested in you.

Now I know some of you may be thinking wow, she’s being really harsh and picky with this guy but how are we all supposed to learn if I don’t dissect it.  I’m not saying Kevin Bacon is a horrible person and should cease to experience happiness…on the contrary…I wish him all the best.  We could substitute any name into this situation and my arguments would be the same.  I simply want to illustrate what about this response was so icky and aggravating in the hopes that something can be learned.

 

But pressing the issue, I think you’re not what I’m looking for dating-wise.  

 

This is perfect.  It’s a little bit weirdly-worded ‘dating-wise’ and all but nonetheless it’s clear and makes it’s point.  He wasn’t interested in further dating.  Simple.  Precise.  And closure inducing.  Boys, take note.  Good job, KevinBacon.

 

I hope we can still be friends.  

 

Aww fuck.  He was so close, that Kevin Bacon.  Sure he fucked it up royally in the beginning with the Dickishness and the in-authenticity but then he brought it back, salvaged it all really, with the cut-and-dry approach to the truth.  And then there’s this.  I hope we can still be friends.  See the thing of the thing is, this would be fine if he meant it.  But he didn’t.

If Kevin Bacon had wanted to be friends he would’ve been more careful with my time.  There wouldn’t have been questions about my calendar of future dating, there wouldn’t have been the week of waiting to find out he wasn’t interested in me, and most importantly there would have been this douchey response that was like pulling teeth just to get.  If a guy wants to remain friends, like actually remain friends, he respects your time, he’s empathetic of your feelings, he…well…ya know…acts like a friend.

And while it’s perfectly fine not to remain friends with someone you dated, it’s not so perfectly fine to be misleading about it.  Because while I’ll admit, I was well aware Kevin Bacon didn’t want to be friends (and the feeling was pretty obviously mutual) there have been other boys….on TV and in movies…in my life…in the lives of my friends…who have acted this exact same in-authentic way.  And if your word is all you really ever have.  What does it say about a person who throws words like they’re feathers when they know damn well they’re stones?  It says you’re a fucking Dick.

So back to the response.  Now I personally would’ve just said nothing.  In future posts I’ll be talking more about why it’s okay to just throw up the deuces and walk off the stage.  But for now I’m going to answer this question for those of you that can’t stand to live with an awkward moment.  For those of you who have to have the last word.  For those of you who can’t end a sentence without a pleasantry.

While Kevin Bacon said I hope we can still be friends what he should’ve said was I hope we can still be friendly.  And yes.  A couple of letters really does make that huge of a difference.  Because while one of these sentences makes a badly formed counterfeit of a good person…the other is clear and honest and allows for closure.  Easy Peasy Light and Breezy.

Rip the Bandaid, Bitch! (Part Two)

Head Desk

So like I was saying.  I had hoped he would call.  After whatever blah blah excuse he had given me.  But he didn’t.  At least.  Not that night.  The next morning however.  I was woken up by a text.  Well more exactly I was woken up by Alice Cooper blaring
 ♫ Poison, You’re poison running through my veins, You’re poison, I don’t wanna break these chains ♫ 
And in case you’re not a long time reader.  This is where I have to mention again.  I have the cell phone from hell.  I live in the Bermuda fucking triangle.  This is NOT an exaggeration.  I have THE worst luck with cell phones and reliable service.  So it is not uncommon to miss text messages.  To get them long after they were sent.  To get them in indecipherable pieces.  Just Sayin’.

This morning was unlikely to be any different.  When there it was.  Showing up.  Coming through.  The piece of a puzzle of messages.  Only.  Something like the middle.  That’s it.  Fuck.

Easy to say, especially when you 
care for someone.  Then as I 
delayed it, it became harder and 
harder to call.  I’m spending.

What.  The.  Fuck.  This is obviously only a piece of the message.  So I text back saying as much.  Either to resend or call.  He calls.  FUCK.  I answer.  It’s a bit awkward.  Plus it’s also a bit hazy.  It’s fucking like 8:20am and I’m a student.  Plus just in general not a morning person.

The gist of what he says is this.

He thinks I’m awesome.
There’s just something missing.
Like chemistry I ask?
But he can’t describe it
He doesn’t know what he wants
blah blah blah
He wants to be friends.
I should give him a call….

and then I interrupt him.  Ahh.  I’m going to leave that in your court buddy.  After all you’re the one who just said he didn’t like me enough lol.  No way am I going to spend more being concerned about whether or not I should call someone.  Though I say this in a somewhat less bitchy fashion.  We chatter on a bit more.  NYE is mentioned.  I say MegaLove is coming up to spend it with me.  I offer no further details.  We end the call.  I send a quick text thanking him for letting me know.  Not because I felt he deserved it.  But if I’m going to be a big proponent of people being honest with each other and ripping the fucking bandaid off, I can’t turn around and be all bitter.  I have to keep it going.  Word of mouth advertising.

Rip the bandaid, bitch! 

By the way.  Almost as soon as the call was over.  Suddenly my phone blows up with text messages.  Out of order no less.  But I’m not retarded.  I know how to piece a puzzle together.  And here is.  The bandaid ripping (sort of) puzzle.

Sorry for being so distant.  I’m just not feeling it and don’t want waste your time, plus go any further physically.  I should have called but it’s not that easy to say, especially when you care for someone.  Then as I delayed it, it became harder and harder to call.  I’m spending the day with DaughtersName, and leaving town later on today.  Take care!


Ouch.  For reference I find the care about someone bit to be fucked up retarded like and the go any further physically to mean that he wasn’t attracted to me anymore.  So there ya go.  Fuck Me.  Or not I guess.  Exit stage left.

 

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

Rip the Bandaid, Bitch! (Part One)

Dating Mistakes

Maybe I’ve dissected it a thousand times.  Maybe I barely paid attention when it was happening.  Maybe just too much time has passed.  Maybe the continuous over-analyzation of the details was like metaphorically pulling at the thread of my memory sweater.  I pulled too hard.  I pulled too fast.  And it all fucking fell apart.  My memory that is.  Because I swear to you people.  If it wasn’t for text messaging as some sort of tangible record of the events.  I might not be able to tell this story.  Poof!  Like it never even happened.  But lucky (or not so lucky) for us all, I do indeed have the tangible words that bring this tale to a……well just let me tell you.

So The Nick Name and I had had our 2nd Date.  I’d been the dirty slut sexy vixen you all know and love me as.  And things were great.  Except.  Well.  Ya know how some chicks dissect every fucking detail?  See I only do that when things are negative.  When things have a positive result.  I skip along.  Tra la la la.  Like everything is draped in cotton candy and sugar coated in icing.  Tra la la la.  Skip.  Skip.  Hop.  Only the thing is.  When I retell these stories to you.  Some of the icing sugar has shaken off.  And I feel a bit retarded if I don’t point out the things I know should have been obvious.  Like somehow I need to prove to you guys I’m not totally retarded.  Just naively hopeful.

So the thing is.  Even though after we were finished messing around so to speak.  There was what I would call cuddling.  Not spooning.  Because it was more like face to face.  Well actually more like I was on my stomach and he was beside me on his side.  And we were just kind of curled up kiss kiss wrapped around each other kiss kiss just lying there.  Eyes closed.  Honestly trying not to fall asleep.  And as super pathetic as this is going to sound.  I kind of wanted to keep laying there.  But I could feel it.  Feel something.  Feel him.  Dude wanted to go to sleep.  Now don’t get me wrong he didn’t do anything douchey or awful.  But I could just tell.  And so I got up to go.  He got up with me.  Talked about our date for the coming Wednesday still being on.  And walked me to the door.

And there.  Right in that moment.  I knew.  Not good.  Not good at all.  Because the thing of the thing is.  He didn’t walk me to my car.  And bee tee dub.  It was late.  It was dark.  It was fucking New Westminster.  A more residential than sketchy area but please.  And the thing that allowed me at the time to discount this.  Ignore it.  Move along.  Was the fact that up until this dating foray that is my 2010 experience, I wouldn’t have expected a boy to walk me to my car.  Sure on the first date.  But after that.  Not really.  The door and seal it with a kiss?? obviously.  But put your shoes on come out to my car?  Not really.  But the thing is.  I’m not 21 anymore.  And I’m certainly not dating 21 year olds.  These boys are damn near 40 and they know what’s up.  They know what being a gentleman means.  And not feeling desireous/compelled to walk me to my car?  a bad sign.  That I ignored.

Sidebar.  The logic behind WHY I ignored all this will come in a wholly separate post (yes it’s that lengthy and complex lol) so just bee tee dub.

But it’s whatevs.  I had fun.  I’m ignoring the one bad sign in favor of all the good ones.  Carrying on.  Boxing day rolls in.  There is texting.  I’m italics.

4:00pm

Hey 🙂 How’s your day going?
Humming along!  And yours?
Great! lots of catching up with friends and then just getting ready for Seattle/McChord AFB tomorrow.

Radio Silence.


6:45pm
You around?
7:29pm
I’m at my buddies for dinner and the game.  Call you later!
Is it just me or are those exclamations getting irritating.  Doesn’t he know that there is a big difference between call you later.  call you later?  and call you later!  Stop it.  Girl over-analyzing.  Fuck me.  Stop.

Sounds good.


10:18pm
Hey cutie just a heads up I’m going to bed pretty soon, getting up at 6am tomorrow 🙂
In my defense.  My cell phone doesn’t work while I’m in the states…which is where I was planning to be for about 24 hours.  And he didn’t know that.  So while I realize this seems overzealous texting.  I had wanted to talk to him before I went so I could tell him.  Plus in all honesty.  If he liked me it wouldn’t seem so overzealous.

Radio Silence.


Dec. 27th.  I wake up with bells on and head down to Seattle.  Which I’ll tell you all about.  New friends.  MegaLove.  Etcetera.  But in another post.  This  post is all about TheNickName.  So let’s get back to it.  I arrive home from Seattle in the wee morning hours of the 28th.  And when I turn my phone back on.  Obviously expecting it to be blown up with…Hey and then hello? and then further you arounds? and perhaps even are you ignoring me?s.  Only it doesn’t.  Silence.  Okay well not total silence.  Texts from friends etc.  But from TheNickName.  Silence.  I mean.  What.  The.  Fuck.  I go to sleep.


Later in the day…I get a text from him (me in italics again).  Fucking weak ass shit.

How is or was Seattle?  I have to bail on tomorrow, I’m going out of town tomorrow after work for the weekend! Sorry!
Fucking exclamation marks!!!!!!!! Sorry!???? It’s like he’s yelling or something.  Too many exclamation marks especially when they don’t belong is like SOMEONE TYPING IN ALL CAPS!!!! WHO ARE YOU YELLING AT?!?!?!

Okay…do you have time to talk?



Pathetic I know.  But in my defense.  This was sort of me trying to decipher if he really was bailing for last minute out town pl….fuck…even as I type it…it sounds too stupid.  Fuck it was just pathetic. We all slip.  Lots.  Don’t judge.  People in glass houses and all that.

I’m at a buddies, watching the Canada game.  I will try to call you after its over!
No worries.


At some point it gets late.  I’m going to bed.  Fuck this noise.  All of me understands he’s not swooning over me.  Most of me understands he’s not dying to spend time with me.  Some of me understands that he probably doesn’t even like me enough to continue seeing each other (this behavior being evidence).  But none of me can grasp how someone I took it slow…but not too slow…with…and have cute conversations with…can go from…good to go and super cute and totally into me….to…total blow off.  Now to be clear.  I understand it happens.  I get it in theory that sometimes people just don’t like either people.  But at this exact moment in my defense (I’ve had to say that a lot this post….damn…exclamation point!)…I couldn’t quite make the logic fit…the illogicality of people and emotions and behaviors and whatever the fuck was going on with this dude.  So I made one last pathetic attempt.  Because the truth is.  Me and him.  We were better on the phone.  Just Sayin’
Really hope you get a chance to call before you leave town cause I’m feeling pretty weird about you cancelling again and we seem to be better on the phone.


To Be Continued….Here:  Rip the Bandaid, Bitch! (Part Two)

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