[dropcap]W[/dropcap]hat happens when you give someone a second chance? For me, it usually ends in regret. I think we all see where this story is going…or do we?
The message reads something ordinary but I respond because the height on his profile reads something tall and deliciously 6’4. He responds back with a more in-depth description of himself. It seems all too familiar. I know this profile. It’s a different picture but I know this guy. Only not really. Because you see, we never actually met.
He first messaged back in 2009. Before this blog was a thing. He got my number, he even made plans. But somehow he always managed to drop the ball. Given that it was about 2.5 years ago I can’t remember exactly what his deal was but I do know this, he was a time waster. He was that kind of person that said things like let’s hang out tonight but wouldn’t specify a time and me being the
naive nice person that I am, I would assume that meant we were hanging out. But for assholes boys it often has a different meaning, I gather. And maybe it just never worked out because he meant well but was just basically a moron. Or maybe he was purposely wasting my time. Maybe it was a bird seed thing, an asshole thing, a stupid thing. Didn’t really matter. It was a thing that was happening and I wasn’t interested. I told him to lose my number. He did.
But he came back in 2010. And this time I asked him what his fucking deal was. Only, not specifically enough. You see looking back now I should’ve asked in more detail about why the dude couldn’t fucking plan to save his life, or why planning wasn’t his thing, and knowing that it was mine, why on earth he’d want to hang out with me.
Pussy is the answer by the way. I should’ve asked him all this. Instead I asked what had changed. He gave some bullshit response about having grown up. I wasn’t impressed. Truth was, I was busy exploring my relatively new interest in white guys and not interested in kicking it with him. But I asked him anyway, for the reason anyone asks anything ever, because I wanted to know. I’m weird like that.
I’m fairly certain he came back at least one more time in 2011 but as I don’t have facts (read: I didn’t find it interesting enough to write a post about and thus can’t reference it now), I can’t hardly ramble on and on about it.
That being said. Third time’s a charm??? I mean, here I am, a mere few weeks away from Montreal and I’m trying to live it up. I’ve barely dated in this last year what with working so hard at school and studying for the GRE and grad apps and blah blah blah and dammit, I kind of wanted to make up for it this summer. Additionally, as much as I lament my experience with dating in Vancouver, the truth is I fucking love this place. Sure it has it’s ups and downs and yes I want to see the rest of the world and live in as many places as possible but this is my home, it will likely always be my home and I love it dearly, flaws and all (frankly it’s my love of this place that causes me to even engage in the whole “Vancouver Dating Scene” chatters because if I didn’t care, if I wasn’t interested in trying to help it change, I wouldn’t bother saying anything). Honestly, the idea of leaving Vancouver with a bad taste in my mouth from a year of non-existent or shitty dating is not how I want to go. I wanted to do some
onething fun before leaving. Because what better way to leave Vancouver than swooning over a summer of torrid temptations and sultry sexcapades?
So when Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome, Mr. Atlanta, Mr. Basketball, Mr. Come Back Charlie himself messaged me again, well can you really blame me for wanting to give him a try?
Vancouver Dating Blog: Dating Vancouver a Better Place, One “Something” at a Time
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