What's new and exciting with you?

I am going to start avoiding public places where I run the risk of running into old family friends, simply so I can avoid the question “what’s new with you, married, kids?”

I am 24, and not a, I got my shit together 24, more of a, oh she is still finding herself, 24. I specialized in booze and shopping for the greater part of my early 20’s, I had little to no desire to make it to my 8 am lecture in college because I had been up till 4 in the morning partying. I had no desire to marry the catastrophically wrong guy for me in my early 20’s, I understood birth control so there wasn’t a surprise baby and I wasn’t in a rush to find a unsatisfying career that would result in me waking up at 40 with a job I hate because society deemed it necessary that I picked a career path at 18.

 Am I in a better place because of those choice? No, I am not, just a different place, I live in my parents basement, spend my Friday nights hoping a guy just as catastrophically wrong for me shows me some kind of interest, and I can sing every word to every Taylor Swift song...and I have choreographed dances to the majority of them.

Still, I feel like just assuming that because most of my peers have had some kind of accomplishment in their lives it is not okay to assume that all of us have. So asking the question “what’s new” is totally acceptable, assuming that I have made some great accomplishment by 24, like making a human being with my genitals, is not an okay postscript to the question what’s new. When I ask you, older family friend lady, what’s new with you, I don’t end the sentence with “how was menopause, those hot flashes are a bitch eh?” You know why I don’t ask that, because it’s fucking rude and I do have a small amount of couth.

29, this is the appropriate age where it’s alright to ask those questions, are you married , do you have kids, until then you just ask me how I am doing and I will reply with some kind of societal mainstream response. Chances are if I have spend a massive amount of money on one day, I will tell you, the chances are even higher, if I’ve made a human being, I will tell you.

 You may be asking yourself why 29? To you I say, thank you for indulging me and letting me continue on this rant.

29, that is the average age women of Canada get married. So, if at 29 you feel the need to ask me if I am married, I will accept it and probably still reply with the same answer I did last night, “HA! I can barely get a second date from a guy, baby steps.” Which, in case you were wondering, is not a funny response and tends to lean to more awkward.

29 also happened to be the average age women choose to bare children, not 24. You know what average is for 24 year olds, having 510 friends on Facebook, and I am close to that, so I feel a small sense of normalcy and accomplishment.

Words of encouragement from couples to us singles

Ah the joys of being single, it seems everyone has advice for us poor single beings. You would almost guess that a couples favourite pass time is to give us single folk’s words of encouragement. Couples are the poster holders in the marathon of love.

 Most of my friends are in relationships and it’s like they just itch to find that other couple friend that can spend their nights going for dinners, discussing books, new TV series they are watching as a couple, the things couple do now that their days of beers and wild sex are over.

So as the token single girl of my group I get countless offerings of encouragement and hope, these are my favourite

1. Don’t worry, there is so many fish in the sea – I want to know when this became the token thing to say to a single person? Don't ever bring up a sea or how there is a bountiful amount of fish, unless we are snorkeling, in that case carry on
2. You are so great/pretty/funny/random adjective, how are you single? – Thanks grandma still trying to figure that out
3. Maybe you should lower your standards – I don’t think I even have standards anymore, I just pray they don’t shit themselves on the first date now and even that has happened to me and I still went out on a second date with him
4. Have you tried on-line dating? – yes...sadly blazinpussygod420 didn’t meet my ridiculously high standards
5. You’ll meet someone when you least expect it – You know the only time I don’t expect to meet someone...when I am pooping...in a bathroom. Other than that I am always expecting it. Like a dating ninja
6. You have to love yourself before someone can love you – Do you love yourself? No one loves themselves; we are programmed to hate ourselves, it’s in our nature as women, unless you are Beyonce.
7. I’m going to set you up with *insert male name here!* He is absolutely perfect for you – if you’ve ever been set up you know that they are never perfect, there is always a fatal flaw.
8. You won’t ever meet someone at a bar -.Good I go to the bar to drunk and laid, not meet prince charming
9. I’m jealous you are single you must have so much fun, sometimes I miss being single – Right, cause not getting laid is totally awesome! Hey at least I don’t have to shave my legs
10. Maybe if you got out more you could meet someone – Have you been out? It scary. I like to keep my going out options minimal for this exact reason
11. There’s a guy out there for you, don’t stop looking – I thought I was suppose to stop looking so I wouldn’t expect it. Just admit it, you know nothing.

See, it seems like everyone in a relationship has some sort of advice to offer, maybe they feel sorry for us? Maybe they just don’t know what to say to us? Maybe being single is like a disease, I’m not really sure, but regardless none of us want your advice. But bless your heart.

I miss you...r vagina

You may recall that I’ve previously mentioned that I stopped really dating, if you can call what I’ve been doing the last 6 months dating. I am not desperate enough to resort to on-line dating and the bitterness Melvin left me towards men does not make me an ideal candidate for men, which leads to most of my weeknights spent at the gym and then watching Netflix and becoming consumed in fictional characters love lives. The closest thing I have to a healthy relationship right now is me cursing the stair master everyday then saying sorry when my pants aren’t as tight the next week.  

 Lately though  my Thursday nights have started to get a little more exciting, the last three Thursday’s, starting around 9:30 the drunk texts start to pour through from men I’ve left in my past. I think it is a testament to my taste in men that for the last three weeks in a row I get drunken texts sent on a Thursday night. They generally follow the same pattern, it starts with a hey with one too many “y’s” followed by a “what are you doing baby” and finishes with an “I miss you.”

Let me decode this for you, anytime there is an extra y in any text, it means hi, I am drunk, any time there is a, what are you doing, from a random man that you've slepted with, it means come over and sleep with me, any time they say “I miss you” it means porn and lube just aren’t going to cut it tonight maybe I can trick her into sleeping with me. Men, this is about as sneaky as asking a girl to come over and watch a movie. You don’t miss us, you don’t really care what we are doing or what’s new with our lives, you are just drunk and horny and sending out a text to anything with two legs and a heartbeat, vagina optional at this point.

I get drunken texting, I could write a short story with the embarrassing drunken texts I’ve sent through the years but I save them for weekends you know why, because at 11 at night, when I am consumed with Vampire Diaries, telling me you miss me does not make me want to hop in my car and come over, it makes me want to punch you in the face. Also, I am probably sitting at home in an over sized old t-shirt, dirty sweat pants, unshaven legs, zero make up and red eyes from crying over the fictional characters love lives. You don’t want that girl to come over, hell even the ugly girl at the bar by herself is a better option than me at that point, maybe she shaved her leg, go bug her.

Sweat baby sweat

Sunday morning I woke up to a text reminding me that I had a date later in the afternoon. A hiking date, which in theory sounds cute, awe, we will hike out down to the river and it will be all so cute and romantic. In my head this is excellent, something picture perfect and out of a movie and we know how much I love anything that reminds me of a romantic movie scene. Also I thought this would be a good way to get over Melvin, who recently entered and exited my life for the millionth time in 6 months, I’ve seriously developed an eye twitch from the stress that man causes me.

So I wake up kind of pumped for my hiking date, until I realize I do not have a hiking outfit and the more concerning fact, I have never really gone hiking.  Once when I was 12, but uh, I was a hefty 12 year old and it was probably a traumatic experience because it involved moving so I never really did it again. Also after a conversation with Dana, she informs me that fake eye lashes are not accepted when you go on a hiking date and I probably shouldn’t waste my time curling my hair. I am in panic mode; usually I like to ease guys into the process of seeing “natural” Justine. I like to charm them with my amazing personality so when I go from Beyonce to Susan Boyle it’s not as big of deal, because they are swooned with my sense of humor and loveliness.

So I go on this date, without hair extensions or falsies and it is at this time that I decided that I am more of a mini golf, dinner and drinks kind of date. Why you ask? Because let me tell you the main difference between movies and real life. Sweat. That’s it. You don’t get romantic moments when the two of you are so sweaty from the sun beating down on you and you are crawling over shrubs like it’s the Hunger Games.  There isn’t a sexy way to unpeel your shirt from your back, there isn’t a romantic way to look into each other eyes when you have beads of sweat dripping into them off your forehead, and I sure as hell don’t want you to touch me because the bugs are touching me enough and I’d probably catch you in the chin with one of my arms flailing that’s trying to hit the bug that just bit me on the arm.

But we finally made it down to the river; I take one step into the water, and BAM! Legs go over my head, arms reaching to grab something, anything, but there is nothing for me to stable myself and I ever so gracefully biff it into the water, right on my ass. Yep. I am the most graceful create to walk the earth. He is busy laughing at me so I stand up take one more step and fall again. I give up. Dating is not my forte. Needless to say, I doubt there will be a second date.

To my pretend significant other, here's a list of 36 things that will annoy you

Recently I read this list on Pinterest, 42 reasons why I am single. I thought while some of these reasons were valid, most didn’t apply to me, then I thought about that lady who wrote that horrid post telling me to evaluate all my annoying habits, then I started...I started making a list of reasons why I’m single; so, my dear future significant other, here are things that are going to annoy the shit out of you

1.       I’d much rather be left alone on Saturday night...well basically all of Saturday to lie in bed while watching Sons of Anarchy. Really, I don’t want to get out of bed, brush my teeth, put on make-up, none of that, I just want to sit there with Irma (my dog) and fantasize that Opie wants to marry me. Please find something to do during that time or better yet, make yourself useful by making me a sandwich.

2.       I don’t like to share my food, closet, smokes, bed, and money, basically anything. I don’t like sharing; I like my things to be mine and your things to be yours and if you ask me to share I will no longer like you

3.       I don’t like to cuddle, again, that goes with number two, my bed, your bed. Seriously there were times when I would make Kermit sleep in a different bed even after living together for more than 2 years; I like to sleep alone, not because we were fighting but because I like my own space when I sleep. With the exception of Irma, Irma can always cuddle with me

4.       I laughed way to hard in point number 3 when I got to write number 2. See now I’m laughing again, five year old boy potty humour is and always will be hilarious to me

5.       When I want to be loved, you better be there to love me and be fully prepared to leave when I am done with wanting to be loved.  Much like a cat, which are only popular on the internet, not in relationships

6.       I have 5 imaginary weddings planned, if you don’t fit into one of those 5 weddings, we can’t date. I’ve put a lot of time into those imaginary weddings.

7.       I’m Gonna Be, The Proclaimers, learn to love that song, because I will play it on repeat a lot

8.       I can probably burp louder than you, my pretend significant other

9.       Farting is always funny, unless it involves an oven of the Dutch decent.

10.   I can’t cook rice to save my life...can’t do it. I fuck it up every time. If you ever want to eat rice again just keep looking because I am not the one

11.   When I pour milk I will always spill some  on the counter, I can’t help it

12.   I am horrible at doing laundry, my mother is trying to teach me, but she just has so many rules, delicates, lights, darks, I get that...but I just don’t understand why I can’t put a towel with a hoody and why I can’t just throw everything in the dryer, so many rules to laundry.  I hate doing laundry

13.   When it’s that time of the month I will watch every romantic comedy possible and I will cry and cry and cry and hate you for not being Ryan Gosling and sending me 365 letters. When you see me searching everywhere for chocolate it’s best that you just go into hiding for the next week and send me love letters, it’s the only way to make it through the week.

14.   There will be times when I make you listen to Taylor Swift, P!NK, and Alanis Morissette, probably around the same time I am watching romantic comedies. It will be annoying because I will repeat the same 3 songs over and over again; it’s my sad music, deal with it.

15.   Anytime I drink tequila. That is why I am single. If I start drinking tequila, run in the opposite direction, no good will come from that

16.   I will insist on drinking tequila

17.   Tequila will make me puke

18.   I will curse you for letting me drink tequila, damn you pretend significant other for letting me drink tequila

19.   There are two things I will never understand, why the Spice Girls broke up and how to tell time on a clock that isn’t digital.

20.   I’m in a long distance relationship with Ryan Gosling...he might use the term “restraining order” but I prefer the term “long distance relationship,” so I’m sorry pretend significant other, I will never be able to fully invest in our relationship

21.   I will sing to every song I know. I can’t sing, but damn it I will die trying

22.   I will plan choreographed dances to songs and might be sad when you don’t want to be my back up dancer, this goes along with my need to tap dance through the grocery store

23.   You can come to expect that Jenna will know every single detail about you. Every single last detail, that she probably doesn’t want to know, that you don’t want her to know, she will know. It doesn’t matter how many times you say to me “Justine, don’t tell Jenna about this.” I can guarantee you the first thing I will do when you aren’t around is tell Jenna about it.

24.   I will probably wear hair extensions well into my late 20’s when the inevitable day comes that I trade in my long, beautiful, fake hair for a bob.  I don’t care if you don’t get why I spend so much money on my fake hair when I  can’t afford rent and that you like my hair without them, the quickest way to piss me off is telling me I don’t “need” hair extensions, just learn to accept them like the child we will probably never have.

25.   About once every three months I will get the strong urge to cut my hair in some drastic, trendy way, it is your job to talk me out of this every time. One time Kermit had to break into the bathroom because I’d convinced myself I wanted to shave half my head like those trendy tattooed bitches on Pinterest and I could do it myself

26.   Camping, I hate camping, I will ask you to go camping every May long weekend, I will last 24 hours then want to go home. Please take me home to my bed, my shower and bathroom. Please don’t remind me that I do this every year, I know, camping just sounds so fun in my head

27.   I will have a list for everything, no I never actually follow said list, but it relaxes me to make them. Isn’t it ironic that you read about my love for lists...in a list?!

28.   Really, though...I need to bring up tequila again. I’m just going to go ahead and apologize in advance for all the times tequila will make you mad at me

29.   How I drive, it’s going to drive you crazy. Yes I need to talk on the phone, smoke, use my GPS and change the song all at the same time, do your part and let me know when the light changes if you want to make it home alive

30.   I have to be on time for everything and being on time means being ten minutes early. If I am late and it’s your fault, prepare to feel the wrath of the devil.

31.   Bobby pins...bobby pins everywhere

32.   I will make you listen to my girl gossip, I will ask for your opinion, I know you don’t care what this person said but humour me my dear pretend significant other, your opinion is important to me

33.   I will over analyse every single situation in my head, 30 times, you can tell that I am when I bite my nails, this should make you nervous, so very nervous

34.   My mother, she is overbearing, no, you don’t get used to it, don’t worry that will annoy me too

35.   How many outfits I have to try on before I go out for the night, my hatred for socks and jackets, and how many times you will have to hear “I have nothing to wear”

36.   My need for you to accept the previous 35 things about me, because I can’t and won’t change. Those are thing things that will drive you crazy, there is probably more, but regardless those are the things that make me, me.

The week that lead to me sitting in a parking lot looking like a crack head...part three

Part one is here part two is here

Part 3 – The Melvinator (kind of sounds like a bad ass super villain that destroys the hearts of girls everywhere, well really just mine, because normal people would not be attracted to this hot mess of a man)

It started Saturday, when I invited him out...again...and he declined...again, well first he said maybe, and then he said no, so it was really just more disappointing. Whatever, I am used to it at this point; I carry on and have an awesome Saturday night. But when I don’t hear from him Sunday, I feel a little sad, when I don’t hear from him by Tuesday, I am really sad, by Wednesday I am in breakdown mode, by Thursday I’ve concluded that I will be single forever, why? Because if I remotely have feelings for another male I act a damn fool and scare them away.

What is my solution, I text him, because he totally wants to hear from me right? No he doesn’t, but I do it anyways. I ask him if he wants to hang out Friday night, nope he doesn’t (we really aren’t that shocked are we?), he might possibly have plans, might possibly have plans, the possibility of plans is more attractive than making definite plans with me, or even coordinate another time to hang out, because throwing me a god damn bone (figuratively speaking you perv) would just be too much to ask for at this point.  Nah, he leaves it at that, and so do I. I can’t physically put myself out there anymore, I am standing so far out there by myself yet again it’s almost shocking that I can be in this same situation. But I can be.

You know that game Waka-mole? Melvin is the person playing the game and I am the little mole that pops out of the whole, but he’s really good at the game so he knocks me back into the whole multiple times and I just keep popping back up. Really, he is taking home the big teddy bear. That is my life analogy, Waka-mole. Let that just sink in for a minute...

 

Yep...

 

Sinking in?

 

Goooooooooooodddd....

So there’s that. This happened right before I was leaving work, so I just got rid of the Aussie who cushions my blows from Melvin, I am stressed over the toothless wonder, who has made it his own personal mission to treat me like shit and has now involved my boss instead of talking to me like an adult, and Melvin has made it clear that he doesn’t want to talk to me...

And because I have the best skin on the plant I have now fully broken out in a stress rash, and because I was dropped on my head as a child I thought that lotion would make it better, but I am allergic to some lotions, so without thinking I put lotion that I am allergic to all over my god forsaken body. GO LIFE!

I get into my car, I pull away from work and I commence into full mental breakdown mode, but I have Jenna’s baby shower on Sunday  so I have to go to the mall so I can get stuff to make a cup cake stand  for the 30 cup cakes and 30 cake pops Dana and I have made, so I am sitting in the parking lot at the mall crying and itching myself because of my stress rash and rash from being allergic to lotions, I look like a crack head. Maybe not a, I ask for change on a street corner crack head, but a upper middle class, white girl, crack head, think Lindsay Lohan, but in a Grand Am not a Escalade or Mercedes, and not as skinny. Why life? Why did I have to be a female, why do females have to have so many fucking feelings, why, why why. Why couldn’t I have been a male, why do I have the stupid ability to care the most for people who don’t care about me, it’s a lovely personality quality.

I get the cup cake stand and I drive to Kermit’s house, well our old house. Judge away my  friends, I walk in and he has wine sitting there for me, well a whole bottle of wine. So I drink and he talks and tells me it will be okay and he makes me feel better, which only throws me more into a downward spiral because how can the man I spent months crying over seem to be the only person who makes me feel better? I guess I’m happy that we can still be friends, that instead of rolling his eyes at my stupidity he listens and comforts me, he seems to get my crazy, and I’m glad that after all the bullshit we went through to this point we are still friends, then there was the silver lining, some glimmer of hope in my tragic white girl problems, he has started internet dating, he has been talking to a girl for a week! You guys must be confused because this is my silver lining, but I truly just want him to happy, I want him to find someone who makes him happy, but if she happens to be ugly than bless her heart. And she was. Well, she wasn’t horrible, but I was writing home about her either. Go ahead; tell me I am a bad person, tell me that I am going to the deepest part of hell for finding happiness in the fact that my ex’s new love interest is not as pretty as I am, go ahead tell me I am shallow and for saying that I will never find love again. I don’t care, it made me happy, and I feel a small sense of victory here. So I left his house and I feel better, I have a grip on my emotions, and maybe realize this is why I was medicated for so long.

The week that lead to me sitting in a parking lot looking like a crack head...part two

If you didn't read part one, you don't really have to, but you can and it's here

Part 2 – The Aussie

The Aussie got back from his little trip Tuesday, I think, he asked me to hang out Wednesday, I declined, because I wanted to watch Sons of Anarchy and dream of marrying Opie and replacing his dead wife (sorry, she dies, it’s so sad, I cried really hard at that part). That’s when the worst thing possible happened on Wednesday night, Netflix wouldn’t work. How am I supposed to pretend to be married to Opie if I can’t see his bad ass ways on the television! Now I am bored, it’s 7 o’clock and I have zero desire to pull out bob and zero desire to go to bed...so I text the Aussie and say I will meet him out for wings, but not before I ask who is there and who is going, I learned my lesson the first time around, he said it was him and two friends, WHO ARE NOT FRIENDS WITH MELVIN, I know this! So I go, I walk in and I see him and ten other people sitting at a table, I walk over and guess who was there...MULAN! JESUS! Damn you Netflix for not working, damn you Justine for not having a hobby, damn you life and my poor decision making skills. WHY DO I NOT HAVE MY OWN T.V SHOW!

The Aussie is tucked away in a corner so I sit on the other side of the table and get death glares from Mulan. It was nice to see that she had her fun bun back in place; I missed her fun bun, it makes me a little happy when she goes back to her jean jacket and fun bun, it brings back such found memories.  The Aussie makes his way over to me and we talk about his trip. The Aussie doesn’t smoke so I say I am going for a smoke to try and get a minute to think about how awkward this is and regroup. He insists on coming with me, but he needs a smoke, which is confusing because he doesn’t smoke. If there are three things you know about me it’s

1.       I make poor decisions when I have to think fast

2.       I don’t like sharing my cigarettes

3.       I am emotionally unstable

But really only number 1 and 2 apply to this situation, well I guess 3 does too, oh fuck it, me being emotionally unstable applies to every situation. So I give him my smoke and we go outside, mid conversation he kisses me. WHAT THE HECK! I didn’t even know what to do, one minute I am talking and the next there is a tongue in my mouth, I’m pretty sure I didn’t kiss him back for the first 15 seconds, I probably just stood there confused with a tongue in my mouth, so weird. And there were people around, I don’t like public displays of affection, to weird, and he was getting all kinds of up in my business, grabbing my butt and I was getting all weird and so I just stopped kissing back and put my cigarette back in my mouth! HA! If there is something in my mouth you can’t get your tongue in there! MUHAHA! QUICK THINKING JUSTINE! SELFHIGH FIVE! The night kind of went like that, and actually the Aussie,he isn’t all that bad, he seems like an okay guy, who just likes to drink, and when he drinks he gets naked, which if you know me, would probably be a disaster when it comes to a relationship, we would never be allowed to go out to parties together.  We would get drunk and naked (in a non sexual way) all over the place and people would think it’s weird that the only two people on the earth who get naked when they drink have found each other. I need someone who will monitor my ability to take off my bra when I drink, not encourage it.

Regardless my emotions are still on a rollercoaster so when I leave I get into my car and just start bawling, no idea why, well I have an idea why, because I think part of me is wanting Melvin to be as enthusiastic c about me as this Aussie guy is. So I cry all the way home, pull myself together and go to bed.

He texts me in the morning and I decide I need to be honest with this guy, the same way I want Melvin to be honest with me, I tell him that I think it will be best if we are just friends, and I mean that, I think he is a good guy, just not really dating material and I can’t see it going anywhere beyond friendship. But while I am happy that I was honest, the sudden panic that I have lost the guy who is my cushion from Melvin rejection is now in the friend zone because I put him there. Which leads to sheer panic that I may have to actually deal with the disappointment I feel from Melvin, which leads to the last part of this story, the person you guys don’t want to hear any more about, Melvin, aren’t you glad I saved him for the last part?

My life in a nutshell.

Let me break down my life for you

What I wanted:




Why I am dumb:





You guys are all like:




Now I'm all like:




So that's where I'm at. Happy Thursday. I'll be drowning my sorrow with ice cream and chocolate. And one more just because...

Bitches be cray

I had a four hour Skype date with Abby on Tuesday night, she is obsessing over a man who is just as confusing as Melvin, so needless to say we spent a good four hours trying to decode each other love interest. There may have been some other things brought up, like wine and chocolate but for the most part, it was four hours of obsessing over every single detail of our love interests. What this text message meant, what he meant when he did this or that, and why oh why do we allow ourselves to become so wrapped up in one person. I know it’s because of girl logic, but I left the conversation with one thing in mind, how can two fairly smart and educated women spend four fucking hours talking about guys, letting them control most of our though process throughout the day and all of our thought process at night. How is that normal? How is that healthy? How can we not want to talk about anything else? Seriously, it makes my day when I see a window to talk about Melvin, when I am able to spill the whole situation onto someone in hopes that maybe they have more of an idea what is going on. It took everything I had to not unleash the whole story on a poor cashier at the grocery store when she asked me how I was. In my head I wanted to say,

How am I?! OBVIOUSLY I am not okay, obviously I am confused about this guy and I just don’t know why he hasn’t texted me today because I really want to text him but I deleted his number because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me, but I like him, but he might like me, but he used this emoticon so I’m not really sure what that means, do you think that emoticon means he doesn’t like me or he does? What about when he said this...that has to mean he wants to hang out with me right?!”

I  didn’t say that, I held it in, I wanted too, she was the one who asked how my day was...maybe she shouldn’t do that if she doesn’t want to know how my day is actually going. How ‘bout them apples grocery store lady!

I hope someone else has had a moment like that, where you just want to unleash on a random person. I know Abby isn’t any better than me though, she is obsessing just as much as I am, maybe even worse because at least I get drunk and spill my guts, yay me for having zero filter when I drink, Abby  keeps it in. But at one point in our conversation she said

“ya, but he used a period, he NEVER uses periods so now I just don’t even know what to say back!”

I envy anyone who didn’t have the dating pressures that text messages puts on us. When things are done over face to face contact you have the ability to forget things, to not go back and re-read conversations and you know the tone of the voice and not have to worry about a period. A fucking period. Who obsesses over that?  Women do.

Men don’t sit around talking with their friends asking if it’s okay to text them, analyzing what you should say, writing a text, deleting it, re-writing it and then pressing send and going into full on panic because it’s been 30 seconds and he hasn’t responded, heaven help you if an hour or two goes by and he hasn’t responded, at that point you are sitting on your cold bathroom floor, hyperventilating, gripping your phone for dear life, rocking back and forth, while singing the sun will come out tomorrow. Men send a text and get on with their lives, they don’t write or re-write and they definitely don’t have panic attacks if they don’t get a text back.

They probably don’t feel the same kind of excitement that we do when we receive a text. Oh my poor family and friends, Melvin text me last night, first, without me texting him, I was almost asleep in my bed at 9:30 at night when the ding went off, I check my phone, success! I jump out of bed and start doing the fucking Macarena, which would be normal behaviour for me usually, but I was in underwear and a tank top, probably not a sight my 15 year old brothers friends who were sleeping over wanted to see. Didn’t stop me, I was jumping around and singing and then realized I had to reply, so I wrote and re-wrote then wrote again, I settled with “hey I’m good how are you.” I thought that was a good response, right? Trust me the first drafts where a little rough, at first I thought of writing “I’m just swell” then I was going to say “good, you?” but I settled with “hey I’m good how are you.”

Men don’t do these kinds of things, the most would be a smile at their phone, women go bat shit cray. Also men don’t sit around analyzing if they slept with you too soon, if you should have done something different, worn a different top, if you have to much cleavage or not enough, men don’t try on 50 outfits for a date (which is just crazy). Men will pick a pair of pants off the floor and a shirt and go, they will send the first text they write and they won’t give it another thought, they won’t spend hours going over every detail of the time you’ve spent together, they just act how they want. It’s infuriating knowing that we spend so much time worrying and obsessing and analyzing and they don’t have to feel that panic we do. The only time they feel panic is when they think they are about to get some and it’s still on the fence because she could put her pants back on and go home or she could fully take them off. That’s the panic we women have to deal with all the time when we have these God awful feelings for a person.

Don't You Forget About Me..Or Do, I Don't Really Care

I know its terrible date Tuesday; the thing is I am being a ball of suck today. I don’t think I can find it in me to talk about more failed dates, as hilarious as some of them are. Dating is draining, feelings are draining, and unreciprocated feelings are just fucking exhausting.

 I gave a big fuck you to Melvin last night after his vagina grew to an astonishing new size. He isn’t aware, it’s not like I started growing balls just because the man I was...I don’t even know what with...has a big sneaper, so I just deleted all forms of communication that I could possibly reach him with. It’s not like I could really tell him

“hey you know what...you are more of an emotional rollercoaster ride than my mother going through fucking menopause and if I stick around any longer I am going to throw...no hurl, myself off this mother fucking ride and pray for the sweet release of death to find me quickly as I plummet to my emotional death because I am starting to lose my mind trying to figure you out!”

Ya, see I can’t say that. I’d like to...but I can’t, so I won’t.  Because in my head I am secretly wishing for my 80’s love story ending...yes...I am still praying that one day someone will show up at my window with a boom box, blasting Simple Minds, Don’t You Forget About Me, wait for me to walk out my door and tell me that they were an idiot and give me some romantic lines about how awesome I am. But that isn’t going to happen, it never happens in real life. In real life I hang out with a melodramatic, self centered, over sized child who probably won’t even notice I stopped talking to him. In real life things are complicated. In real life...this just isn't working and in real life I realistically have many more years of heartbreak and dating disappointments to go through, and probably a nasty divorce leaving me as a single mother. That’s real life, not some 80’s movie I’ve made up in my head.  

So instead of saying all that and getting my hopes up, I just cut off communication, I know he isn’t going to put the effort into talking to me, unless you know he wants something or someone to feel bad for him and now I can’t reach out to him. I figured after weeks of being dicked around I had had enough, I’d put myself out there way to far, way too many times to get back extremely little. So that’s the end of that. I’m going to allow myself one night to wallow in self pitty while Abby and I skype and talk about our failed love interest, probably turn on my 80’s playlist and get the hell over him and this fantasy dating world I constantly live in.

Dating isn’t made up of magical moments where you walk into a room and he sees you across the room and walks over to you and sweeps you off your feet. We don’t get some modern day love affair where you meet at a party and fall asleep together on a roof top after talking all night. Dating isn’t about the guy you’ve lusted over for years suddenly realizing that he loves you too and you ride off into the sunset together. No fuck that. Now dating is drunken one night stands, Facebook and text messages, dirty pubs and on-line applications. Where is the romance? Where is the passion? Where the fuck is my 80's love story! Not in Melvin...I can tell you that much. Probably not in any one else, I am destined to be alone because my ridiculously high standards of romance. Great thank you Sixteen Candles, Pretty in Pink, and Say Anything, for giving me unrealistic standards for love.

Terrible Date Tuesday: Am I drunk yet?

I’m a talkative person, I can generally talk to anyone at any time, I have no problem walking up to strangers and talking to people, so maybe that’s why I hate people who are so quiet. What I hate even more are people who choose to do all their conversing through text message. I get that it is easier to be brave over text, you can hide behind your little cell phone or computer and be a chatty Kathy! It’s for that reason I really strongly feel that when it comes to dating your text conversation should be kept to a minimum. I feel like it makes an awkward situation when you can spend a week getting to know every detail of some ones pathetic life only to sit down and go on a date with them and have these awkward silences filled with not really knowing what to say or do. So how goes your brothers fight against genital heries that you felt the need to tell me about over text message? See...awkward.

Mchottie and I met in Mexico, in a drunken state mind you, but we did spend some time sober together. He was sweet and charming, not really all that funny, but he was alright. We could hold a conversation. I met up with him again when he was in Alberta for lacrosse provincials, then after Kermit and I broke up we began our month long, text and talk every day. I knew everything about him, we would spend hours talking on the phone, I would talk to him about Amy Pohler, life, and he would talk about work, lacrosse, different things he did on the weekend. Our conversations were similar to what couples talk about when they are trying to maintain a long distance relationship. I had low expectations of what would happen once I was there, I knew what I wanted, him to pay for me to go to Toronto (yep...I’m a gold digger, judge all you want), have a weekend with friends and drinks and that would be it, we would slowly taper off.

But once I got there everything just seemed wrong, he was arrogant, unlikeable, and bossy. The weekend as a whole was not good, there were good parts, but I just don’t think you can start the weekend off with is in my top 3 worst dinner dates and come back from that. He picked me up at the airport, we drove back to his house and got ready to go for dinner. I am not a jacket person, people always comment on it, but I just don’t like wearing them, never really have, so while leaving the house he said, go get your jacket. I am a grown ass women, if I wanted a jacket I would have grabbed one, I am not five please don’t talk to me like I am a child. I say I will be fine, he tells me he won’t leave until I grab one. OKAY DAD! I grab my jacket, we leave. He parks a million miles away, I guess it is Toronto, and we walk to the restaurant. I make a note that it’s colder in Toronto than it was in Red Deer. He looks at me and goes...ya...aren’t you glad I made you take your jacket. No I am not ass muncher! I would have been fine and if I was cold I wouldn’t have told you because I am stubborn like that. Automatically I am in a bad mood, but hunger probably had something to do with it, see I’d been flying all day so I had eaten a bagel on my way to the airport at about 7 in the morning. It was now 7 o’clock in Toronto. I am not one of those girls that doesn’t eat on the contraire, I eat, I like to eat, and that’s why I drag my ass to the gym every day, so I was hungry. We arrived at the restaurant at 7 o’clock on a Friday night, unless you are Kim K and Kayne or someone with the equivalent amount of fame you are going to be waiting to get at table. He starts saying how hungry he is, over and over and over again. No shit jack ass, we are both hungry, hence why we are going to eat, stop complaining. He starts commenting on which people are finished eating and not leaving their table in a timely manner, you’re right, they are sitting there enjoying each other’s company, which is exactly the opposite of what I am doing now.

We sit down and thus commences the awkward silence and the awkward, what are you getting...oh I’m not sure what are you getting, conversation. I hate that conversation, it's forced and just makes things feel uncomfortable, because you know if that comes up it usually means you have nothing better to talk about. We decide by the time the waiter comes around for drinks...well he decided and I was forced to make a fast decision because he was hungry. They bring out a starter salad shortly after that. I said starter salad, not some big salad that has all this stuff, it a small salad with lettuce and cucumbers. He finishes his quickly and I continue to eat mine, when I am about half way done MY STARTER SALAD, he looks at me and says...wow you were hungry, you are eating a lot. IT WAS A FUCKING STARTER SALAD!!!!!!! Every childhood memory of being called fat comes flashing through my mind, the time the girl didn’t invite me to her birthday because she didn’t want a fat kid to eat all her birthday cake, the time the boy didn’t like me because I was fat, the soccer coach who told me I’d be an amazing soccer player...if I could only lose 20 pounds, all those repressed memories of being the fat kid came flashing back. Our meal comes...I didn’t eat it. I couldn't I was sent back to that 10 year old version of myself, the one who was to scared to eat in front of people and was so self conscious she would wear a hoody every single day, even if it was 30 degrees out side. But I watched him eat his meal...all of...maybe you are the over eater fatty, and drank three glasses of wine in the mean time. So now I am a drunk, hungry, angry mess. 

Our conversation picked up once I started drinking more and we are talking about the mountains and how I love them, he says he went there once with another friend and two girls but they mostly just stayed in the hotel...yes...my friends...I am no idiot. He brought another girl to the mountains for a weekend and was choosing to talk about it in front of me. I didn't tell you about the time I went to the mountain with my ex boyfriend, I don't want to hear about your romantic weekend away either, but thanks.  He can tell I am about to rip his head off so he says lets change the topic. After I pointed out he brought up his weekend getaway I say I really don’t care because I am sure there were girls before me and there will be girls after me! Just like there were guys before him and there will be guys after. I have no filter; I have no ambition to be nice when I am tried, hungry and apparently an overeater. This starts our first fight. I am mean, I just have the ability to hold it in most of the time but not when I fight because I will cut you down in every way possible. But I have to spend a weekend with this man and I don't want him to go all Ted Bundy on me, so I just get up and leave in the middle of him getting mad at me and come back and say ready to go? I figured at that time it was my best option. We walk back to the car and he asks what I want to do...drink more so I can pretend to like you. Except I can't say that so I suggest we meet up with his friends for a drink because I'm not really tired. So upon arrival I made friends with one of his, and I drink. He was more pleasant, he was funny and actually carried a conversation with me, shocking concept I know. I could tell Mchottie was getting annoyed, I had just spent he last hour pleasantly ignoring him but letting him buy my drinks. Just what I wanted.

He drags me home at 12 and by that point I can almost tolerate him, thanks to my early choice to switch to hard alcohol, some times wine just doesn't cut it. That’s pretty much how my weekend went, get drunk so I like you...ahh I am sober...I HATE YOU MUST GET DRUNK!

That “date” night was definitely the top worst ones of my life, partly because he sucks, but a lot of it was because I knew that I had to spend the rest of the weekend with him so there wasn't an escape...the shocking part was, he said it went perfect...do men lie? Because the common thing about all horrible dates, is that the women is saying oh my god never again! While the man thinks it went awesome...oh dating...how awesome are thee

Conversation between my heart and my head & why I will be single forever

I give up on dating, men, and sex. I am going to become a nun, if they’ll take me...they probably won’t. They’ll take one look at my Facebook page and know that I am on the fast track to hell. Heaven help me if they take a look at the list of men I’ve slept with that sits on Dana’s fridge...they would drown me in holy water and that probably still wouldn’t save me from my sins.

Abby called me last night while I was wallowing in self pity. We talked about how useless we both are when it comes to dating, how pathetic it is to let one guy dictate so many of your feelings and how it is even more pathetic  when you are sure they don’t care. I am talking about Skippers brother...who’ve I’ve named Melvin. I pretty sure he just not that into me...but regardless...well I’ll let you read what went on in my head

Conversation between my head and my heart:

Heart: LETS TEXT MELVIN, I want to hang out with him! He’s probably sitting at home missing how awesome you are...

Head: You are an idiot heart, you are breaking the rules of your FWB (friends with benefits) relationship with Melvin, further more he isn’t at home waiting for you to text him, don’t be stupid. Put down your phone. He doesn’t like us.

Heart:...really...what is one simple text message going to do? It will be fine

Head: WHAT IS IT GOING TO DO!? THROW AWAY OUR DIGNITY! We’ve been over this if he wants to talk to us he would talk to us

Heart: Not true...maybe he just got so excited thinking about us he had a heart attack...you better text him to make sure he’s okay.

Head: Seriously heart...could you be any more stupid

Heart: That is completely logical, we are awesome. It’s a known fact that people have been known to have heart attacks from too much awesomeness exposure.

Head: Well we are awesome...

Heart: Yes...so just text him something


Head: YA! DO IT WE ARE AWESOME!

*sends text about need to find a midget friend to do funny things with?!?!?!*

Head: We are not awesome...we are idiots. We should have stopped when we still had dignity left.

Heart: ...maybe just sometimes we are awesome?

Head: No...no we aren’t...we are going to die alone with nothing but our tap shoes and once we reach a certain age we won’t be able to tap dance around the house anymore! ALL THE JOY HAS BEEN SUCKED OUT OF OUR LIFE!

Heart: ...ya okay. You’re right. But I think we are awesome brain...you know what would cheer us up?

Head: A bullet to the heart so I don’t get talked into stupid shit?

Heart: NO! We are going to turn on Tommy Tutone listen to that Jenny song and dance...that always makes you feel better

Head: I just don’t know if - *867-5309* YOU ARE RIGHT HEART THIS DOES MAKE ME FEEL BETTER


And I wonder why he doesn’t like me... I’d like to say that I made that up...but that is really how my night went...what can I say something about Tommy just really gets me going.

Degrassi...the next generation

I took my niece Bess to the arcade and bowling yesterday, she brought her boyfriend. My niece is 8. Yes, my 8 year old niece has a boyfriend, his name is Jace. Jace used all the tokens he won at the arcade to get Bess a ring; a big, plastic, shiny ring. They hold hands and it’s all so cute…until I realize that

a)       I couldn’t get Kermit to put a ring on it, I will probably never get a ring, and I will sing Single Ladies all the way to the alter of my best friends weddings

b)       I am single…with no prospects of that changing, which is fine, because I enjoy being single. But any current prospects would just end in me settling again. Except for one guy, maybe. A guy not even you, my readers, know about.

c)       Although I happily content being single my current love life is like a whole season of an after school special of Degrassi.

So while Bess basks in her first love I am reminded that my relationships have all failed and it all seems in the tragic way that I came up short, I was just not what they wanted. I am not concerned with my failed relationships, I’ve become a better person because of them, I am happy being single and taking time for me but it doesn’t change the fact that I currently have a fucking crush on a guy I haven’t even had the nerve to write about. I have a middle school, Justin Bieber style, ask my parents if I can go out after dark, crush…and it needs to go away now.

 Welcome to my after school special kids, grab a seat, popcorn will be handed out right before the climax of this love story.

The climax where this man took  one of your friends on not one but two dates…then kissed you.

No no…not that climax…silly. That’s just the start of episode one

The climax where he told you that he planned on taking a trip in the next couple months to clear his head because he going through some kind of crisis.

Nope still not the climax

The climax where he makes you climax?

Well...that's a climax just not the kind I am talking about. Jesus.

You mean the climax where Skipper walked into his brother’s house to find you hanging out with his brother, and it was very obvious that you had just spent the night? Then Skipper stormed out of the house while yelling something at said brother?

Maybe? I guess we’ll see because this after school special isn’t over yet…I mean it should be. I should have got up and left after he kissed me, that’s what a good person would have done. But I didn’t. I wouldn’t have replied to his messages after he kissed me…but I did…I shouldn’t have let him make me laugh or feel special or happy or content because that’s really the beginning of the end for me and now I am left sheer confusion. I mean I just want some one who wants to hang out all the time, thinks I am awesome and beautiful and tells me so and wants to have sex with me and only me. Don’t mistake that for a relationship. Relationships turn into routine, they turn into fights, and they turn into work. I just want some thing fun and easy going, some thing that is just simple…this isn’t simple…I realize that…but when I am with him it feels easy. He makes it feel simple.

But being a girl I needed validation that he felt the same way I do so I asked the stupid question even though every thing inside me screamed don’t do; I asked him how he felt, if this was going any where or if it’s just what it is now. He said he liked me, but it was complicated, no, complex. I replied, Dana and Skipper? He just said ya. I don’t even know why I asked, I had been saying that since the start that I couldn’t exactly go to Sunday dinner with his family and sit down between the two brothers. I couldn’t give his dad a high five for raising not one but two sons who rock in bed.  I couldn’t answer the question how did you two meet; oh he was dating my friend! I don’t know what I was expecting; I don’t even know what I want. Maybe I need to learn to be content and go with the flow and not over analyze every thing.

I am content with this delicious croissant that is filled with chocolate and whip cream and strawberries. I am very content with that.