Dating a Dating Blogger: The Butterfly Effect

Panda Ponders

Welp.  I’m dating again.

Grad School is over.  Teaching and marking are done, grades have been submitted.  Summer is here, and I have just under 3 months to enjoy absolutely everything Montreal has to offer before my lease runs out and I return (temporarily) to Vancouver.

And before you close the tab on this post because you can’t stand to read another article where I’m frustrated and bitter and jaded about the state of men who are interested in me, that’s not what this post is going to be like.  In fact, it’s probably the absolute opposite.  Or, at least it would be except for one small but crucial element.

More than ever before, I’m worried about altering the trajectory of the dating in my life (see:  butterfly effect).

I should explain.

I used to keep the blog, my Twitter, and my Facebook hidden from the men I dated.

Then there was a period where I felt like my identity was really wrapped up in the blog (turns out it wasn’t the blog as much as being a writer) but either way, I wanted them to know me and to do so they had to know about the blog.  Not to mention I’m basically the world’s worst liar so if a guy asks what I write, I have a problem telling him I write travelogues for nomads (though that sounds kind of fun…no?).

Then the last few months happened (where in all honesty, I have gotten really bitter) and so I started putting my Twitter handle on my Tinder profile.  Wait.  Let me explain the logic of that because I swear there was some.  It started out because I thought that maybe (cringe for my gross ego) if men knew that I was even slightly funny and/or maybe interesting then they’d stop boring me with talk about their stupid penises and maybe try to have a conversation with me.

Then, it became about… welp if they won’t have a conversation with me because I might be awesome, maybe they’ll just be less offensive because I might make fun of them on a public platform.

For the majority of men, I doubt they even read my “profile” aka that otherwise unexplored space below a picture of me.  For reference, it currently says:

Is this app only for hooking up?

Are you trying to bore my vagina into submission?

Are you bothered that Subway lies about inches?

Twitter: @SSDated

 

That being said there have been a few cool guys who managed to check it out.  Well, technically, many guys could have read it and just thought I was the dumbest, but only a few guys have mentioned anything that wasn’t related to their cocks, so I’m making an educated guess here.

 

Now, why does this all suddenly weigh so heavily on me?

 

Because I went out with a guy.  He first contacted me through Plenty of Fish but in the time it took for me to be done with school, we had matched on Tinder.  And thus, he was exposed to my Twitter and this here blog.  And before you worry that I’m going to tear this poor guy apart on the internet and that that’s my big concern…

A.  Do I ever tear anyone apart who hasn’t been a total fucking d-bag to me?  (hint: no)

B.  Spoiler Alert:  he hasn’t been a d-bag to me

C.  Whether it’s good or bad or funny or weird or swoony and amazing, dating is a fickle bitch.  And while he’s probably too busy right now to even concern himself with reading my blog, I know he’s read posts before and possibly will again and I just don’t like the idea that something I say here could affect whatever we have going on.  Not to mention how sticky things could get if I start adding in some new characters, if you know what I mean (I just mean dating other guys, in case you didn’t feel like that was heavy handed enough).

And before you say that it’s not that serious, not that big of a deal.  I know from personal experience that it kind of is.  For those of you who have been around here long enough to remember The Vampire, that all fell to shit and I basically never heard from him after he found out I wrote about dating.  And while other guys have been more understanding…that’s not entirely the point.

After all, even at my most casual, even with a booty call, even when I couldn’t possibly have made any claim on a guy’s time or his dick, I still would’ve been upset, felt a little jilted, and honestly been kind of turned off if I had to read about a dude I’m with (however loosely) banging other chicks.  I always know, when dating, that these things are a potential reality but just like calories, I like to pretend they don’t exist.

So, are you with me so far?  Does this all make sense?  How I don’t want to fuck up my life (read: possible best summer ever!) by dropping a rock in the calm lake waters causing a ripple effect with the potential of a tsunami?  Okay, good.  But now what?

What do I do, about the website?  (which, in a bizarre side note has managed to have the highest readership I’ve ever had, even though I haven’t been posting much because of school).

Do I blog about everything anyway and hope it doesn’t change the course of whatever happens with any of the guys I go out with?  Do I write the posts now but save the posting until August?  Do I save it all and finally write that ebook that I’ve been meaning to and just release it all at once and make some money from the stories (which feels presumptuous and greedy but a girl has to eat, after all someone has to pay back this student loan to the government)?

And as a side note, if your suggestion is anything other than the first option…does that make for a summer of posting about what…feminism?  my personal weightloss?  body issues?  non-male-specific-sex-posts?  poetry?  shitty fiction?  ugh.

5 Things You Should Definitely Not Bother Doing

1.  Eat your weight in ice cream.  Look, I know right?!?!  Sounds fantastic eh?  But I bet there’s a few things you haven’t really thought through.  You’ll get fat.  But it’s so much more than that.  By deciding to do this you’ll be entering into some kind of never ending “eating your weight” snowballing-time-space-continuum where as your weight is ever increasing from eating the ice cream, you’ll subsequently have to consume more and more ice cream in order to make it match your weight, which is continuously increasing.  You see?  Do you see?  It’s madness I tell you, madness.  Sugary delicious cold smooth and creamy heaven like madness, but madness nonetheless.  It’s essentially suicide.  So, you are welcome.  I basically just saved your life.  No worries though, you can pay me back by taking me out for ice cream.

 

2.  Start a rock band.  Let’s face it.  This is just stupid.  You can’t play any instruments, you can’t sing…and to be completely honest you don’t have any friends.  Better just stick to singing along to rockband by yourself…what’s that song that you love again…I’m a creeeeeep.

 

3.  Learn to shoot a bow and arrow.  I don’t know.  Maybe it was that Lord of the Rings marathon you had over Christmas holidays that Legolas sure is fox in tights if ever there was one.  Or maybe it was that one bizarre night when you got super drunk and dialed your crazy ex…went over to his house…had sad pathetic mistake sex and he has since promised to keep his distance only watching you from afar though he defines afar as through your bedroom window and on surveillance cameras that he installed when you went out shopping a few days ago.  Whatever it was, you got it into your head that becoming an Archer was one of your ‘must do’ activities of 2013.  Not to worry though, I’m here to stop this nonsense and save you from yourself.  Before you know it you’ll have spent $300 on a specialty bow and arrow set that will only get used once because when you wake up the next day to take stock of the injuries inflicted you shot your neighbor in the arm while he was out mowing his lawn, forearm bow-string burn, numerous paper cuts from taking down and putting up your target, you basically almost died! you’ll never touch it again.  Plus, paper cuts really hurt, yo.  Use your head.

 

4.  Stop stalking your crush.  Now I know what you’re thinking (huh?).  You’re confused (what?).  You’re unsure (uhhh?).  Am I really advising you to continue stalking your crush??  I sure as fuck am!!  I mean, you’re almost there.  I can practically feel her caving from here.  I’m telling you, it’s working.  If it’s not the excessive telephone calling followed by hangups or the endless texting of What Dooin? that wins her heart, it’ll be the way you regularly drive by her house or respond to everything she ever tweets on twitter (and I mean everything…even the jokes that require no reply).  I’m getting all ooey-gooey just thinking about the romance of it all.  Swoon.  I’ll be eagerly waiting for my invitation to the wedding.  I’ll want to have the chicken not the fish, just sayin’.

 

5.  Find a career that makes you happy.  I mean, sure, in theory this is a great idea.  But can we be realistic for a minute here? What with having to update your skills on your resume and having to take an hour to brainstorm all the possible career paths that might be compatible with your specific skill set like extensive knowledge of She-Ra comics, the ability to eat an entire pot roast in one sitting and an affinity for not wanting to touch coins because they’re just dirty and cold, I mean honestly, you really just don’t have that kind of time.  Plus, if you were to get a job where you were happy, it might lead to having the energy to finally use that gym membership (that you pay heavily for every month), you wouldn’t need to drink constantly and thus you’d probably bankrupt the liquor industry and those people have families too ya know.  I mean Think of the children!!!  Plus what about all the ex-girlfriends/boyfriends that will feel unloved if you were to stop getting almost blackout drunk on weeknights and drexting them gems like whaaaaat r u oing now? and I loooooooooooooooooooooove you and fuck you i dun lov you anyway and my favorite of them all alkdjf duqlen oin;as; me.  So, be responsible, be a good person, and be miserable for the sake of this world.