He calls me sweet.
I think it’s a language barrier thing. But it makes me swoon.
There’s a saying that goes something like ‘the only difference between a guy saying something creepy and a guy say something sweet, is how good looking he is’. And in a roundabout way, there’s some validity to this. Though it’s not all about the looks. It’s in the way he says it, in the way he looks at you, in the way you two are together. It doesn’t have to be love, it doesn’t have to be soul mate stuff, it doesn’t even have to be the same with every guy. But what can be creepy or a turn off with one guy, can in fact be totally adorable in another.
Like pet names.
The Nick Name once called me schmoopy. I almost died of disgust. That being said, I might’ve even let it slide with France. Okay, admittedly, schmoopy is ridiculous in any language, but you get my drift.
So when he called me Vampire because of my late night hours (see: writer/grad student/nightowl), it was adorable.
And when he calls me sweet, instead of sweetie, I make no effort to correct him. Because it doesn’t matter. Because I don’t even want him to use the correct term. Because, sweet.
After our Friday night makeout session, I was hooked.
We texted. We made chatter about work and training (at the gym), about school and writing, about the sturdiness of my newly put together Ikea bed and whether or not it would hold our combined weight. He would happily help me test it out, he said, force te garanti.
And then I did something I don’t normally like to do. I put away all the bullshit rules I feel are implied of a relationship where the guy actually likes me and isn’t just throwing bird seed, and I asked him
So, when do I get to see you next?
When do you want!!
Oh Jesus. Look at the excitement
or language barrier. Swoon. Tomorrow night? To which he answered YES!! Now that’s the kind of enthusiasm I could get behind and in front. And that was that, we would hang out Sunday night. The chatter continued. He had to go to work again soon. This time he was working security. And then he asked have you eaten yet? I had, which is what I told him. Apparently, he wanted to get something to eat and wanted me to join him. I know it seems meaningless but honestly, swoon. The fact that he wanted to hang out with me in a situation that absolutely negated any possibility of sex or action of any kind…well…made me feel good. Simple as that. I told him next time. And he said you bet sexy!
The next afternoon, Sunday, he texted
We talked for a bit and eventually I asked
what time he wanted to hang out tonight?
His response was
I don’t know but maybe late, is probleme?
And honestly it was a problem. I had just gone from feeling secure, feeling liked, feeling like we were dating to feeling like a jump off in less time than it takes to explain what a jump off is.
[For those that don’t know…because when I tweeted this term awhile back I realized it wasn’t as commonly used as I would think…it’s about the same as a booty call…or a side chick…it’s the chick you don’t claim…it’s the girl who’s just for sex…it’s friends with benefits but without the friends…just ask Lil Kim]
Admittedly I was hurt. Not devastated or anything. I mean, what had I really been expecting to happen between us? Could a language barrier be that easily overcome (especially given my love of communication)? Did we even have anything in common? Did we have any of the same values? Hopes for our future? Dreams for the world? Could we even ever have a phone conversation? So I mean…I guess it wasn’t the end of the world.
It certainly wasn’t going to keep me from participating in all kinds of sexy shenanigans with him.
All that being said, I like to know where I stand.
Because I can put up my walls and be a grown up and prepare myself for a relationship based purely on amazing sex (and enjoy the fuck out of it…don’t get me wrong). And I can be the sweet girl that shares things with you and lets you in and is all giggles and sunshine and wants to talk about (fun and interesting) things till 2am (and THEN have the amazing sex). But I need to know which girl to be. Both girls are me. Both girls are authentic. Both girls are the truth. But I need to know which girl to be if we don’t want to end this thing with me playing psycho killer on repeat
and ripping you to shreds on the blog.
And so I asked, because that’s how I roll,
Which he thought meant, what time are you coming? And thus answered 9pm or 10pn
I told him I meant – why? But yeah that’s fine. And it was. Truthfully, when he had said late I had been thinking midnight or 1am or something.
And then he answered my question
Because is only my day off per week i don’t want stress for speed, be relax.
Which was fine with me, and something I completely understood. I hate being rushed for a date, because then I show up all flustered and stressed and it taints things a bit. And being that I’m a nightowl, I didn’t really have a problem with this.
Still, there was a bit of a sting from the whole thing. Okay, sure maybe I wasn’t a jumpoff, but I didn’t feel great about it. I mean, he was still just coming over to my place, and the whole coming over late thing, and blah. Meh. Boo.
Then he threw a change up.
And asked if I wanted to go see a movie.
Which I most definitely did. Did I have any idea what was playing at the theatres here?? No clue. Did I have a particular movie in mind?? Not a chance. Did it really matter in the slightest?? Not one single bit.
I met him on the corner of Saint Catherine and Saint Mathieu. Now, here’s where I’m going to say something. That might sound…a tad…racist? no…that’s not the word…but well…maybe just a generalization? I don’t know. You decide. But here’s the thing, he was wearing sweat pants, joggers, the kind of thing that I spend almost everyday studying in the winter (except without UBC stamped on the butt, obviously). Only…I didn’t mind.
Now I know what you’re thinking. a. Ugh. Gross. and b. Um…hasn’t this chick given dudes the hardest time for wearing the same thing on previous dates (see: Garbage Man and Cry Baby Romeo). Okay, actually I just realized that Cry Baby Romeo would negate this theory…so it’s definitely not a race thing…maybe it’s just a hot guy thing? or a muscle bound sex god thing? I don’t know.
See I was going to write this whole big thing about how white dudes wearing jogging pants is totally unacceptable for anything shy of spending the weekend together. But then, what about Cry Baby Romeo ?? Admittedly, he was a step up from Garbage man, his joggers were nicer, newer, more stylish. But nonetheless, it still wasn’t great. So humph. There’s go that theory. Or maybe the theory works and Cry Baby Romeo was just the exception to the rule. More thought on this required.
Needless to say, when France showed up in what looked like brand new joggers and a tight t-shirt, I couldn’t have cared less. He has an amazing shoe game too so I guess it kind of just worked. And honestly, with arms like that who’s even looking at the bottoms.
And so after hugs, and hellos, we walked. For like 10 blocks. Which really isn’t the biggest deal except I was wearing these sandals that sometimes give me blisters when I walk too much (and which I’d worn because I’d assumed we were going to go to the theatre that was only 4 blocks away in the other direction). But I rolled with the punches be breezy and all that like it was no big thing.
The walk, as walks tend to do, gave us plenty of time to talk. On our first date he had asked me if I stayed friends with exes. I had answered yes, because generally speaking, anyone I’ve had a relationship with is a good enough person that I would want to. And at the very least I like things to be amiable. But then I guess the conversation had turned to something else because I never got to ask it back. This walk would give me such an opportunity.
In a very small window of time, I found out a few things, that were…um…not great.
He has kids (not a bad thing on its own). They’re back in Paris. He’s not with the mom, obviously. Hmmm.
The next day he has to go see his ex, I guess they lived together because his name is on the phone, cable, etc. and he has to go get that all sorted out. Hmmm.
And then I asked, so do you stay friends with your exes?
[For reference, boys, the correct answer is yes. Sure, we don’t want you to be all in love with them still and you don’t even really have to be buddies, but what we don’t want is anger. Nobody likes Angry Anthony. Real Talk].
Unfortunately, his answers was not great. He seemed a little unsure how to answer or how to say it. I suggested, like do you stay friendly or when you’re done with them, you’re done with them?
He chose the latter. Oh. Hmmm.
Maybe it was the horrified look on my face or the fact that I literally said that was awful to hear as someone who’s just started dating him. I mean, is that what I have too look forward to? If we ever stop seeing each other he’ll just toss me aside, all angry like?
And then he became all cute again. There were hugs in the street, jokes about not needing to be scared. Real sweet shit. But the moment can’t be erased. But, I mean, was I really looking for something serious? No. In which case, does it really matter? I guess not. Though I don’t like the idea of anyone being that angry at me that they would cut me out of their life. I mean damn. But I guess, you can’t worry about that stuff so, let’s just press on.
We finally arrived at the theatre. Discussed movie choices. Settled on TED. To be honest, I picked TED and he let me pick. So yeah. Cute. And then came the thing that I love. Came the thing that says to me, I am man and I’ve got this. I know it’s sexist. I know many of you people disagree with how I view a guy paying for things. But the truth is, it’s not about the money. It’s about the gesture. It’s the fact that he just strode right up to the counter, ordered two tickets, and then paid for them. Case closed. Done. Butterflies. It’s the same way I’d swoon if while walking down a sidewalk, the dude walks on the outside with me on the inside, or the way I’d want him to grab my hand if it looked like I was going to walk across a street when it was unsafe. What can I say, my dad taught me this stuff as my protector, my hero, my rock. And I find it important.
We rode the 10 escalators to the top. Okay maybe there were only 4 but whatever. I was wearing one of my many maxi dresses and made a joke about how I always have to hold them when I get on and off an escalator because I’m worried they’ll get caught in the gears and rip right off. His response? That if that happened he would take off all his clothes and give them to me. He would walk around in his boxers for me. Now maybe I’m too easy. Or maybe he’s too hot. But dammit if that shit didn’t make me swoon some more. *stands closer, touches him more, is happier*
Once at the top, he asked if I wanted anything to eat. I’ve been really watching what I eat since coming to Montreal (hence the 20lbs. weightloss) and I didn’t really want to spoil it so I said no thanks, I’m good. He was hungry. And I know you’re probably thinking, wow, this sounds really tedious, is this chick really just rambling on about movie theatre food? But I assure you, it’s to highlight a bigger situation.
See, he looked at the line for the popcorn etc. and then he looked at the line for Tim Hortons (yes…they have Tim Hortons in the movie theatre here). The line was 10 deep at the popcorn and only 2 guys at Timmy Hos so that’s where he went. Now, we weren’t late for our movie, we had lots of time. But real talk, he chose Timmy Hos because of the no-line. Now who among us doesn’t hate a lineup. I mean, you’re basically a serial killer if you enjoy it. That being said, it seemed a bit odd to me, like was it really that big of a deal.
Until, I watched as he got more and more irritated. I swear the two dudes in front of us managed to take as long as humanly possible with their order, and there seemed to be some confusions. And I stood there, watching, as this dude beside me got angrier…I mean I could almost literally see his blood pressure rising. I did my best to be adorable and distract him which seemed to work (because fuck yo…this isn’t my city and I’m not about to have some crazy awkward situation where buddy flips out on someone). That being said, the night was a bit of an eye opener both with this and the whole not staying kosher with exes thing. Apparently dude was a tad angry. And honestly I should’ve probably picked up on the that when on the first date he wouldn’t explain any of his tatoos to me (and not because he was tired of doing so or blah blah blah) but more like because he had walls, emotional walls.
Nonetheless, he waited for the food and since Timmy Hos didn’t have water, I had to join the other line to get some. And in the end I ended up offering to get his drink…so really reinforcing, the whole him paying for the movie really isn’t about the money, it’s about the gesture, which I’m happy to return when it presents itself.