The Bird Seed Theory, or Why He Keeps Contacting You

Bird Seed Theory

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.

Every so often I come to a realization about dating.  An answer to a dating question that feels so long fought for and so hard-battle-done-by that it’s like solving the Riddle of the Sphinx.  Like figuring out what the hell happened to Amelia Earhart.  Like I just destroyed the ring in the fires of Mount Doom.  Like I just solved world hunger.  Like I just figured out where in the world is fucking Carmen San Diego, coherently explained the Matrix, and made cold fusion easily accessible and replicable to the general public.  It’s like I know, like seriously fucking know, exactly how many licks it takes to get to the centre of a Tootsie-Pop.

And it’s finally happened.  I know a thing, about dating, like fucking know it, and thus I give to you:


The Bird Seed Theory (or, why he keeps contacting you).


Here’s the thing: dating is all about effort.  And the fundamental difference in how men and women view effort is the leading cause of dating frustration.  Okay so I kind of made that bit up…the “leading cause” bit…but bear with me and you might start to agree.  See, if you were to ask most women what is the worst part about dating?  I would hedge my bets that they would say “it’s the uncertainty”.  Sure, rejection hurts and uncomfortable moments suck and after awhile everybody gets frustrated and wants to call it a day, but the worst THE WORST part about dating is the uncertainty.  the waiting.  the fade.  and then the come back charlieness of it all.

I don’t really know how it came to me (that’s a lie, I know exactly how it came to me…so let me just tell you).  Driving home from UBC, the day I moved out of residence back at the end of April 2010, I was talking to my brother (who had so graciously helped me move), about The Nick Name and how I just couldn’t figure out what his fucking deal was and why he kept in contact with me when he obviously didn’t like me so much that he like had to fucking have me.  And just like that, it all came together for me. GENIUS!!!  Sort of like He’s Just Not That Into You…Version 2.0…The Bird Seed Theory.

You see, women are very selective about the effort they put into men and dating.  For those who love a good analogy like I do –> We throw thick chunks of bread at select ducks.  Only the ones we really like.  The ones we see a potential with.  The ones who make us swoon.    Or that can dick us down just right (don’t get it wrong…it’s not always about mush and heart)…but the point is we only throw bread when its worth our while.  Effort is precious and we don’t like to waste.

Guys throw bird seed  *makes bird seed throwing gesture*.  Guys throw bird seed constantly…all the time…every moment…of every day…every heart beat…throwing fucking bird seed…not caring who it lands on.  Now this isn’t to say that boys will date or bang all the ducks they throw seed at.  That’s not the point.  The point is to have the option. Boys are always on the prowl, always having things in the mix.  It’s like it’s in their DNA or something.

And I know what you’re thinking…doesn’t that negate the theory of effort?  And the answer is NO.  Quite the opposite.  Because in fact, men don’t see throwing the seed as effort.  Because it’s all in the name of sex (or whatever motivates them, ego, adrenaline, etc.).  And while we (women) are only keeping the options open with those boys we want right now, boys are inherently thinking…more…possibility…later.

So here’s your real-world-tangible-practical-jesus-I-wish-we’d-known-this-earlier-so-much-wasted-time-lesson.

The next time Come Back Charlie sends text message…a FB wall post…a special Tweet…a phonecall…whatever….that leaves you thinking wow.  He misses me.  He’s thinking about me.  He made a mistake in how he treated me before.  He didn’t mean it when he pulled the fade on me.  He didn’t mean it those other 2 times he bailed on plans.  He thinks I’m special really fucking special.

He Doesn’t.

but but but.  No!  He really really fucking doesn’t.

Sure it’s quite possible he cares about you in the same sense that I generally hope people in the world are happy and leading joyful lives and all that.  But to be totally honest, he doesn’t give a shit about you.  Nothing has changed.  I promise.  He is NOT the exception.  You are NOT the exception.  Maybe he enjoys your conversation, maybe he thinks you’re hot and would be cool with a bang (pending that it fit his schedule, pending that some other chick he has been throwing bird seed at and that he wanted more wasn’t available) but honestly, it doesn’t matter.  Whatever his circumstances or reasons are…this dude is not interested in you enough for you to give him the time of day.  Even a proper booty call knows how to be blunt, honest and respect your time.  A dude throwing bird seed has no concern for your time.  Because while throwing bread at him is exacting effort on your part…you’re just another duck on his row to throw some seed up.  *seed throwing gestures*

And to make sure you all listen.  And really know that this isn’t just something I’m saying but can’t back up with actual facts.  I give you both Garbage Man and The Nick Name.  Both these dudes were done with me by the 2nd date (possibly even before).  And after that 2nd date…they kept in contact.  For months.  Like seriously fucking months.  The Nick Name actually kept in contact for years!! though I never saw him again after that 2nd date.  And while in my mind I cannot fathom exerting that much effort to stay in contact with someone you had no real interest in hanging out with again…for them I imagine I was just one in a ton of other chicks.  Or one in a ton of other hobbies.  Or one in a ton of whatever-the-fuck-they-do-with-their-time.  But while I assumed the continued contact was a reflection on the good so-so satisfactory meh times we had spent together and the connection we had.  I was wrong.  So so fucking wrong.  They were just throwing bird seed.  And I was just a duck running around with my head cut off.  Does that analogy work?  I think so.  You get the idea anyway.

So the next time a dude who isn’t treating you like you think he should.  Or a dude that ditched you comes back with a less than grand gesture.  Or really you just have an inkling that you’re doing all the work.  STOP THROWING BREAD at his bird seed throwing ass and find yourself another pond to go loiter at.  Because this one is not good for you.

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

Learning to Live with Uncertainty in Dating

Uncertainty in Dating


could go without underwear.

I don’t like to, but I could.

The same goes for a bra, but then I take no responsiblity if while walking down the street you get knocked through the glass window of a store because my over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder was taking a day off and the goons were out on a stroll.  My nips, however, never apologize, for anything.

I could get by without pajamas, and the super rich moisturizer I like to put on my feet in the winter.

I could survive without meat, and milk, and cheese (though the cheese would be the toughest).

I could eat fries without ketchup, I could stiff upper lip having to sit in the middle seat on an airplane.  I can carry on without air conditioning and cable and a landline, even a cell phone.

I could manage with candles instead of electricity, assuming I could get my hands on a type writer.

I could endure 2 weeks in the woods.

I can weather the storm.  I can take the beating and keep on trucking.  But what I struggle with most, what tears at my soul, itches my very being, knaws at my sanity…is a lack of answers. (which probably helps to explain my obsession with science regardless of my career centred in words)

This is particularly problematic given that dating is the soul-sucking-never-ending-black-abyss of never-knowing-anything-with-certainy.  When it comes to dating, you have to accept you might never know.  Dating is swaddled in uncertainty and you’re likely to be left in the cold without a blanket.  And you just have to accept that.

I say you but what I really mean is me.  Because dammit I have to learn.

But the answers?!?  All the answers.  I want them.  Need them.  I have to find a way to live without them even though every cell in my body is screaming for the truth, a reason, some logic, a glimpse into someone else’s reality…all I really want is an answer, all the answers, forever answers, most answers, because answers, give me the fucking answers!!!

But the truth is, they’re not coming.

And before anyone says something stupid like but the answer IS the lack of answers…go fuck yourself.  A lack of answer is not actually an answer.  (and it’s that kind of bullshit logic that is at the centre of almost everything that is wrong with our world, so knock it the fuck off and be smarter).  Sure, we might be able to draw a conclusion, hint a suggestion, hypothesize and infer but these are not concrete.  When I say answers I mean an ACTUAL FUCKING ANSWER.

Nonetheless, there are no answers coming for Come Back Charlie.

Why didn’t he call?  Maybe I was a lousy lay.

Why didn’t he text?  Maybe he just thought I was tedious or not pretty enough, maybe he didn’t like the sound of my laugh, or my smile.

Why didn’t he seem to want to hang out anymore?  Maybe his laughter was bullshit, the sweetness all fake and he was just a dude looking for a quick bang (but not interested in a second).

What had changed?  Maybe he didn’t like that I wasn’t magically in love with him or maybe he got busy with work and school.

Why didn’t he like me?  Maybe he had a girlfriend or maybe another girl came along that he simply liked better.  Or maybe even just a TV show.  Truth is, I’ll never know.

Regardless of the fact that he was the one all excited to hang out again after our second date, actually asking so when do I get to see you again?, the lines of communication fell flat.  I texted once or twice.  He texted once or twice.  He never asked me to hang out again.  He never made plans.  I asked once and when nothing came of it, didn’t ask again.  And that was that.  Come Back Charlie would be no more.

Am I sad?  Not really.

Am I hurt?  Maybe a little but still, in all honesty, not really.

Then what is this feeling, this irritation, why do I even give a shit?  Well, I’ll tell you.  Because there go the fantasties of hot (given that he could improve) stress free sex with a goddamn giant for the last few weeks before I leave for Montreal.  Because there goes the built in booty call to come home to at Christmas.  Because dammit, I don’t like when things don’t go my way.  I’m a fucking child like that.  Disappointment is a bitch.  But hey, that’s dating.  Right?

Feel the sting, absorb the punch, stand up tall, and keep walking.  No More Come Back Charlie.  Deuces.


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

When Your Summer Fling Flings You Aside Are You Flung?

When Your Summer Fling Flings You Aside, Are You Flung?


[dropcap]So[/dropcap] let’s see…Friday night I went out with a 23 year old…and made out in the rain in a movie theatre parking lot.  (following the it was great to meet you text message was a barrage of amenable text messages about how he had been shy and would certainly please my every whim and desire the next time.  Apparently he too wanted to go down on me (not that I’ve ever really had anyone not want to go down on me…but verbalizing it…rather than say…telling me they wanted to fuck me…was becoming a trend…the 23 year old…Come Back Charlie…*spoiler alert* and some others not yet discussed.)  I digress.  The text messages went on for quite awhile.  Perhaps I didn’t play along enough.  Perhaps it was because I pointed out that with both of us currently staying with our folks, there was hardly a place for said behavior to occur.  Still, it seemed to end well.

And yet, like The PhD. before him, after a series of dirty text messages, I never heard from him again.  Okay that’s a lie, I heard once, one text message but it was about school and being busy and who the fuck cares.  The truth was, I was probably using the whole nowhere to kick it as an excuse because as much as it seemed interesting to date a 23 year old…I wasn’t really feeling him.  Deuces.

Monday I went out with Come Back Charlie.  He sent the usual text so great to meet you and can’t wait to see you again. We made plans.  Or.  Well.  I thought we made plans.  He asked if I was free Wednesday, I wasn’t.  I asked if he was free Thursday, he wasn’t.  Well, I said, I’m busy Saturday and Sunday so it’s either Friday or next Monday or Tuesday?  Friday could work, he said.  But then he added, that he’d have to check and see if he was working early Saturday morning or not.  To be honest, it felt like a brush off.  But then again I tend to overact and get my spikes up for anyone who displays anything other than total admiration for me if I think I’m being jilted.  But I was trying to be breezy, no?  So I said sure, sounds great and that was that.

Looking back now, it’s clear that we were only hanging out if he let me know, which he did not.  But at the time, I foolishly thought we had plans, assuming that he didn’t tell me he had to work.  See.  I make dating mistakes too.  All the time in fact.  Just in case you were under the misguided presumption that I always know what the fuck I’m doing.  Anyway, so Friday rolled around and somewhere around 2pm I sent a text message saying so, are we on for tonight?

We were in fact, not on for tonight.  He had to blah blah blah tonight and wouldn’t blah blah blah till tomorrow blah blah blah.  And so that was that.  I got the brush off.  Ain’t that a bitch.  Looks like this whole Vancouver summer fling before I move to Montreal thing really just wasn’t going to happen.  So I mean, fuck.  But whatever.  I guess.

My response to his text message?  Silence.  Because what is there reallly to say.

It takes all my strength to say nothing.  To text nothing.  Because I know that there is no point.  Because I know these feelings are irrational.  Because nobody likes bitter betty.  But here, in this blog, where I share some of my most vulnerable moments, I can tell you this:  I am a ball of rage.

I want to text you know you just blew it right?  because there is a part of me that actually thinks that it is not simply a case of him not liking me enough but that he might really be that stupid.  But I think we all know, it’s not an either or situation.  He doesn’t like me, stupid or not.  Bird Seed.  Full Stop.  Because otherwise he would’ve told me the moment he knew…rather than waiting for me to text and ask if we were still on, only to then inform me that we’re not.

I want to text thanks for wasting my time or good thing I wasn’t waiting around to hear from you or fuck you fuck you fuck you but really fuck me fuck me fuck me I’m so stupid I fucking hate you!!!

I want to send him a link to the blog.  I want him to read this post.  I want to know how can someone seem so totally into me (even if we are expiration dating, a time stamped affair), and then just fuck it all up.

I want I want I want.  Doesn’t he know that the rest of the summer was laid out for him?  We could’ve watched movies and created our own x-rated scenes.  We could’ve laughed.  We could’ve done all the fun things in dating without worrying about where is this going? and what are we doing?  We could’ve had the drive in movie theatre make out, thrown our empty popcorn tubs and sodas on the ground (metaphorically of course, you know mamma don’t litter) and driven off into the night.

It feels like handing someone an all-out-paid-for dream vacation and them just shrugging their shoulders and saying something ridiculous like meh…I think my passport is expired.  Like that’s an acceptable reason to turn down such a treasure.

I want to rage.  I want to smash things.  I want to write long, well thought out, articles that somehow change the world into being the place I want it to be.  A place where people respect the time of others.  A place where people say what the fuck they’re thinking.  A place where people don’t treat others like shit.  I want to be right and maybe I just don’t give a fuck about being happy!!!

Except that I do.  Because I’ve adopted a new policy in life.  Better to be happy than to be right.

I actually used to think the total opposite.  Better to be right (because in being right, you could find happiness).  But given that you can’t control others, that often isn’t the case.  And so I changed my mind.  Better to be happy than to be right.  Better to keep your mouth shut about some things.  Better not to bother trying to teach someone something that you think is right which, if we’re being honest, they probably either disagree with or even more likely don’t give a shit about.

Plus aside from the fact that he could’ve saved me the time and energy wasted in being excited/stressed about hanging out, was there really anything to teach Come Back Charlie besides how to be a fucking decent human being, no, of course not.  The truth was, he just simply didn’t like me.  Adorable conversation, hot and heavy making out, even cute realizations that our father’s have the same careers…all of that aside…the dude didn’t want to see me again.  Case closed.  And I just fucking accept it.  So I did.


Well…until I had a conversation with two close friends.  More on that next time *awkward winky face* *falls over* *jumps up* *bats eyelashes to try to make up for stumble instead looks like a girl having a seizure* *gives up and walks away*


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

Wax On Wax Off, Date’s On Date’s Off

Dating Mistakes

Dates On.

Sunday was the first date with The Nick Name.  Monday we text.  Chatter.  What have you.  I was still technically in school and working on two papers.  Children’s Lit and Shakespeare.  I hate Shakespeare at this point.  But that’s another matter entirely.  Tuesday we text.  Chatter.  He’s not feeling great.  Possibly getting sick.  I’m exhausted from school.  It’s whatever.  Wednesday.  He’s sick.  No mention of cancelling Thursday.  We text.  We chatter.  I’m deep into paper writing mode.  But still.  I’m not fucking clueless.  I can sense it coming.  I mean.  People don’t get better overnight.  I mean.  I still have the occasional residual coughing from a BRUTAL cough/cold/flu I had in September. Just Sayin’.

And here’s the thing of the thing.  I’m the queen of expectations.  In that I expect people not to be retarded and spit it the fuck out, say it like it is, I don’t have all day.  But I’m an optimist.  If I weren’t I wouldn’t keep letting those damn expectations get the best of me.  So even though I know I have a “cancel” coming my way.  I have this little hope.  A hope of a hope.  That I’m not going to be disappointed.  That this second date I’m hoping for is going to happen.

Date’s Off.

But it doesn’t.  Thursday morning rolls around.  And there is a text.  On my phone.  About how sick he is.  And blah blah blah.  And I know what you’re thinking.  I’m sure he was super apologetic.  I’m sure he likes you.  Only I wasn’t so sure.  Because there was no I’m so sorry.  It was mostly a boys pity party.

Detour.  I know boys are babies.  When they get sick.  I was in a 6 year relationship after all.  And I have married friends to tell me all about it.  We’ve all seen it.  We can attest to it.  Boys are the biggest pansies when they get sick.  And just a Dear Boys, for you boys…nobody likes a pans.  Just Sayin’.

Back on Track.  So I’m kind of upset (partly just at the situation [him being sick and date being cancelled] and partly at the fact that he knew he was sick…should’ve cancelled earlier).  But…I also get what it is to be sick.  And I fucking hate being sick.  So I get it.  Being sick sucks.  We barely know each other.  Not sweating it.

Okay I’m lying.  I’m not sweating it to him.  But I’ll tell you guys the truth.  I was Major cranky pants.  Sergeant super irritaed.  Colonel “this sucks” hissy fits McGee.  Mostly I’m just pissed because while the lack of apology would’ve be fine on the one hand.  His text.  Conveys mostly a concern that he might be too sick  to go to his work Xmas party on the Friday night and a friend’s Xmas party on the Saturday.  But it’s whatever.  I realize we barely know each other.  And but of course Xmas parties come but once a year.  So basically I’m just telling you guys this so you understand how I was irrationally feeling though I am FULL ON aware of the irrationality of feeling those feelings in the first place.  So obvs. I keep the feelings ick to myself.  And to my friends lol.

So I have to tell you now.  That I was harsh PMSing.  And to be clear.  I’m not some moody teenager who doesn’t know when they’re acting ridiculous.  BUUUUTTT.  When it’s almost my “Lady Time” (I don’t care what you people say…it’s my favorite way to allude to it and I’m keeping it!) I can become…to put it nicely…hysterical.  Now I’ll be aware that I’m being hysterical.  And I’ll know that at some point…say within a week.  I’ll return to normal.  But that doesn’t mean I can necessarily turn it off.  So in my defense.  In my irrational feelings defense.  I blame mother nature.  And that bitch who visits me every month.  And such is life.  You gotta accept the good with the bad.  But I just needed you guys to know.  I needed a preface.  I needed to explain why I felt so hysterical when we all know I’m an advocate of not being too intense in the beginning.  Being.  Breezy.  If you will.

Date’s On.

So the weekend comes and goes.  He goes to the parties like a champ.  And oddly enough he seems to be feeling better.  Perhaps it was his optimism.  Perhaps he’s one of those lucky people who if they can get enough rest are feeling tip top within a day or two.  I can barely understand this concept since I’m usually sick for weeks at a time.  But there ya go.  Who am I to question optimism and health right?  So through all this time we’re texting and occasionally calling.  He suggests we hang out Sunday night.  But alas.  I have my first final exam of this session 830am Monday morning.  So that’s a no go.  Monday night? and it’s on.  Date’s on.  We have plans for Monday night.

Monday morning I get up at the crack of dawn.  Who am I kidding.  I was up well before dawn.  In fact dawn had barely broken by the time I was parking at UBC.  When I get a text from him.  TheNickName.  Something super cute about wishing me good luck and about how I was going to kill it! and to call him when I’m done.

Which I did.  In both respects.  And that’s when I heard it.  In his tone.  In his voice.  In his cough.  The cancel was coming.  He was sick again (or still) whatever.  So we were back to square one.  Sick.  Date cancelled.

Date’s Off.

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

She Says I’m Stubborn Like It’s a Bad Thing

I can't believe I went out with him

You’re stubborn. You’ve actually been really stubborn with all the boys this summer

My friend.  Says this.  A week after I wrangle a reason out of Trucker Joe for the continued attention but discontinued physical contact also known as date #7 .  We’re having coffee and I’m trying to wrap my head around this whole being friends with Trucker Joe thing.  Because the thing of the thing is.  When I left his place.  He had me fully convinced that he thought I was the awesomest of all awesome chicks but that he just didn’t love me and was still all messed up from his divorce.  But here I was a week later.  After 7 weeks in a row where he had made the effort/date all but one time.  With excited utterings of friendship fresh on my ears.  And no contact.  Okay well almost none.

On our last date I told him I had gone to Lady Gaga the night before.  He didn’t know who she was.  I know.  I know.  That should have been a dealbreaker right there.  But I digress.  So I posted a video.  A little…Poker Face.  On his page.  And he responded by thanking me.  And saying something like he actually didn’t even mind it that much lol.  But aside from that nothing.  And here I am thinking.  Hmm.  Was what he said all bullshit?  Because even since getting home that night it hadn’t sat quite right.  I mean.  I get not wanting to be in a relationship because your divorce fucked you up.  But not wanting to say…bang away the pain…I’d never even really heard of a guy being like that.  But maybe.  I mean I’m sure.  I guess it’s possible.  And the split did seem awfully traumatic.  But still.  I mean really?  So I tried to ignore those thoughts.  Because they always say you should take a person at their word.

And here it was a week later.  With no real contact.  No asking how are you?  No making plans to hang out.  As friends obviously.  But for a guy to spend 7 weeks hanging out with me because he thought I was just that awesome it would seem weird to suddenly cease the contact.  Because.  I mean.  I’d understand hanging out that long if you’re getting laid.  But to spend that much time with someone you just want to be buddies with?  That’s just bizarre.  I probably should take him at his word that he thinks I’m that awesome.  Yes no?  And that’s when my friend piped in.  About how stubborn I am.  About how stubborn I’ve been all summer with the “somethings“.

So I decide.  If we’re doing the buddy thing afterall.  I’ll just contact him.  Because that’s what buddies do.  They don’t sit around allowing the other buddy to make the first contact.  They’re friends.  They just dial it up.  So that’s what I did.  Well sort of.  I mean.  No dialing.  Just facebooking.

SSD August 31 at 1:14pm
Hey kiddo 🙂
What’s new? How was your week?

Trucker Joe August 31 at 1:33pm
good SSD…. how r u???? i’m sorry bout things, i didn’t mean to b cruel and i didn’t think u were that into me,i didnt want to lead u on in anyway i just really liked hanging with u…. altho i like reading the blog, (u can be F.N. hilarious) i feel like a bit of a heel after reading it:(

what u been up to?

SSD August 31 at 1:53pm
Aww I wish we were having this conversation in person…because I don’t really know how to ease your burden without just saying the truth (which then makes me sound like a total jackass lol)…but basically don’t sweat it…and you were right…I wasn’t that into you…okay that came out wrong…it wasn’t like I wasn’t into you…but it’s not like I was into you either…I mean we barely know each other still…

Things to remember about me:

1. I’m not like other chicks (who are quick to think there’s a connection, fall in like, in love, etc. get super intense and all those other shenannigans)

2. Writing…is writing. Sometimes it gets dressed up. Sometimes it gets dressed down. It’s still the truth. Just better.

But seriously…don’t sweat it…bear in mind how I talk about “the hot guy from my gym” or the comments on that picture my friend just tagged of me on here of this swoony security gaurd…these are boys I’ve never EVEN talked to and my reaction to them…ya know…sometimes talk is just talk 🙂 because it’s fun…and this is my summer of fun ya know?

So is this why there’s been a lack of harassment on your part to hang out with me?…

Trucker Joe August 31 at 2:28pm
lol…. no i’m on nights for a while sooo my sched has changed a bit….. when i’m back too days i’d like to buy u a coffee or something….

the blog is awesome, i like to read it, u r soo talented and as u say it some of that shit is funny:)

SSD August 31 at 5:26pm
Sounds good….and thanks my blog aims to please 😛

So I do have to ask though…before we get too deep into the friendzone and it becomes weird to talk about…but I can’t not ask…A…because I’m a curious person…B. because my readers will ask and I’ll need something to explain it 😛

What was with the kissing? like…if you’re not attracted to me…why was there any kissing? Was it just a case of…well…I’ll just give it a try and hope an attraction to her grows? Did my one time mention of it via text make you feel super pressured or something? Did you just do it as some sort of misguided attempt to placate me so that I wouldn’t stop hanging out with you? Another reason I haven’t thought of? And honestly I’m asking in the most non-critical but super curious…I have to know the answer to things kind of way 🙂

Anyways hope the night shifts aren’t too brutual for ya 🙂

Radio Silence. 

Dead Air.  

The end of days kind of quiet.

Even the crickets stopped moving.


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

Answers in Dating Trilogy: Grabbed My Balls Like Chuck Norris Said


[dropcap]I’m really struggling[/dropcap] to write about Date #7.  With Trucker Joe.  The Date with the answers.  Because.  To be honest.  This situation is novel.  New.  Fresh.  Virgin.  (Never thought I’d find a way to slip that word into this blog did ya?)  Like totally and completely never happened to me before.  And it’s tough enough trying to figure out how I feel about everything.  Where I fit into everything?  What is going to happen next?  What is my next move?  Let alone trying to figure out how to say it all.  In truth.  But with style.  And humor.  Because we all know I love the humor.

So here I am.  Pondering.  Thinking.  Attempting to feel it all out.  When it comes to me.  This part.  The uncertainty.  This is not new.  In fact.  This is a recurring problem.  And by problem I mean excuse to talk about Chuck Norris.  So I look back.  To a post I wrote.  Almost at the very beginning of this whole adventure.  The beginning of Something She Dated.  And I ask myself.  WWCND.  What would Chuck Norris Do (fix link).  And I tell ya what.  It makes perfect sense.  He’d round-house kick that uncertain Artax-Me out of this universe and I’m saying…my shoulders are feeling lighter already…that bitch was really weighing me down.  (if this part doesn’t make sense it’s because you didn’t read the link…which normally I’m not high pressure about but honestly it’ll really help you understand where I’m at.)

So it might not be perfect.  I might forget to mention details and have to come back.  I may say things.  And then change my mind about how I feel about them.  I may have all the answers.  I may only have some of the answers.  I may still have more questions.  I might learn things.  Adapt to things.  Say things I don’t mean.  Say things I do mean.  But there ya go.  Because Chuck Norris came to me in a dream last night.  And he said, grow a pair.  So I’m grabbing my balls, boys and girls.  And taking a leap.  There may even be some emotions involved in here.  I’ll keep ya posted.

So just to do a quick recap.  So that everybody is on the ball(s) about Trucker Joe.  Here is the post by post.  The blow by blow.  The lack of touch by lack of kiss if you will.  The confusion before the answers.

Pre date Online Dating and First Date Jitters
1st date Trucker Joe: Starbucks Coffee Date
2nd Date Second Dates:  What’s Missing from this Picture? and Why Hasn’t He Kissed Me Yet?
3rd date Third Date:  Ask and Ye Shall Receive (Part One) and (Part Two)
4th date Tuesday. Hot. Sticky. Delicious
5th date Vancouver Dating Blogger and the Case of the Missing Move and Vancouver Dating Blogger:  His (Hardy) Boys Solve the Case
6th Date Night at the Drive In: Awesome, Awkward and Answerless

So Sunday rolls around.  And I get a text.  Hey SSD, How’s your weekend?  Tuesday night you want to go play pool somewhere?  And I’m thinking.  Major points.  Because I love love love to play pool (though I’m not good).  And I asked him about pool once before and he seemed not so keen.  But alas I was out on the town and didn’t want to send a text at like 2am when I got home.  So the next day I responded.  Sounds great.  Count me in.

And then there was Tuesday.  Which was technically still part of my busiest weekend ever.  Having done a movie night Friday, attempt to attend two parties (only made it to one) on Saturday, night on the town with friends on Sunday, Lady Gaga on Monday…and now Tuesday.  Trucker Joe and I have a quick chat on the phone.  We meet at his place.  He drives.  We go shoot pool.

While playing pool I notice something.  We have spent a great deal of our time side by side looking foward.  While walking on the beach.  Watching movies.  At the Drive In.  Not that this is crazy weird.  But I notice this because though I had noticed his smile before.  I really notice it now.  Every time I smile at him.  And he smiles back.  Makes me smile again.  The whole night is one big merry-go-round of smiles.  Which is good.  Because I didn’t play very well.  He played well above what I was expecting.  I can’t lie.  It was a huge turn on.  I may not have mentioned it before.  But he has really nice forearms.  I know I know.  A weird thing to be attracted by.  But they’re muscley.  And manly.  They’re grown up forearms.  Forearms that could carry shit.  Just Sayin’.  Though in the end.  With a couple chance shots here and there.  I win a game or two.  I managed to come out the victor.  He assured me we would have to have a re-match.

We laugh.  We’re having fun.  But there’s no touching.  Still not touching.  I mean christ.  I’m not even sure he checks out my boobs when I bend over to make a shot.  I actually think it’s entirely possible he doesn’t.  This is a novel situation.  Is he just really covert with the glances?  Does he really just never check me out?

We leave.  Go back to his place.  I’m feeling a bit weird.  I don’t know what is going on.  Should I stay?  He indicates I should.  Okay.  I think.  But fuck me.  I think it’s time I grew some balls and just fucking asked what was going on?  The TV is on.  We’re watching it.  And by we.  I mean him.  As I’m clearly sitting there having this exact conversation with myself.

Fucking say something!
Ask him.  Just say it.  Just fucking say something.
Why don’t you ever touch me?  What is the deal?  Am I bad kisser?  Have you decided I’m not hot?
Do your balls hurt when you get turned out?  Do you just have no sex drive or something?
Are you not attracted to me?  Has something changed since we made out?
Ask him.  Just say it.  Just fucking say something.
Grab some balls bitch!  Man the fuck up!
You CANNOT have another date without finding out the answers to this. 

And then I do.  After about 10 mintues.  I turn and look at him.  Grab my balls like Chuck Norris would have wanted.  And I say it.  So…uh…this is really embarassing but why don’t you ever touch me?….like I understand if your balls hurt and you don’t want to have sex and all that…but like…you never touch me…there’s no kissing…I mean except for the hugs at the end of the night…there’s like no physical contact whatsoever.

And the thing is.  I knew as soon as I started.  As soon as I turned to him.  As soon as I started asking.  That he knew what was coming.  And honestly it was a relief.  To know that at least.  I wasn’t alone.  In being totally aware of the lack of touching.  That I wasn’t a total floozy for thinking it weird that we hadn’t done more, gone further by now.  But the relief disappeared quickly.  Because immediately I’m thinking.  Shit.  If he’s aware of this.  Then obviously there’s a reason.  An answer.  To all my confusion.  To all my questions.  And I’m guessing.  It’s not going to be great.  I’m guessing.  It’s Not.  Going to be.  Total Awesome Sauce.

To Be Continued…



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

He’s an (oxy)Moron: The Indecisive Lawyer

Head Desk
[dropcap]S[/dropcap]o sometimes.  I have to tell a story.  Because I just have to.  Because it’s in the timeline of my life.  In the timeline of my dating.  And it’s entirely possibly you don’t care.  But I have to say it anyway.  Because it’s a piece of the puzzle.  The puzzle of Something She Dated.  The puzzle of me.  Fuck.  Just let me tell  you the story already.

2.5 weeks.  That’s all that’s left.  Until school starts again.  Which is mostly only relevant to potential “somethings” in the sense that in 2.5 weeks.  Their clock.  Is up.  Buzzer sound.  If they haven’t started the race by then.  They’ll be disqualified.  And perhaps they can try again during Christmas break.  Or reading week in February.  Or next April.  Maybe.

Detour.  So we all know I like words.  I mean.  Christ.  I’m a writer.  Studying Literature.  It doesn’t get much more wordy than that.  Oh.  Except when I remind you all that my favorite words include Lozenge and Racoon (which I pronounce rah-coon not raa-coon).  But more so than just words.  Is the hilarity that words can cause.  A simple situation.  Is a simple situation.  Until you add irony.  And connection.  And themes.  Man I love themes. 

Back on Track.  So there I am.  Looking around on  For quite possibly one of the last times before school.  When who should message me.  But a law student.  And we all know I’ve been dying to catch myself a smarty-pants fish.  And for reference.  He’s tall.  And cute.  So I think why not.  Can’t hurt.  Just to chat.  But then a couple details come out.  He’s from here.  But going back to school in Winnipeg in 6 days.  But this is perfect.  And let me tell you why.

1.  I like a smarty-pants
2.  Um…he’s cute…and tall (presumably…we all know my luck with this lol!)
3.  A fling is fun
4.  If all goes well, perhaps I will have someone already lined up to keep me warm during Christmas break

But here’s the big one.  The clincher.  The reason for all this lead on and build up.  The tie in, if you will.

5.  He is a law student + Clearly if meeting was good to go it would be first date Total Slutamonium + Let’s not forget the recent experience that caused the creation of Lindsay’s Law = A Law Student Finds A Loop Hole In Lindsay’s Law.  I mean this shit just writes itself.  Yes No?

So reason #5 would probably have been enough for me.  I mean quite frankly.  Like I said.  I’m a friggin’ sucker for a funny story/awesome experience/hilarious irony/potentially great sexcapade.  But even so, I was still glad for #’s 1-4.  So after a great deal of chatting and texting.  We decide to meet.  During basically the busiest weekend I’ve had all summer.  No biggie right.  What could go wrong?

Thursday:  I’m way too busy.  Can’t possibly meet at any point during the day.  He is very eager.  But I can’t.  Simple.  Case closed.  So we aim for Friday.

Friday:  I know I’ll be A. downtown and B. free around 9:30pm.  So we make plans.  He’s going out for beers with buddies.  He’ll be ready around then.  I text.  I’m finished with my plans…are you still down for hanging out?  And you won’t believe his response.  I mean you will in a online dating boys are fucking douchebags so often it’s ridiculous but you won’t in a is this boy retarded…nobody puts SSDated in the corner (or something like that).  His response:  I think I’m going to stay at the bar for awhile.  Um…hey douchebag?  Were you under the impression I would A. think that response was of an acceptable excitement level to meet me or B. wait for your ass?  Boy.  Please.  So obviously I threw up the dueces (metaphorically) and went home.  20 minutes later.  He texts:  Still Downtown.  Nope.  That’s all I say.  Nope.  Because nobody likes Angry Annie.

Saturday:  He messages.  So apologetic.  So sorry.  So wants to make it up to me and blah blah blah.  But the thing is.  I’m not free.  All day busy.  And at night I have 2 events to go to.  But he’ll wait up for me he says anytime I want to hang out.  Yeah.  Dude.  Like I want to meet a stranger (who may or may not be retarded) at 2am…seriously?  I tell him I’ll consider it lol.  But the thing is.  This all becomes irrelevant.  **TMI WARNING***  As throughout the evening.  It becomes an inconvenient time of the month.  So the question becomes.  Do I consider meeting him the next day.  Even though.  Well.  To be frank.  There would be no sex???  I mull this thought over throughout the evening with a new friend.  We decide.  I’ll text.  Just tell him what’s up.  And go from there.  I was supposed to wait till the next day to do it.  lol but when I texted to say I wouldn’t be meeting up that night.  He was so damn persistent I eventually just spilled it.  Fortunately.  Er…Um…unfortunately he was okay with “the situation”.  Honestly.  A bit too okay.  Like thinking sex was still on the table.  Um no.  Thanks though on behalf of women everywhere for being cool with it….but no…I’m not.  We decide to meet for coffee the following night.

Sunday:  The plan is to meet for coffee.  Because see.  I was still technically busy.  I was supposed to have dinner and hit the town with my bro (his girl, my cousin and his girl).  So the plan.  I would meet Law Student around 5…dinner at 7…hit the town with the fam…and assuming coffee had gone well and he still thought I was hot and I still thought he wasn’t a serial killer…we would hook up afterwards.  And then sometime around 330pm.  He hits me with it.  Umm…so I think I should probably spend tonight with my dad, ya know spend some time with him before I go back to school.

Um…What.  The.  Fuck.  And that’s kind of what I said.  Or at least insinuated.  And that’s when he lays it on me.  The oxymoron.  Yeah I guess I’m kind of er…um…indecisive.  An indecisive lawyer (law student)??? like what the fuck dude.  You will not be going far in this career methinks.  But either way.  I had to draw the line on the douchebaggery.  So I hit a little control/block/delete (see how I played off of ctrl/alt/delete there…just wanted to make sure you caught that…the reboot ya know 🙂  And there you have my non-experience with the non-lawyer.

Though as my brother pointed out to me (quite astutely I might add).

How do you know he’s a law student.  Because he told you?

Aww fuck me.  *palm to forehead*  So that my friends…is the story of the Indecisive Lawyer…He’s an (oxy)Moron.  Fuck I Love Online Dating.


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

Vancouver Dating Blogger: His (Hardy) Boys Solve The Case

Head Desk
[dropcap]So[/dropcap] when I last left you.  I was at Trucker Joe’s.  On our 5th Date.  We had finished watching Gran Torino.  And now.  At 1am.  We’re just sitting on the couch.  Talking.  And then he turned to me and said….

So I really want to make a move.  But.  I have something embarassing to tell you.

Whoa.  Fuck.  My mind is racing.  The following possibilities run through my mind in rapid succession.

1. He’s dating another chick, they’re exclusive and he can’t see me anymore…
2. He has VD…
3. He has ED…
4. He’s really just not attracted to me…
5. He’s actually still married…
6. He’s tired and lame and just wants me to go home already…

Now I know you all really like Trucker Joe.  Are rooting for Trucker Joe.  And that’s why I really feel the need to stop.  Before I go any further.  And preface this by saying.  That all boys are retarded in general.  Basically.  They’re all 12 years old and never grow up.  And I’m not even just saying this.  To defend Trucker Joe.  Because he is not the first boy.  Who was retarded.  In this field of…er…expertise.

So obviously my head is spinning at this point.  I’m sure I looked like a deer caught in the headlights coupled with a concerned mother worried about a little kid.  So I can’t really remember exactly what he said to me.  But here’s the gist of it.  Try not to throw him out with the bath water just yet.

– his “boys” are killing him

– his friend (read: not a doctor, not even likely someone smart) told him to try these testosterone patches to ya know…amp his manhood up

– he stopped using them a little while back

– he’s making a doc appointment to get it checked out


– but he’s basically incapacitated in that way right now

Oh Trucker Joe.  *shakes head*  But I mean.  What are ya gonna do right?  Fuckin’ Boys eh?  I’m just hoping this is a case of I-want-to-make-my-dick-super-human and not my-dick-doesn’t-really-work-that-great ya know?  So I stayed for a bit longer.  Chatted for a bit longer.  Brought the laughter back.  And then.  Being that it was about 2am and I knew there’d be no sexy behavior occuring.  I called it a night.  Again, he walked me to my car.  Hugged me goodbye.  And waited while I drove away.

And at first I’m kind of like.  Okay well I get the not heavy-gettin’-it-on.  But man.  At least there could have been some hand holding.  Or making out.  Or at least a kiss goodbye.  But if he’d held my hand he’d have had to tell me then so it didn’t go further and it probably took him those two movies to get up enough courage to spill it.  And the making out.  Well.  I’m guessing same thing.  Plus maybe getting aroused makes his (hardy) boys hurt more.  Who knows?  The kiss goodbye…I guess maybe he was just still super embarassed.  Who knows.  Best not think too deeply on it.  For now.

But what I do know is this.  Though I hadn’t actually decided if we would be sleeping together yet.  I still wore the red lacies that night.  And they were frustrated.  Good natured and understanding.  But still.  Frustrated.  By this new development.

My undies are definitely disappointed.  I said.
They won’t be for long.  He said with certainty.
Vancouver Dating Blog:  Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time

Vancouver Dating Blogger and the Case of the Missing Move

Dating Mistakes

[colored_box color=”blue”]
Police Officer: So, you say ma’am, that the move went missing somewhere around your 5th date?

SSD: That’s right officer.  It was there on the 4th date, all hot and heavy like.  And then on the 5th date, it was just gone.  No where to be seen. [/colored_box]

And like seriously.  I was stumped.  Until he explained it.  Embarassed.  Awkward.  A boy.  I mean really.  Aren’t they all just 12 year old boys on the inside.  I feel like this is a flashpoint episode.  Where they show you the pinnacle moment.  The flashpoint.  At the beginning of the show.  And then super-speed rewind to the beginning.  And show you how it got to that exact moment.  So this is like that.

Super Speed Rewind.

So I can’t lie.  After driving home from my visit with Mega Love.  I was hoping to have a text message or a call from Trucker Joe.  I mean.  We had this amazing date on Tuesday.  And it was now Friday.  And I hadn’t heard anything.  Which isn’t uncommon.  Because we don’t really do much talking in between dates.  And yet.  Every week.  He makes plans.  For a date.  On one of his days off.  So I shouldn’t have been insecure.  And I’m not sure I was.  But I was definitely excited? anxious? impatient? something.

But before I really have time to let any of that grab ahold of me.  He texts.  Saturday morning.  And we make plans for Monday.  And then Monday rolls around and he asks what time is good for [me]?  And I say 730 or 8ish?  And then it gets.  Well.  Er.  Um.  Unsatisfactory.  I’ll come out there this time, so you’ll have to decide.

SCREEEEEEEEEECH!!!! Wait…Hold up…Wha?!?!

See the thing is.  I don’t live alone.  I’ve told you all this before.  He knows this.  Plus.  No lie.  I live in kind of a small town.  So I really don’t like to have people in my “area” and then add to that, the fact that it was raining (aka no beach fun) and there’s not really anything else to do here.  So I was totally like.  What.  The.  Fuck.  But I also know he’s just a nice guy, a gentleman.  So he probably just didn’t want to make me drive all the time.  But even so.  Not gonna happen.

We get it sorted.  He was just being nice.  I basically invite myself over to his place for movies.  I show up around 8 baring gifts of popcorn.  Microwave popcorn.  This turns into an intense conversation about how it’s actually done.  Do you follow the instructions?  Do you count in your head in between pops?  (I should mention way way back when microwaves first really became the norm.  We got one.  And the first thing we made was popcorn.  Burnt to shit.  Like practically a flame.   So Just Sayin’.  I’ve been scarred).  The funny thing is.  On the 4th date.  Conversation was a little.  Uh.  I want to say strained.  But not quite strained.  More just like nervous.  Timid.  Very.  Question.  Answer.  Question.  Answer.  Question.  Answer.  This time.  The conversation was much more banter-like.  Ebb and flow.  Back and forth.  Lob and volley.  Nice.

By the way.  This time I dressed more casual.  Cute new jeans and cute hoodie.  He notices.  Says with an approving smile.  Good.  You look much more comfortable this time.  Wait.  Er.  Um.  Did he just call me “comfortable looking”?  And I could freak out.  Like a chick.  But I know that he’s just a bit hick town.  And that’s cool.  That he’s more concerned that I’m feeling comfortable and good.  And I think.  I’m pretty sure he means.  That I looked.  Good.  But I’m just saying.  Bit.  Weird.

So we sit.  He lets me choose the movie.  I’ve narrowed it to Iron Man and Gran Torino.  He has no preference.  We watch Iron Man.  And for the next 126 minutes.  We sit there.  Like teenagers.  Nervous teenagers.  Teenagers who haven’t kissed.  Only we have.  So.  What.  The.  Fuck.  There is no handholding.  There isn’t even any touching.  The closest thing is eating out of the same popcorn bowl.  Which I eventually put down on the table.  And then around 100 minutes of no kissing.  I pick it back up.  And start to nibble.  Want me to make some more? he says.  No thanks I smile but I reserve the right to change my mind later.  He smiles.  Don’t worry he says.  I was planning to make more for Gran Torino anyways.

Okay.  So let’s just tally this a bit.  A whole movie.  No touching.  No kissing.  That seems to indicate a lack of attraction.  But he wants to watch both movies.  Wants to keep me here.  Wants to prolong the hanging out?  That seems to indicate he likes me.  And I mean.  We have hung out every week since we met.  5 weeks.  5 hang outs.  What.  The.  Fuck.  But I mean.  All non-kissing aside.  I’m still having a really good time.  We’ve been joking a lot.  Laughing a bunch.

So we watch Gran Torino.  116 minutes later.  STILL no fucking kissing.  Still no fucking touching.  And now it’s just the TV playing background noise.  And we’re talking.  And then he turns to me and says…

To Be Continued….His (Hardy) Boys Solve the Case



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

Twitter Guy: Breach of Contract

Dating Mistakes

Twitter Guy.

Tomorrow will make 3 weeks since our first date.

I can barely muster the enthusiasm to write this post (which is a bit of a spoiler alert to how things panned out).  But before I do.  I’d like to hit you all with a little recap of what this summer was/is supposed to be about…on the dating front.  The following is a little tidbit from my post about The Boys of Summer aka My Summer of Boys.  Please pay special attention to references of fun and laughter.

I want to have fun fun fun and nothing nothing nothing
but fun. I want to have first kisses and 6 hour dates.
I want ridiculously hilarious stories to ply my friends/blog
readers with. I want to juggle.  I want 4 dates a week.
I want to date multiple people at the same time.
 I want to have fun fun fun. I want to ride go karts
and shoot pool. I want to play darts and go bowling.
I want to play naked scrabble and go camping.
I want to laugh laugh laugh more than I’ve ever laughed
before. I want inside jokes and sexy banter, witty
repartee and have you been there? I want everything.
I want it now. I want it this summer.


So all of my issues aside.  It should be pretty clear what I want and don’t want.  And just to reiterate, it’s not like this is the one and only mention of fun, breeziness, what I want, etc.  So what is your point, SSD?  My point is this….


Dating Intent Contract
Summer of Boys, 2010

To Potential Daters,

The Datee seeks to be dated in a timely summer fling like manner.  The Datee expects to have fun fun fun and to laugh laugh laugh during all interactions.  The Datee would like it clearly stated, that because of the nature of the “dating” being both time and emotionally constrained; the Daters will act in a swift fashion, pursuing dates quickly if they are to occurr at all, and will relegate any and all negativity, problems, need for support, and emotional baggage to interactions with their friends.  In lieu of emotional support, The Datee agrees to dress sexily, act lustily, and perform as often and enthusiastically as possible.  The Datee, while unwilling to committ to any kind of exclusivity, promises to be available at least one weekend night (when planned) or one weekend night (after midnight only, when unplanned), plus one week night per week.  The Dater should note that planning, while not required, is always generously rewarded.  Due to the required limiting of excuses, reasons, and explanations, The Dater is urged to act with precision and purpose.  The Datee understands that some of these requests seem controlling and unreasonable but since she is not asking for such acts as “hand-holding, introduction to friends, emotional support, gifts, dates to weddings, etc.” and instead offering a ready supply of sexy behavior and fun, finds the requests rational and easily adherable.  The Dater is free to disengage at anytime without anger or resentment however, failure to adhere to this contract will result in irritatibility and thus ends well for no one.

Signed Datee   Something She Dated
Signed Dater    ______________________

The Tie In.

So now I bring you back to the tale of Twitter Guy.  Which has not gone well.  For those of you that missed the post or need a refresher you can read all about the date with Twitter Guy Here.  Because I honestly barely want to bother writing this post, I’ve narrowed what I can down to just point form events.  Most of which I shouldn’t have bothered with.  Most of which involve my misguided attempt to be open (and simply opened myself up to being a loser…ugh…something I really despise).  By the end of the whole thing, not only does it not work out the way I had hoped, but somehow I managed to show my whole hand and may have even ended up throwing my shirt into the pot.  Basically super loser city.  Ugh.  Basically not a good look for me.  Note to self:  must look cooler with next dater.

– The next day, I emailed a funny video (that I had said I would on the date).  I shouldn’t have emailed him.

– The following monday I texted, “How was your weekend” (he responded pleasantly).  I shouldn’t have texted him.

– He messaged me when he saw I was about to start posting all the stuff about him.  He thought me posting was good.  I clarified it was not.  I shouldn’t have bothered talking to him.

– At some point along the way he did convey that he thought we had a good connection, he had a good time, and obviously I’m hot.  He thanked me for a job well done on the posting (a good mix of revealing and privacy, a smart lady)  He seemed quite please with my blog opinion of him.

– I felt compelled to set him straight that while he was doing things right then…he was not doing so awesome at present.  I shouldn’t have bothered.

– I conveyed my disappointment that he turned out to be exactly like all the other boys he claimed he was so unlike (which honestly was the reason I went out with him to begin with).  I shouldn’t have bothered talking to him.

– He felt that that was unfair but that I was entitled to my opinion.

– I explained it wasn’t my opinion, it was an assessment of facts.  The email went on so long I began to feel bitchy and judgemental, not to mention a bit like I was coming across like I was trying to convince him to date me.  I said as much.  I said that my interest was correlationally related to time passed.  I shouldn’t have bothered.

– He emailed back

I agree with everything you just said. And I don’t have a problem with
your conclusions, either! You are right about me not reaching out.
There’s a couple of reasons for that (none of which relate to you) and
maybe we can have a Diet Coke next week to discuss and catch up.
You’re not being bitchy or judgmental, and you’re not trying to convince
me to date you: You’re letting me know how you feel and that is
perfectly valid.

Sidebar:  Ugh.

– I had a double header that night so I don’t respond right away.  I spent thursday considering it.  Do I really want to pursue this further?  Am I really interested in hearing reasons?  Isn’t my position regarding this summer essentially that I am not interested in excuses or reasons (keep that shit for your friends) I just want the fun parts?  But I do like the fact that while I think I’m being completely insane by even having these conversations at all, he is either fine with it or doesn’t notice.  Either option is good.  So I think, just go for it.  So on Friday morning, I email back.  Sure, sounds good.  I shouldn’t have.

– It’s now Tuesday.  and nothing.  no response.  no setting time and place.  not even a okay, glad you still want to.  and I could even be as ridiculous as to spot him the weekend (being father’s day weekend and all that) but ya know what…he’s been on Twitter…and it’s Tuesday.

So ladies and gentleman.  It’s been 3 weeks since our first date.  No dates made.  No plans set.  Barely any interest expressed.

And I’m out.

In all fairness I feel the need to include my final possible shouldn’t have bothered though I’m not totally convinced, because honestly I still hope he replies back to it.  With info.  Because he’s the first of the “Somethings” that I can even ask for a review and frankly with science and dating I’m bloody well interested.  So yesterday, before I had totallly decided that I was out, I emailed this:

Hey 🙂

So it just occurred to me that you are an untapped resource in my quest for dating research (aka becoming the world’s most awesome dater, yes? no?)

So since you got to read your critique (positives and negatives) I think it’s only fair 😉 that you share a little of that info back to me lol. Things that you didn’t like? Things that you did? Things I could have done better? Things I shouldn’t have done at all? Things I should have? What would have made me more awesome?…you get the idea 🙂 So yeah…fill me in because I’m all about knowledge leading to improvement and who doesn’t want to say that he had a hand in molding the world’s most awesome dater right?

Perhaps I shouldn’t have.  Perhaps he will respond and it’ll end up being useful.  Technically he doesn’t know that I’m out.  But honestly, with his reponse time I’m not sure I need to even say, I’m out.  Clearly his interest is lacking.  And well.  Frankly, finding out here is just as good.  If he’s even interested at all.  So there ya go.


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