Never Leave the Party Early: Or, Why I Tell Guys I’m Dating About the Blog

[dropcap]I hate[/dropcap] to leave a party early.  Literally.  Metaphorically.  Consistently.  I hold strong to this.  I’m committed.  It’s vital.  Fucking integral.  To my happiness.  I never leave a party early.  I’d hate to have to leave a party early.  Don’t make me leave the party early.

It has something to do with opportunities.  A fear of missed opportunities I think.  You see.  I don’t believe in God.  And I don’t believe in fate or destiny.  Life just happens.  And it’s beautiful.  But that’s it.  Ebb and flow.  Tide comes in.  Tide goes out.  Life carries on.  So the fun won’t wait for me.  Won’t hold strong for me to return.  So I feel a need to be there for it.  Squeeze as much out of the lemon as I can.  Drink it all.  Laugh at it all.  Take pictures to remember it all.  Love.  Every.  Goddamn.  Minute.  Of it all.  Every moment is the time of my life.  So you can see.  How I wouldn’t want to leave a party early.  How I wouldn’t want burn a bridge between me and fun.  Even.  Just.  Hypothetical-chance-it-might-happen kind of fun.  Dating.  Is sort of like that for me.  The not wanting to leave early.

Now don’t get me wrong.  When dating goes bad.  When lusting goes sour.  When hanging out becomes not fun.  I’m ready to throw in the towel.  Cut the ripcord.  Burn that mother down.  But when it goes.  Just.  Nowhere.  Maybe to a let’s just be friends kind of place or a booty call passionate nights kind of thing.  When it goes there.  I don’t know.  I just feel.  A flaw compulsion not to end things.  So permanently.  I feel compelled to offer a tie.  A hand.  An olive branch.  To be like.  Yeah you screwed up, you lost me.  But obvs. it wasn’t a good fit.  No biggie.  Maybe you’re retarded.  Maybe I’m retarded.  Hopefully one day we’ll both find someone we can be crazy for (fix links).  And so I wish you the best.  No hard feelings.  We’re straight.

And that’s why I tell them.  About the blog.  That’s why.  I show them a piece of me.  Let me in a little.  Let them see a little.  Give them a place of contact.  A point of reference.  I won’t push them out of the party early.  I won’t leave the party early.  And we don’t have to talk to each other.  But at the very least we can still share a bag of chips.  Share the possibility of cotton candy.  Share the potential for a joke.

So it’s not about showing them what they did wrong.  Or revealing how they might have hurt me.  It’s not even really about them.  It’s just about life.  And people.  Them and me.  Us.  Divided by a bridge.  That I won’t light a match over.  Even if at first they think my words are the thing doing that for me.  This blog.  Holds strong.  Because after all.  When the dating profiles get taken down.  In a world where I still maintain some privacy over my facebook.  And major privacy over my home phone number.  And have a cell phone that is both unreliable and maintains an often changing number.  It is a link.  Keeping a presence.  Holding a place.  For contact.  For a joke.  For a smile.  For the fun at the party.  Mind the Gap.  And never leave the party early.


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

And The Douchie Goes To… Neither? Both of Us? (Part 3 of 3)

Head Desk

And The Douchie Goes To…


It’s really tough to say.  Because we were both kind of douches.  I think? But then again.  It’s dating.  And what is dating except a process where you selectively reject and accept people.  You keep some cards close to your chest (at least you should).  There are games.  Not necessarily malicious or deceitful games.  But social rules.  Patterns of behavior.  I mean you’re playing a game simply by not being socially retarded.  You make mistakes and learn.  Or not learn as the case may be.  Maybe he was a douche for how he presented himself.  Maybe I was too.  Maybe I was a douche for thinking he was a douche.  I mean sometimes.  It just starts to not matter.  And honestly.  I have to say.  I’m getting a little bored with the whole Trucker Joe saga.  It was fun/retarded/dramatic/interesting while it lasted.  But it’s over now.  Finito.  And in the interest of full disclosure.  Because I’d hate to think that anyone might get the impression that I was only presenting his exact convos while leaving my side to be spliced and spiced.  I figured I’d better show you my part.  So here it is.  My exact response to him.  A couple days later.

[colored_box color=”blue”]SSDated          September 11 at 12:09pm<
Hey 🙂
Congrats on finding a girl you really connect with! Had I known a really intense connection was what you were looking for I could have probably saved you the trouble, because I knew we’d never have that kind of connection, right from the get go (though I had some fun hanging out and got a ton of material lol) so I guess I’m sort of glad you didn’t. Truth be told I kind of specifically chose to date you because I knew there WOULDN’T be an intense connection (afterall I wasn’t looking for that…I just wanted to date and have some fun…which I thought had been clear from the first date when you asked me about exclusivity and I was totally against it). And perhaps you yourself didn’t know that’s what you were looking for…though just as a tip…a guy who needs an emotional connection for sex…is a guy who is looking for an intense connection (and there’s nothing wrong with that…truth be told millions of girls the world over [I’m assuming [blah blah] included ;)] are seeking exactly that…just not me).[/colored_box]

So yeah…glad I was finally able to understand it all (most people probably wouldn’t have bothered but what can I say…I’m a girl in constant and perpetual search of answers…for everything…hell anyone trying to spend their entire life in school [whether learning or instructing] has to have a pretty big hard on for knowledge…yes no?) And again congrats on finding a gal that you feel a wonderful connection with (I’m sure she’s a wonderful person) and I’m glad all the pieces are fitting together for you. Who knows maybe one day over coffee you can tell me all about her 🙂

And then a couple of days later.  He facebook defriended me.  *rolls on floor laughing*  Perhaps he saw the first posting of the And the douchie goes to….series and thought that I was calling him a douche (which I was, but in my defense, only tentatively and I also included my self in the category).  Perhaps in the Twitter words of a good friend…

I surmise that he did it mostly b/c he didn’t want ‘her’ to find the blog, thus indicating him as a douche bag – but still: BABY

Perhaps my facebook status updates just simply aren’t as funny as I’d like to imagine.  Maybe my photos scare the likes of small children everywhere and he was just protecting his vision.  Or maybe the whole wanting to be friends thing was BS from the get go.  Perhaps he’s like one of those chicks who drops all her friends the moment she’s gets a boyfriend.  Who knows.  But I do know this.  I had a time.  And Trucker Joe taught me some shit.  Okay well not really him per se.  But through the act of dating him.  I learned some shit.  And at the very least I know I taught him some shit.  Like the fact that lamb is indeed baby sheep.  So at least I’m educating the dating masses.  One “something” at a time.

Oh and just a little bee tee dub for everyone.  Though I was originally never able to find a link connecting Trucker and Joe and I in my notorious Six Degrees of SSDated way (he’s being a decade older, likely accounted for that).  I was able to stumble upon one (though tenuous) when he became oh so “in a relationship”.  Because guess what?  Blah blah and I share a “mutual friend” and it’s a boy no less.  And one I know from plentyoffish no less.  Hmmm 🙂  So there you have it.  Trucker Joe and I in less than six degrees.  LOL.  Oy.


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

And The Douchie Goes To … Me? (Part 2 of 3)

And The Douchie Goes To…

Detour.  I know.  It’s a bit weird to have a detour before we’ve actually gotten on the road with this blog post.  But I digress.  I just wanted to give a quick refresher.  Because with me being back at school.  And having the most insane (read: I’m a baby) flu for the last 2 weeks.  Posting has been a bit sparse (at least by comparison to my summer schedule).  So I know people can forget.  And that’s normal.  I’m not blaming.  And I’m certainly not taking it personal.  Shit.  I mean I can barely remember what happens to me.  So how on earth are you going to.  So here goes.

Things with Trucker Joe had really just.  Kinda well.  Fallen to shit.  We’d had 7 dates.  On the 4th we made out like high school kids.  On the 5th he had ball issues.  But I knew there was more.  By the 7th I had enough balls to ask what was up.  The explanation.  Well.  Failed to impress.  So we became facebook buddies.  And then.  All of sudden.  Via facebook.  Trucker Joe was in a relationship.  With someone who wasn’t me.  Bizarro I know.  At first I thought he was a big douche.  I assumed he had been dating this chick the whole time and instead of being upfront about it had just simply given a bullshit excuse about not being physical with me because (and I quote) “he didn’t love me.”  After less than 2 months of casual dating no less.

But then.  The very next morning.  There came a message.  That would set in motion a series of thoughts.  That would sway my opinion.  Fickle as it was at that moment.  From the douchie going to him.  To the douchie going to me.  How can that be? you ask.  *So I gesture*  Walk with me.  And I’ll show you the path my brain took.  And we’ll figure it all out together.  The message reads:


[colored_box color=”blue”]

Trucker Joe          September 7  at 5:28am

tough questions…. i was attracted to u….. that night u looked sooo good and i was so horny but in the end [SSD] there was just something missing for me…. which i have found in [blah blah], we just connected on so many levels and to b honest it is a little scary but so exciting for me…i only met her a week ago but it feels right for me….well i guess school is bout to go full swing so knock them dead 🙂



So first.  This was AMAZING!  Now try not to judge.  Because even though you might not qualify your life based on making the Hollywood’s Hottest 50 list.  If they actually fucking wanted you on it.  You’d feel damn amazing.  So this is like that.  It’s not that I’d since felt anything less than hot.  But I had never really believed his answer.  About thinking I was attractive but not being attracted to me because of divorce bullshit.  And this.  Was my validation.  He was attracted to me.  I did turn him on.  *high five* I win.

Secondly.  wait.  what?  you still need more time?  you haven’t yet stopped vomiting over the fact that he committed (publicly, on facebook no less) to a chick he’d known after a week?  Okay.  I’ll give you another minute.  But honestly.  I don’t think it’s going to get much better.  I mean this is basically right out of Autumn in New York or some other equally lame romance.  So time isn’t going to change it.  Better we just plow straight ahead.

So after the vomiting stopped.  And I made an attempt not to judge (for reference I’m a realist.  I said attempt I made an attempt not to judge).  And that’s when my thoughts took me to the unluckiness of it all.  I mean seriously.  What are the fucking chances.  That me.  The girl just looking for a summer of fun.  Breezy.  Sexy.  Antonym of intense fun.  Finds the one guy.  Like literally the one guy.  Who needs an intense emotional connection to have sex.  And even more than that.  That I find the one guy who isn’t looking to bang away the pain/anger of his divorce.  I mean seriously.  Come the fuck on bridget!

So here’s the thing of the thing.  I will admit.  I have a character flaw.  *shocker*  Well obviously I have several.  But this one specifically.  I mean.  We all know it.  I’m judgey wudgey was a bear.  Though to redeem myself.  I’m quick to change my mind.  I’m quick to let someone back in who I thought was out.  You get the idea.  But of my judging.  I must admit.  I am hardest.  On guys.  Who reveal.  What I would consider…erhm…um…feminine qualities.  And I won’t go on and on about this.  And it really shouldn’t come as a surprise to any of you readers at least.  I mean fuck.  I’m trying to date Chuck Norris and MMA fighters.  Though I love a physicist.  So when I say feminine.  Honestly.  I mean ridiculously romantic.  And not in a real love kind of way.  In a retarded kind of way.  I’m stopping now because this really is a whole blog post on its own.  But the point is.  I spent a good while.  Just.  Well.  Laughing.  Because honestly.  I found it so hysterical.  The ridiculousness of the thing itself.  And then the hilarity that he would end up dating me.  Of all fucking people.  OBVIOUSLY it wouldn’t work out fool, sheesh.

So the thought process?  Come, let’s walk on.  So there I was all hysterical and happy.  When I start to think.  Hey!?!  I mean what the fuck?  Wasn’t this the same guy who had wanted to keep things breezy (my word obviously)?  Who talked about wanting to date casually? (of which I was a big fan).  I mean what a douche.  Why did he even date me at all.  I clearly expressed from the very first date that I wanted to keep things open.  breezy.  a girl asks you out for Friday night I said you go ahead and accept that date.  And yet here he was.  Looking for a connection.  A deeply emotional connection.  All along.  This guy who attempted to paint himself as fun and carefree.  Wanted a girlfriend?  Was seeking…well whatever you call committing after a week.  What a douche!

But wait.  And here’s where we find ourselves down the garden path.  In the orchard I like to call.  SSD, you’re a douche too under that logic or calling the kettle black.  Because here’s the thing of the thing.  Just as he painted himself as a guy who wanted to date non-exclusively.  I too painted myself as such.  And as such, I did in fact give the impression that there was potential.  For more.  And though I may have said as much on this blog.  And said even more about it to my friends.  I never actually told him, conveyed that thought to him.  There was never a chance.  He would have never lasted past Christmas.  He never had a shot.  There was never a concern.  He wasn’t even in the race.  I mean not really.  So I mean.  I can’t get pissed that he was (see ghetto diagram) acting centre when in fact he was far right because there I was claiming centre and residing far left.

no relationship potential————–casual dating/open to possibility————-(he’s a) crazy chick

So there you have it.  It looks like the douchie really was going to go to…me afterall.

But wait.  It looks.  wait.  does it?  Yep.  It looks like this path we’re walking on.  It doesn’t quite end here.  Look how it winds through that orchard but carries on.  There’s still enough light out.  Surely we should keep walking, yes no?

To Be Continued….

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

And The Douchie Goes To … Him? (Part 1 of 3)

Dating Mistakes


And The Douchie Goes To….


[colored_box color=”red”]Was it him?  Was it me?  Had we both been douchebags?  Or maybe neither of us?  Perhaps simply a case of life running it’s course? [/colored_box]

I really didn’t know.  But I will admit.  When I first saw it.  When I first saw the update.  My immediate reaction was I fucking knew it!  Turns out I didn’t exactly know (the details) but well I sort of knew (the logic).  I knew it wasn’t me.  I knew I was fucking hot.  I knew I was a babe.  I knew a divorced guy wasn’t turning me down because of a lack of attraction.  I mean fuck that noise.  Just sayin’.  And I’m sorry because I’m getting ahead of myself here.  Because I still haven’t told you what happened.  So let’s go back to the beginning (of this section of the story).

So it had been one week since I’d facebook messaged asked Trucker Joe about the kissing.  As in, why had there been any in the first place if he wasn’t attracted to me due to blah blah blah divorce noise whatever?  And there I was just randomly killing time and checking out my facebook news feed.  When I see it.

Trucker Joe is in a relationship with Blah Blah

My immediate reaction was this is fuckin’ amazing!  And I’ll tell you why.  First just because it’s so freakin’ dramatic that I’m like YES!!! blog post.  Second because I feel my hotness question has been vindicated (as in, it’s not that he wasn’t attracted to me it’s that he became serious with another chick – which thus has nothing to do with me).  And thirdly, well frankly that’s mostly it.  It’s just so friggin’ priceless ya know?  And I know many of you are thinking why isn’t she hurt or upset by this and honestly I feel like that requires it’s own blogpost (which will follow this 3 parter).  So for now.  Just believe me.  If you don’t get it already.  You will after.  So just go with it for now.

At first I do nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  Well.  On facebook I mean.  Because I’ve been known to act rashly (ex: the immediate unfollowing, blocking and total disengaging from Twitter Guy).  Which sometimes is the right choice.  But other times hasn’t been.  So I call TheHell.  We talk.  We laugh.  I tell her I’m thinking of clicking “Like”.  She says do it.  But I’m yet convinced.  I wouldn’t want to come off as Bitter Betty or Angry Angie.  We all know I hate those bitches.  So I confer with another associate.  She too thinks it would be hilarious.  But I wait.  I think.  Because I really don’t want to be Rash Regina.  And then it comes to me.  Um.  Who the fuck cares?  It’s funny.  So I “Like”d it.  Because afterall.  I did like it.  I thought it was amazing.  Awesome sauce.  Amazing.

At first.  But then I started to think.  Damn.  I know it was my decision to not bother with any of the plenty of losers fishers who had messaged me in say the last 3 weeks of summer.  But still.  I would have likely given them more of a shot if I had known the truth about this chick back then.  Who, by the way *foreshadowing*, at this moment I figure he’s been dating probably about as long as me and likely was getting serious back around the time of our 5th date.  When he had a case of foul balls, and if you remember correctly (or simply click the link and see) was what I had suspected was the big secret he had to tell me.  So with that in mind.  I get a little pissed.  And that’s when I first start thinking.  And the Douchie Goes To…Him.  Because the lying makes him an asshole.  The idiocy of it makes him a douche.  Because we all know I would have a. been fine with it and b. had he told me, he could probably have kept me in the stable pending it didn’t work out with blah blah.  Just Sayin’.

And before I give the good ol’ To Be Continued… I leave you with this.  The title of the next post is…And The Douchie Goes To…Me (Part 2 of 3).  Just Sayin’.

To Be Continued…

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

Facebooking My Ass Off, Or the End of an Era


[dropcap]It started[/dropcap] with Trucker Joe.  He wanted to see the blog.  We were going to be buddies.  But then it sort of.  Just didn’t stop.  You could say it was kind of like a snowball.  A carefully thought out snowball.  Wait.  What?  Is this another analogy I’m not getting quite right?  So not like a snowball at all really.  More like a dam.  A dam bursting.  Yeah that’s a better.  So anyway my Facebook burst didn’t end with Trucker Joe.  Because a few days after adding him.  I took a bit of a leap.  And added.  Intelligence Officer.

And I kind of figured it was no big deal.  I mean.  I wasn’t even risking anything.  Because we’re not dating.  In fact we’ve barely had more than a text exchange since our barracks bumpin’ (fix links).  So what was there to lose?  And again.  I write this blog.  So I know what I’ve said about him.  And frankly.  It speaks more like a raving resume than anything else.  A tally of his talents.  A chart of his characteristics.  An abacus of his abilities.  And all are positive.  And I know what you’re thinking.  If you haven’t had much contact with him since your rendezvous and it’s unlikely for there to be any in the near future, why do you even want him on your facebook?  And oddly enough.  It’s not for stalking.  Because the thing of the thing is.  I actually think he’s pretty fuckin’ funny.  We have a similar sense of humor.  He’s a little more angry and bitter about life.  But regardless.  We’re dry.  We’re sarcastic.  We’re witty.  And I like the things he says.  So that’s mostly why.  The other.  I’m hoping he’ll drool over my new 40lbs lighter pics?  Maybe.  I’m hoping he’ll see how hilarious I am?  Likely.  Mostly it’s just the laughter.  Maybe he says something and I comment.  Maybe I say something funny and he comments.  Maybe one of us has a winfall and comes into a place.  Like to stay.  And by stay.  I mean bang like bunnies.  And assuming the other party is interested.  Then it’s all gravy.  Yeah you heard me.  I said all gravy.  Don’t judge.

So you probably think this post is going to end there.  Like I somehow plugged up that dam real good.  Like a beaver.  I am Canadian afterall.  But nope.  That’s not how this tale goes.  So as I hit the last couple of days of my time on POF I received a message from a boy.  The message was uniform.  But I generally don’t judge by that.  I’m okay with boring.  In the first message.  So I read his profile.  And under first date:  It suggested we dress up like bees, go to the park and sting people.  Now certainly I don’t think he is the first person to say/think/write this.  But I thought it was pretty fuckin’ cute/funny nonetheless.  And we carried on a banter.  But alas.  It was time for me to depart POF.  So I did something I never do.  I suggested we carry this on.  On Facebook.  *gasp*  I know.  But once a dam breaks.  There’s really no stopping it.

So added he got.  But that’s not the end of the facebook insanity.  Because I still saw a potential for dating.  I kept my wall blocked from him.  Sure he could peruse the photos.  But see me posting about the blog and boys and the gym etc.?  Nope.  No access to that.  And the thing is.  He wasn’t alone.  Because there is another boy.  Not yet a something.  But not nothing.  A boy I shall call.  The Time Bandit (to be discussed further at a later date).

So that’s 4.  For those of you keeping track.  From 0 to 4 in a heartbeat.  Tossing the datey-no-facebookey rule out the window.  Just like that *tosses rule book out window* *shrug* no biggie.  I mean just look at me.  Facebooking my ass off.  And it really is the end of an era.  Because it comes right at the end.  The end of The Boys of Summer (fix links).  My summer gone wild.  The era of “Somethings“.  And what’s going to happen with them.  Maybe nothing.  Maybe good things.  Maybe bad things.  But the dam broke.  And I’m okay with it.

For now.


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

Trucker Joe: My Golden Egg is Rotten

Dating Mistakes
[dropcap]So the truth is[/dropcap] I was disappointed with how things with Trucker Joe turned out.  I mean not completely.  Not totally.  But there was definitely some disappointment.  I mean.  It was kind of like working on a project.  Putting in time and effort.  And then your boss tells you that the promotion you were doing all this hard-work for.  Is not a possibility.  But he says.  They’re looking for a new guy down in human resources and I think you’d be perfect for the job.  So I mean.  It’s not the end of the world.  It’s not even really that big of a deal.  But it’s a disappointment.  Because it wasn’t what you were expecting.

So what had I been expecting?

And I should preface this by saying.  It’s not like I’d been sitting around.  All these last few weeks.  Chin resting in palm.  Elbow resting on knee.  Eyes a-glaze with girlish naiveté and relationship anticipation.  Boy please.  We all know that’s not who I am.  But I did have some hopes.  Some expectations.

It’s not a big deal though.  But I am disappointed I say, on the phone to my big bro.  But I had kind of been hoping that…ya know…he would be my Golden Egg.  To which he responded.  A guy to buy you shit you mean?  And that’s when I realized it.  I had my analogies all mixed up.  Because that’s not at all what I meant.  No I said surprised.  Honestly the thought hadn’t occurred to me.  I mean.  I’m all for a guy buying my coffee.  Since I just spent $45 getting a pedi (among numerous other things).  But a sugardaddy.  I wish lol.  So No I say.  Not that at all.  So what then? he asks.  Uh…something I wouldn’t want to talk about with my brother I say.  And we move on to other topics.

A conversation with TheHel goes the same way.  Except that I can say what I really mean.  Though really.  She already knows.  Because if anything.  While I’ve become less sexually outspoken about boys these days.  TheHel is ready to pick up the slack on my behalf.  In fact.  Recently.  When asking her hubs to ask a friend of his what he thinks of SSD, like does he think she’s cute?  To which his response is something along the lines of how his friend just got out of a relationship and she quickly quips She’s not looking for a soulmate…just someone to stick the dick in her.  Though the truth is.  Really.  I was just kind of thinking me and him could have some fun with TheHel and the hubs.  You know.  Play some Mario Party. Smoke some weed.  And just see what happens.  Maybe we just laugh.  Maybe we makeout a bit.  Whatevs.

But I digress.  Back to what I was expecting.  What I was hoping for.  Honestly.  (and I promised TheHel I would include this actual statement *as said in real life* that in fact).  I was hoping for someone to stick it to me…at least until Christmas break.  And as much as that statement is true.  A garaunteed lay does wonders for your ability to focus on school.  Just Sayin’.  What I was honestly most disappointed about.  Was the other stuff.  The taking it slow stuff.  Because there’s a lot to be said for taking it slow.

Detour.  See.  It’s not that I wanted a booty call.  Because honestly.  The opportunities for that are there.  I mean they’re not good opportunities.  Like Lindsay’s Law.  He called the next day.  Apologized for being a douche.  Tried to make it up.  Told me I was awesome (yeah…I know…douche).  Asked me out again.  But he’s got several factors working against him (small dick, bad…for lack of a better word…lover, sloppy).  The thing is.  Even if Lindsay’s Law hadn’t had like the smallest not-quite-hard dick known to man.  I still wouldn’t be calling him.  Okay well it would put him higher on the stable list.  But I’m guessing it’d be November before I called.  But you can’t hope a small dick big.  So there ya go.  But the point is.  Even if he had one.  I’m not excited.  Because he was sloppy.  And fast.  Too fast.  Not fun.  Too sloppy.  Not fun.  He was like a puppy.  A wet puppy shaking off his fur and getting you all messy.  And though you’re like.  Okay puppy means well.  Honestly you’re like.  Motherfucker!  He was like a kid.  And I kind of figured it out.  Because I get that saying.  Women are in their sexual prime in their 30s.  And I’m 2 weeks till my 29th birthday and it sounds about right.  I know what I want now.  I know what I like.  How to get it.  What to do.  I’m all over it.  Sure there’s always room for learning and experimenting.  But the point is.  I only just figured this shit out.  So Lindsay’s Law.  At 26.  And he’s probably used to dating.  What?  Probably like 22 year olds.  Who don’t know shit yet?  So how are they going to teach him right?  He’s got no chance.

Back on Track.  So like I was saying.  I was disappointed.  I was disappointed there wouldn’t be making out on couches in my future.  There wouldn’t be a first time in the back of a pickup while camping in the woods.  There wouldn’t be first bases.  Second bases.  Third bases.  And home runs.  There wouldn’t be.  Red Lacies on a bedroom floor.  There wouldn’t be.  Well.  Frankly.  Repeatable sex with a white guy.  Something I’ve never had.  For Reference.  Made out with a white guy more than once?  Yes.  Slept with white guys?  A few.  Not many.  Slept with a white guy more than once?  Nope.  Seriously?  Yep.  Totally serious.  But mostly.  To sum it all up.  Completely.  I was disappointed.  Because it all feels a bit foolish now.  Like although I am still pleased with the writing in Tuesday.  Hot.  Sticky.  Delicious.  I feel a bit like a moron.  Like a tool.  Especially when I reread.  This part.

He likes me. He respects me. I feel it in his touch. I taste it in his mouth. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest. I. want. you you. I. want. you you. I. want. you you.

Because now I’m like.  Aww shit.  *palm to forehead*  He was probably thinking…

Get.  Off.  me bitch.  Get.  Off.  me bitch.  Get.  Off.  me bitch.  (okay so I’m kinda joking with this one)


Please.  Be.  attracted.  Please.  Become.  attracted.  Please.  Be.  attracted.


This.  Is.  bor-ing.  This.  Is.  bor-ing.  This.  Is.  bor-ing.

Or whatever other possibilities there are.  But either way.  He was not thinking.  God you’re sexy.  I want your lady bits.  I.  want.  you you.  I.  want.  you you.

So this analogy.  I finally figured it out.  While out coffee with a friend.  I hadn’t meant that I had hoped he was my Golden Egg.  I had hoped that he was my Golden Goose.  The analogy works with both examples.  Example 1  Example 2.  In example one the Golden Goose leads to a smiling princess.  In example two the goose lays golden eggs (till they kill it but that part isn’t necessary).  But the point is.  Trucker Joe.  Turns out.  Neither.  At least.  Not in the way I was hoping.  And part is me is totally fine with that.  Truth be told the biggest part of me is fine with it.

The other part.  Is a bit pissed.  No lie.  But is it really Trucker Joe’s fault?  That I’m not so sure.  The thing is.  I’ve spent basically the last two months dating him.  Every week.  Every week like clockwork.  He asks.  And we go out.  Now I’ve been free to date other boys during this time.  And I have.  But the thing is.  I’ve been pickier (not always a bad thing).  More dismissive of other boys.  My blocked list on POF is easily 75 boys deep.  No joke.  And while not my prince charmings.  Perhaps there were a couple boys in there.  Who had Golden Goose potential.  Potential to be not retarded and the ability to stick it to me in a manner I deem fit until Christmas break.  Now sure enough.  I’m likely to blame.  But I can’t help but thinking.  I sure do wish Trucker Joe had just told me this ages ago.  Instead of making me wring it out of him after suffering date after date of confusion.  And I know I said only moments ago that a part of me was pissed.  But I’m not even sure pissed is the right word.  Because I’m not really angry.  It’s just kind of like.  That sucks.  *shrugs*

And the final part of the disappointment.  Is the confusion.  That accompanies it.  Because here’s the thing of the thing.  I get it.  If you don’t like my personality.  And thus don’t want to spend time with me.  And I get it if you don’t think I’m attractive.  And thus never want to get physical with me.  I even get it if I’m just your jump off or booty call or whatever so that you find me sexually attractive but are not marking the territorial limits around me for whatever reason.  But what I don’t get.  Is the making out?  Is the making out and me being the one to be like…slow that down.  Is the move making by Him?  I don’t understand what happened there.  And so I asked him.  Via facebook.

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 🙂

And we’ll just have to see.  There might be answers forthcoming.  There might be none.  There’s always the possibility of no response at all.  We’ll see.  But afterall.  What have I got to lose?  Because while school is on.  I can justify throwing on some makeup and doing my hair.  Getting a pedi and shaving my legs.  For a quick romp in the hay.  For a friend.  For a friend that I wouldn’t feel comfortable being in my jogging pants, hoodie, and built in bra shirt, hair up in an ugly knob thing and no makeup in sight.  That’s a whole other story.  Though technically.  When leaving.  That last night with him.  I joked.  That he would be getting the comfortable bras in his future.  So who knows.


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

Answers in Dating Trilogy: Friendship and For Reference

Head Desk

[dropcap]So,[/dropcap]  I had just blurted it outI have a blog…which you’re in obviously.  And you know me.  Go hard or go home right?  So while trying to explain to him how to find the blog and all that.  I just added.  No worries.  I’ll just facebook you.  Like no biggie.  Just like that.  No biggie.  I’ll facebook you.  And he seemed pretty cool with it all.  Seemed pretty relaxed to hear that I had been writing about him this whole time.

And don’t think I just threw this info out there.  Without a thought.  I mean.  I’ve written the blog.  I know what I’ve said about him.  And I know that he comes off well.  I told him this.  I knew it would be okay for him to read it.  If he wanted to.  Honestly.  I wasn’t that sure he’d even be interested.  And to be real.  To be quite honest.  I think the whole thing was a bit of a knee-jerk reaction.  Me telling him I mean.  Like flipping a switch.  And I can see him. Like on the end of a little crane.  Getting picked up.  Right out of that swoony.  Dating.  Lusty.  Boy category.  And shuffled over.  To that friend.  Category.  Only.  It’s weird.  Because.  Well.  I don’t have male friends.

But back to the scene of this event.  Back to me and him.  Sitting on the couch.  At his place.  Cards on the table.  And we talk.  About his ex.  About Mega Love.  He asks if I went to see Mega Love when I went shopping in Seattle.  I tell him yes.  I tell him I also saw him in July.  Before that.  We talk about dates.  The dates I’ve been on since meeting him (not in detail…just that I’ve had them).  He tells me he’s had none.  We talk about breakups.  He thinks that Mega Love and I might not really be completely broken up.  Because we keep seeing each other.  We talk about boys.  Honestly it’s all a bit of a blur.  I was actually pretty excited to be able to talk about this stuff.  To tell him about my blog.  It was all pretty fun.  Any disappointment I feel *spoiler alert* wouldn’t sink in for a few days.  But basically the important stuff.  Like how awesome he thought I was.  And how much he enjoyed hanging out with me.  That came across.

At one point.  I couldn’t stop myself though.  I said something.  Likely.  Pretty douchey.  But I was joking.  Mostly.  (try to remember I’m a on a starving student budget).  And as I walked into the kitchen for a glass of water I said So…does this mean I’m going to have to start paying for stuff *giggles*.  And no lie.  Trucker Joe hit it out of the park.  No he says friends do that stuff too.  And at the time I was thinking…not so much.  But it’s true.  We do.  TheHell was having a rough day today.  So I brought her Starbucks.  Another friend was having moola issues a couple days ago.  So I picked up the tab at Sushi.  So he was right in that sense.

Eventually it was time for the night to end.  Afterall.  No reason for everybody not to get a good night’s rest.  With no sex or shenanigans on the horizon.  And as we were walking to the door.  I made a comment about.  Could you imagine me as a ProfessorEspecially now? (As in, how awesome would that be).  And he said something about me becoming famous long before that…for writing a column in a newspaper or something (and this was just from our conversations…he hadn’t read the blog yet).  And then he walked me to my car.  And we were both all smiles.  Like who knew.  Dating turned friending might just work out awesome afterall.

As we hugged goodbye.  I said.  So I guess just gimme a call if you want to hang out.  To which he responded Oh…I’ll definitely be harassing you to hang out.  And that was it.  I drove home.  Still all smiles.  I wasn’t faking.  I was actually really excited.  I mean sure.  It’s always an ego hit when someone isn’t attracted to you.  I mean shit.  Even though logic tells me it would have nothing to do with me.  If a guy I was dating was suddenly like.  I’m gay.  I’d still be a little.  aw…you mean I wasn’t hot enough to turn you straight?  Which for reference I know is ridiculous being that I think people are born gay so it’s not even an option.  But I’m just saying.  Sometimes things are irrational.  Just the way it is.  And I could be fine with that.

So the night ended.  With a smile on my face.  A Friendship on the horizon.  And a person to add on Facebook.  And it’s a week later now.  And I still have a bit more to say on the subject.  Like what happened with me.  Like what happened with me and him.  In that week that’s passed.  But that’s a whole other post.  Coming soon.  But for today.  I have to say this.

I feel a bit.  As though I may have let you down.  My readers.  My dear, dear readers.  Because For Reference. These are not the posts I wanted to write. For Reference.  I wanted to tell you about kissing. That makes my knees weak. Laughter that carries across lakes. Giving it up in the back of a pickup truck like a hicktown babe or a city girl gone summer vacay. For Reference.  I want to insinuate the passion between sheets. Electricity between fingertips. I want to tell you how a boy’s soft tongue tastes in my memory the day after. I want you to swoon with me. Let’s talk magic. Let’s talk romance. But romance in that summer fling kinda way. Without all that heavy for the rest of our lives is-he-the-one bullshit. I want to regale you with a tale of romance the way I want it told. From the mind of a 28 year old working her body like an 18 year old full of lust and freedom in the heart of a 14 year old who doesn’t yet know better.  Only knowing better.  I didn’t need it to be perfect. I wasn’t trying on slippers. No one was looking for that perfect fit. But for a moment.  For this one moment. This. Very. Moment. Right here. Right now. I didn’t want hilarity. And you almost never hear me say that. I just wanted. A summer romance. But here we are. And summer is almost over.  And I’ve got no summer romance.  No silky legs sliding about on silky sheets.  No soft lips to brush mine up against.  No hand on my ass.  Marking some territory.  If only for one night.  One date.  One summer romance.  For Reference.  I’ll make it up to you.



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

Answers in Dating Trilogy: Definitions and Definitelys

Dating Mistakes
[dropcap]So [/dropcap]  when I last left you.  We were discussing the size of my Chuck Norris balls.  Or something like that.  Basically we were at the point where I had finally asked Trucker Joe what the fucking deal was.  But hadn’t yet gotten to any actual answers.
So there I was.  Balls out.  Asking.  So.  Seriously.  Are you attracted to me?  He made some kind of noise to indicate obviously.  Said something to back this insinuation up.  But I wasn’t falling for it again.  I mean shit.  He’d already said yes he was attracted to me.  And we’d already made out like teenagers.  In such a good way.  What I had thought.  Was.  Tuesday.  Hot.  Sticky.  Delicious.  But they say.  (they being the experts obviously.)  They say.  To listen to what a guy tells you.  To take them at their word.  And that’s when it occurs to me.  Maybe the words are the problem.

So I ask.  I clarify.  I mean.  There’s a difference I say.  Between thinking I’m attractive and being attracted to me.  Lightbulb moment.  He looks relieved.  Likes that’s it.  Finally got it all figured out.  And I’m thinking.  Fuck.  Me.  He’s not attracted to me?  What.  The.  Fuck.  Obviously I don’t say this.  Because I’m Nonchalant Nancy.  I’m Okay-with-everything Odette.  Everything is always Breezy with Betty.  At the time we kind of just carry on.  Like okay.  We’ve established the correct definitions for these words attractive and attracted to.  So it all makes sense now.  Only.  Wait.  Didn’t we make out like two dates ago?  So obviously we’re not totally at the root of the issue.

So I’m balls to the wall again..  I just opened my mouth and asked. What. Is the deal? And his response was…

Okay wait. Detour. I don’t know why I always feel the need to protect some of the “somethings” but I do.  And this is another example.  Because what he said.  Well.  Not super suave.  Not super on point.  Kind of a little.  Er.  Um.  Weird.  But I know why he said it.  The point was more about the feelings.  Than the words he used.  So while I know this all about to break your little precious hearts.  The hearts that swooned with me when he and I had our big makeout sesh.  Try not to be too hard on him.  Because as you’ll see soon enough.  It might hurt his feelings.  So like I was saying.  His response was.  Something along the line of.  Er…um…I don’t love you.  And my ego.  Is obliterated.

Only.  Wait.  What?  I mean.  Wait huh?  Like obviously he doesn’t love me.  I mean.  I sure as fuck don’t love him.  Truth be told I barely know if I like him.  I mean.  Shit.  We barely know each other.  Like come the fuck on bridget!  And while I sit there trying to look like Nonchalant Nancy on the outside.  While I’m confused and frustrated Carly-Francine on the inside.  He continues.  Tries to explain it.  And I won’t really get into it.  Mostly because it’s been a week now as I write this.  And it’s all I can do to remember the gist and order of the conversation.  Let alone the actual words.  Though the I don’t love you was pretty easy to recall lol.  But the gist of it is this.  He was married.  For a good while.  It did not end well.  He is not over it.  Sure he’s not in love anymore.  But that’s peanuts.  That’s nothing compared to all the other shit that happens when things go south in a relationship.  And sure it’s been a year.  Since they ended things.  But it’s not like he spent the year healing.  It was an angry year.  Honestly I still think it is a bit.  He needs time.  And honestly.  Some counselling might help.  I mean shit.  I talked to someone after Mega Love and I split.  Back in October.  When I needed to be focused on school and not him.  I still remember describing my feelings as big angry red hands (possibly around his neck lol!).  And I mean honestly.  We were a pretty amicable split by comparison.  And look at me now.  Life is peachy.  Just Sayin’.

So I think I’m getting a bit off topic here.  Because what’s important isn’t really his plan of action.  How he’s going to get his shit handled.  So I should say.  I was actually taking this pretty well.  I mean hearing that someone isn’t attracted to you.  That the guy you’ve been dating.  Or thought you’ve been dating.  Have we been friending?  Suddenly pulls a quick bait and switch.  Suddenly there is no sex is your future.  At least not with him.  I mean that’s kind of sucky news.  And I was all smiles.  Like no big thing.  I’m breezy, remember?  Everything is light and carefree.  Peachy.  Relaxed.  Calm.

So we talk for awhile.  I get to find out all kinds of fun things.  Like whether or not I look like my pictures (something I would never normally ask).  Good.  You look better than most of your pictures.  Except that one with the aqua jacket and teal background.  (which I didn’t clarify but I hope he meant I look exactly like and not that I look worse lol).  Hubba Hubba he says.  He has noticed how much weight I’ve lost just since meeting him.  Which was something I’d been wondering.  Like was it noticeable.  Did he notice?

But even with all this chatter.  Which is fun.  I’m wondering.  Like.  If you’re not attracted to me.  If everytime you see the curve of my hip and the crease of my cleave you’re not thinking of all the saucy things you want to do to me.  Why have we been hanging out this much.  Like 7 dates.  Seriously?  But wait.  Because.  Didn’t he once say.  Specifically.  That there were all kinds of things he wanted to do to me…er…um…with me.  And I guess.  It seems.  Like he just thinks I’m awesome.  And best guess.  Doesn’t want to lose me as a friend.  So like.  Are we friends then?  Like is that what we’re doing?

And within moments.  I take us from definitions to definitelys.  Because I’m like that.  I compartmentalize.  And if you no longer fit in the boy-I’m-dating box.  I guess I have to shuffle you on over to that friend side.  Which bee tee dub.  Is occupied solely by chicks.  But we’ll talk more about this later.  And I know what you’re thinking.  Just because he’s a friend now…but I’ll stop you right there.  Because we can’t go back from here.  I blurted too quickly.  Or maybe not.  But either way.  This is the path we’re on.  The friendship path.  And the dating path has been closed for renovations.  I mean really.  More like demolitions.

So…I’m not sure if I should tell you.  But.  Er.  Um.  I guess since we’re friends now.  So…I have this blog.

And that was it folks.  Definite.  Cannot go back.  The moment that all rules went out the window.  The never-tell-them-about-the-blog rule.  The datey-no-facebookey rule.  All the rules.  Right out the window.  Which is fine.  I guess.  I think.  Maybe.  I mean we’ll see.  But we definitely can’t go back now.  And so I sat there.  And looked at his face.  And waited.  To see his reaction.  To this news.  That he was a celebrity.  When it came to being a “something” which I had dated.

To Be Continued…



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