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.

Grab some balls

We know that I do not claim to be a dating expert, at all, let us just take a look at my past six months of dating history, Mchottie, Aussie, Awkward man, and the last three months of Melvin...ya dating is not my forte. But in attempts to completely remove myself from Melvin, I am giving a new guy a chance. Should I get over him by being alone? Probably, but that’s not working because I have zero will power, so this is my plan b. I met him a couple weeks ago at a party and he seems nice enough, he went through a lot of effort to get my phone number, well he asked a mutual friend, but he still tried, he’s cute, so I’m going to give him a shot.

Things were going well, he sent me a text asking what my plans where for the weekend, I had none, I am poor, so I said that I didn't have any as of yet and what about himself? He had to help his brother yada yada yada, he was free Friday night and asked if I would like to do something. I said yes - that is where I pray that he isn't a big pansy and I see the little ... on the screen indicating he is typing. *Please don't say what would you like to do* and then he says it, "great, what would you like to do..." Fuck off.

 While I am not a dating expert I can tell you my biggest pet peeve with males, well not all males, as I am sure there are still men out there that take charge, but I am seeing a common theme when dating men, they are more than happy to say “what do you want to do.”

Don’t, that is not my job yet, I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to come up with some kind of plan, take me somewhere, do something, anything really, pick me up and take our dogs for a walk, pick me up and take me to mini golf, pick me up and do something, but just show some initiative!!! But bless their stupid little heart, if I hear one more guy say, “what would you like to do” I am going to give him what my real answer is...I’d like you to bring me over a bottle of wine, leave it at my front door, leave and leave me alone to drink said wine by myself, and if you happened to bring a double cheese burger with bacon with said wine, I’d be a happy girl. So unless you are okay with that plan, come up with one. It comes with having a penis, you blow me away on the first date, I might just blow you. I’m kidding, I don’t do that on a first date. But really, if there is anything you do when it comes to dating, come up with a plan, show some initiative, girls like that shit.  

They call me Janelle...that's not my name?

When I drink I think I am a genius, a smart, funny, dating mastermind; I am not, I am an idiot, do not let me tell you any different. Friday night I went out with Nikki (remember her? Friend from college, excellent drinking partner, real classy lady), Melvin was there, but so where about 10 other guys. Nikki really is a single girl’s best friend, she  has a boyfriend who has mounds of single friends, Nikki is like the Easter Bunny, but instead of hiding chocolate she hides away single guys and you find them hidden one by one.  It’s a magical thing and every single girl needs a Nikki in her tool belt.

She took me to a new pub and we commenced a night of drinking. In order to make Melvin jealous I didn’t stop this Australian guy from talking to me all night, great plan right? It actually was until somehow me and the aussie got onto the topic that our city had a sex show all weekend and I had never been before, they have it every year and apparently it’s a good time. So when he said we should go tomorrow, I thought fuck it, sure I’ll agree and in a drunken mind frame this seemed like a great idea! A guy I’ve known less than 2 hours and a sex show, how can this go wrong! This is where normal people would be like oh wait, bad idea, not me, I don’t see the downfall to this plan. He asks for my number and of course because I am all wastey pants, I give it to him. As a side note, I really think the whole make Melvin jealous thing did help because he gradually spent the night sitting closer and closer to me and serenaded me with a song while he was singing karaoke, which by the way, made my heart go all kinds of melty and made me just swoon even more for this man, but this story isn’t about Melvin, so I’ll get back to the point.

When the aussie texted me the next day asking if I was still interested in going to the show my night flashed the less before my eyes, oh fuck I did agree, damn. He said he would pick me up at three, great, now my hung over ass has to get ready and go look at vibrators and other things with a man I’ve talked to for a short period of time, a short drunken period of time none.  This should be great!

There is another downfall here that makes this whole event even better; I can’t understand a damn thing this man says, he has a full blown accent and he could be saying “I’m going to take you down a dirt road and leave you there” and I would have no idea, I just nod and smile to 90 percent of what he is saying.

So he came and picked me up, right on time, which is a bonus for him, and we head to the sex show.  Things are going well; I remember his name and the parts of our conversation that I could understand from our night before. I remember that he played rugby for a club in Shitville and he informs me that he has friends who are working security at the sex show, because you know, sex shows can get pretty out of control at 3 in the afternoon. We walk in and immediately he see’s people he knows, great. Now I’m confused if this is a date or just two people hanging out, or what, but regardless, I believe introductions to friends on the first date is just awkward. I’ll do it, I’ll be polite, but can’t we just avoid eye contact with all friends till the third date because then I really never know how to handle myself in these situations. That may make me weird but I feel like I can’t really jump into the conversation in fear of saying something wrong or overhearing something that you don’t disclose on a first date, so I just like to avoid these situations, he doesn’t, he says “aw can’t be rude, better go say ‘ello to my mates” and I’m like all like “uuhhh what did you just say? Where are we going? AHHHHH follow, okay, I’ll just follow!”

I’d like to point out that we talked for one night and we were both drunk and so when we walked up to his friends I wasn’t really sure how the introduction would go...but what happened next I wasn’t sure how to handle. Maybe someone smarter could have figured out what to do, thought better on their feet, or found a way to avoid the situation entirely, I am not that person, and we all know how I handle pressure situations; fucking horribly.

He introduces me to a group of guys...”this is Janelle.” The first time, I wasn’t sure if it was just his aussie accent trying to say Justine or if he really did just say the wrong name, but it was confirmed when another guy from this rugby club came up and he said it again...”’ello mate, this is Janelle.” That’s not my name, close, but not really, but do I correct him, because that would just make it awkward. I could just be like “oh hey nice to meet you, but that isn’t actually my name! I just met this guy drunk last night and now we are at the sex show so don’t give him a hard time, I could barely remember what he looked like this morning!” But if you don’t correct then he will just keep thinking that that is my name and well how long do I wait to correct him? If things go well do I just change my name and never tell him that my actual name is Justine, not Janelle. I went for option two...I’m just going to wait it out.

After awkwardly walking around the sex show he asks if I want to go back to his house for a beer, well I’m three drinks in, you don’t know my actual name and I don’t turn down free alcohol so why the hell not! We get back to his house and I sit down on the couch and start drinking beer, we are talking about a mutual friend that he lived with and I played soccer with and went to Europe with when he asks the question, “Would you like to see some Australian money?” Funny little aussie guy, I may be four drinks in but I know that means going into your bedroom, I am not venturing into there, even if we just spent the afternoon watching pole dancers and looking at vibrators. I start laughing hysterically and he doesn’t seem to understand why, I think it’s funny that he thinks that line would work, he doesn’t see the humour in it, so I say no, I’m not a hooker, money doesn’t get me into your bedroom, again he doesn’t laugh, and I’m left thinking maybe guys don’t appreciate my sense of humour as much as I do.

I left shortly after that and he drove me home, still not knowing my real name, not thinking I’m as funny as I do and probably confused as to why a girl who was willing to go to a sex show was not willing to go check out his Australian money. Ah the perks of going on a date with me.

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

Terrible Date Tuesday: Week of horror

So it’s terrible date Tuesday here at DL&P! It is easily becoming my favourite day of the week, even more so than Wine Wednesday. This week instead of just one terrible date we have a whole week of bad...no, terrible online dates! Dana (bless her heart) has submitted her week of horrible dates! Enjoy, I know I did!

 

Soooo date week from hell. Because I needed a whole week, not just one bad date in a week. I am fun like that

What does one do when they have a bad break up? They go on plenty of fish. To PROVE they are irresistible, smart, sexy women. They find their hottest pictures with their friends having bad hair days, or they find a picture of them and their ex and crop the SHIT out of that picture. I’m going to tell you all about my week of BAD pof dates.

Sunday – Break up, an angry break up too, not one of those sobbing ones, no no more like no motherfucker you are going to PAAAYYYYYYY FUCK YOU WATCH ME WALK AWAY FROM YOU AND MOVE ON WITH MY AWESOME LIFE!

Monday – go onto POF make your account, not pleading, not looking for life love, but you can’t say you just want to hang out because **apparently** that means hooking up. You need to be funny, light, smart, serious, great in general and pretend you NEVER go crazy. So you put up all the ex’s favorite pictures of you that you’ve cropped, then you wait. For an hour. Then tada TONS of desperate lonely men just chomping at the bit to get to know you! It’s great, you’re talking to so many men that are so interested in you!! Of course you get a couple weirdoes that are offering you Christen Grey type behaviour because their wives aren’t into it, but mostly they’re just lonely normal guys – Or so you think.

Tuesday- I make a date with a guy new here from British Columbia, they always seem pretty down to earth. Put on a cute shirt, random necklace – don’t want to scare them with too much real jewellery – and jeans. We are meeting at a local pub called East 40^th So first sign of a shitty date is that he meets me inside, obviously not a gentleman and would like to see me look around confused first. Second sign of a bad date is that he doesn’t look like his picture….at all…so much so that you’d think it was his distant cousin in the pictures and you’ve been bamboozled. But hey! He’s not a total monster so ill sit have a few drinks, I’m already there. He wants to have some pizza after he texted through two beers and barely grunted at my enquiries. So he gets 2 for 1 pizza. I ate three slices…he said “WOW you eat a lot of food for a girl hey?” What a dick! These were not huge pieces of pizza, just to be clear; these were normal size pizzas! Everyone knows that when you order two kinds of pizza you try one of each and go back for a second of your favourite. It’s common sense.  To top that night off, he goes in for a kiss, were we on the same date buddy? I do the deer in headlights, awkward hug, and turn and then DOVE into my car. Like I could have been on the Olympic swim team with the dive I took to get away from him. Then he called me repeatedly for another date….are you fucking kidding me? Did I miss something?

Wednesday- So I meet this guy at Tiffany’s, which is a pretty nice restaurant and he’s pretty cute, older though. So we plunk down in front of the fire place in these chairs that are not for dinner. But hey whatever, we all make mistakes. I easily reach 800 degrees in the first twelve minutes,  this is getting awkward. This guy starts comparing me to….his daughters….who are five years younger than me. WHHHAATTTT?!?!? Yea, seriously.  So now I’m sweating to death and I’m deeply disturbed by the kid thing. But oh well. We order some food, I ordered an appetizer and he orders a full 10 oz steak dinner. This would have been fine if it wasn’t for him getting pissed off at me for only ordering an appetizer.  To make matters worse he comments at least 12 times about how weird I am and that I’m obviously not from Red Deer (like that is an insult)….Born and raised actually….dumbass. Then he tried to get me to pay so I threw a twenty down and stalked off, I didn’t order the steak douche bag, pay for my ten dollar appetizer, I realize you have college to pay for your for your daughters but lay down the ten bucks and be a gentleman! He followed me out to my car and tried to kiss me good night….sorry no. This frigid bitch said have a good life; go for people in your own age gap!

After two dates there are two very apparent things...choosing what to order and how much eat is apparently a bigger deal than I thought it would be! And no matter how bad the date they will always go in for the kiss.

Thursday- Thursday, oh Thursday we should have stayed at home and watched old Friends reruns.  I went out on a date with a guy named Abram. Yes, I do understand now that the name should have tipped me off but nooooo. I don’t learn quickly, God forbid.  We went to Bo’s, he seemed shy, had a beer, pretty endearing. He was asking me about growing up in Red Deer and so I asked him similar questions. That’s when the first proverbial ball dropped…He is a Mexican Hudderite runaway. Yes, you read that right... MMMMMM I know how to pick em right? I was already three paralyzers in so I jumped right into the conversation being like What? How? Who? When? Where? Why? Apparently during WW2 they ran to Mexico with a handful of other huds and they all interbreeded (im not just being a bitch, just wait) and then they came up to Canada with his whole family of 10 and they all started working in Ontario, got ex communicated or whatever the hell you call it and so then he ran away to Alberta to start his own little dream. Now everybody in his family has 6 fingers on both hands (see I’m not just a bitch). BAM.wait wait wait this whole hudderite thing just got dropped on me, no way, nooo freakin way, I asked him to prove it, because I am three paralysers deep and I need proof of this…yeah... he did…phone pictures L that night ended with both of us going in opposite directions. I can’t run the risk of my future children having extra digits.

Friday – Friday came and I was jacked. Nothing bad happens on Fridays! It’s Friday, every ones gotta get down on Friday! I was going to cities, which I love due to their love of bacon. I figured life was good; I met this date on match.com which has to be MUCH better off than POF right?? NO. They are just social and emotional retards with money! Brutal I tell ya. Anyways this one smiles awkwardly in the parking lot (and I took that for endearing, I’m not looking to date a puppy but wtf maybe this little gaffer is just a little shy, better than a douche bag)  and we say hi and we go into cities grab a table …….. …….. …….. ……. And don’t say a thing. When I’m feeling nervous or awkward I talk. SO I talked and talked and talked and talked and talked like I was on some kind of illegal amphetamine, this was a bad situation. He answered everything in single syllables. He had a lego watch. He looked like Chuckie from Rugrats. His smile is still unknown to me.  I’m sure he did agree to date me, I remember him asking me and me agreeing but hot damn it looks like he was on a blind date that his mom set him up with. Pretty Brutal anyways after a mute dinner we ‘hugged it out’ in the parking lot never to speak to each other again.

Saturday – I went to my friend and got drunk properly. Deleted POF. And decided I would only date strangers I find in my bar because at least we will have that much in common.

Terrible Date Tuesday: The hamburglar

 Welcome to today's episode of terrible date Tuesday:

I’ve been on my far share of bad dates, this time though, it was me who was the terrible date, kind of. I met this guy on-line, aren’t we all shocked? This was a few years ago way before Kermit, back when drinking on weekdays was part of my weekly routine, you know, wake up, shower, poop, school, gym, eat, get drunk. I was really good at it, never really got hung over, was a functioning human being, seriously I could teach the course on drinking in college.

Like I said I met this guy on-line and we both went to the same college so one day we decided that in between classes we would meet up and grab a coffee. He was okay, nothing special, seemed like an okay guy, not really a spark. But he did live in the dorm and was having a huge kegger Friday night. Count me in, you don’t have to ask me twice. So I got 5 of my girlfriends together and made our way over to his kegger Friday night.

Once there he started hitting on my best friend, Ro at the time, meh that’s okay, I was at a kegger and there was millions of guys, you go girlfriend. After several keg stands and rounds of beer pong we made our way down to the country bar but not before I had picked up a stalker from the party. He seemed nice enough but he was not my type, at all, redneck, fat, and I think I remember red hair. Any ways, give me enough keg stands and I will think any one is funny and charming, so with beer goggles on I spent the night two stepping with him. At about 2:30 in the morning we decided we needed to go home because Ro was done dodging the guy I had a brief coffee date with. Red neck man asked for a ride home, fair enough you live close by, sure.

First thing he does is ask to bum a smoke. I am in college people. Money does not flow when you are in college, hence why I am talking to you red neck man, so you can buy me drinks because I am to fucking poor to buy them myself. What ever, I give him a smoke. He then asks to stop at Mcdonalds, again, I am poor, to poor for drunk Mcdonalds, so you know that’s poor, but he offers to pay so I make a pit stop.

Ro and I order are Mcdonalds, buddy orders his and has now “bummed” three smokes off of me. This is turning into my nightmare. We get up to pay and he says “oh fuck…I forgot my wallet at the bar.” Are you kidding me redneck man? Seriously. I hate you. I am driving you home, you’ve smoked my cigarettes and now I am not even getting Mcdonalds from you? I hate you. I spend my last 20 dollars on this Mcdonalds that we ordered and drive him home. Now usually when you go through drive through it goes one of two ways, you wait till you all get back to the house and all eat, or the passenger passes out the food. Simple theory right? He did neither, he just started eating, I could see him munching down in my peripherals. I wasn’t paying attention because I was angry with this man and looking at him repulsed me at this point. So we pull up to his dorm house and I say, pass Ro her Mcchicken. He said…I ate it. Why am I not surprised? Oh ya…you are oozing douche from every single poor. I said ok pass her mine…He said…I ate it. IT WAS A FIVE MINUTE FUCKING DRIVE YOU ATE ALL OF OUR DRUNK MCDONALDS! I snap, and say ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME YOU FAT REDNECK SON OF A BITCH?! He then opens the door, farts, and says “thanks bitch”

 

What happened next is a complete blur. I went crazy. I get out of the car, take off my heels and chase that mother fucker down. Now the best part of this all is I was wearing a very little blue strapless dress. In my chase after him the strapless part had fallen down, so I am running after him, dress around my waste, boobs every where because they are just being held in by a strapless bra, I am bare foot, heels in hand and swearing like I am an angry sailor. Ro was behind me trying to stop me, but there was no stopping, I was on a mission…the mission, kill the fat, redneck man who I hate. He smoked my cigarettes, ate my food and called me a bitch and farted…I was going to hurt this man. So I jumped on his back and started beating him with my very cute black stiletto. Really legs wrapped around his stomach, holding on with one hand and beating him with the other. Naturally he is screaming so now people have gathered, Ro is back by the car laughing hysterically, and then there is me, on the back of this redneck douche bag, beating him like the crazy person I am. A guy finally pulls me off and I get in my car and drive home. Angry, hungry and out of smokes. Oh and broke because I paid for it.

& Justine said go forth my children and multiple

I work out with my dad and my cousin every day, well okay that’s a lie, I don’t participate every day, I usually drag my ass down 3 to 5 times a week, and spend a significant amount of time drooling over Banana Pants Man (remember him), but in two months I’ve lost 20 freaking pounds. SUCK ON THAT SKINNY JEANS I WILL MAKE YOU MY BITCH SOON ENOUGH! That’s not what I am focusing on today though, my cousin has been a single man for as long as I can remember, he has had his flings, short relationships, one night stands but never has he had a serious relationship. generally he gets fucked over a lot. You probably think it’s weird I know his sexual history, and it is, but he is two years older than me and we went to the same high school and had a lot of mutual friends and it’s a small town. So naturally he has dated around a lot, but over Christmas he was casually dating a girl who went to the same gym as us. She reminds me of a school teacher so for the purpose of this post I will refer to her as the School Teacher, any ways, I drove them home drunk one night from the bar and she was all over him like a gay man on a unicorn, seriously, and she thought I was his sister at the time, this girl needed to get it in a fierce kind of way. Since that night we talk at the gym and she invites me out some times, I usually decline, but all in all I thought she was a nice girl.

While I was pumping the iron yesterday, aka hanging around near Banana Pants Man while he was getting all sweaty and hot and …oh god I need to change my underwear now, ahh focus Justine. Back to my intriguing story…so while I was pumping Iron, my cousin asked me if I was friends with the School Teacher, I said no just casually quick hey how’s your training going, kind of conversations, and I asked why, obviously there is a story here and I want to know it, I love hearing about other peoples drama. He informed me that when they started “hanging out” she was recently divorced and wanted to keep her legs closed till she was comfortable or some shit, he said fine I can wait, not a problem. They had been hanging out for about two months when he found out that she was banging some 20 year old on the side so all the lines of not being comfortable until her divorce was finalized la dee dah bull shit was just lines.

Now here is my confusion, I saw School Teacher in the back of my car giving a lesson in car foreplay 101, obviously I could tell this girl was not the wholesome kind of school teacher, but hey, I don’t judge girls on their sexual adventures, I’m all for it, but he was really confused about the whole situation and really hurt. He thought she was a nice, wholesome, girl.  They weren’t dating exclusively, in fact she had given him the green light to sleep with other girls, and he had, so he was more mad about the lines of bullshit she was feeding him.

Normally, I’d be on my cousins side and I am, I don’t like to see him get hurt, I love the guy, and at first I was like

“Dammmmmmmnnnn boy she played you, what a hoe”  

But then I thought about it…all she did was treat him like most men treat women (yes, I realize how much I hate men at this point in my life and how much I think they are scum bags, ya ya ya). She wasn’t dating him exclusively, she had every right to sleep with whom ever she wanted, he was, and chances are he didn’t call her up after getting down and dirty and say, just a heads up I just got down and dirty just thought you should know, so why should she do the same? If she didn’t want to sleep with two guys at the same time and picked the 20 year old because she knew he was more disposable is it wrong to come up with a lie? I lie about having my period all the time when I don’t want to sleep with a guy, is that any different? Who really knows why she said those lines but I really don’t know if I see the problem there. I get he is hurt she was sleeping with another guy but he was sleeping with other girls? DOUBLE FUCKING STANDARDS I TELL YOU!

Girlfriend had just spent the last 6 freaking years in a relationship, she’s only 25 so that means, she probably slept with one or two guys, I say go free young grass hopper, play the field, see what is out there, welcome to the world of women treating men as disposable as they've treated us for years!

So what do you think? Bitch be a hoe…or bitch just dating around?  Really, am I just a crazy hoe for saying she was dating around and there is nothing wrong with that? 

Side note: it's a damn good thing none of the guys I am currently dating read my blog, not that I am dating that many guys at this point in time, but really my inner Samantha Jones/I am women hear me roar voice is really coming through lately. 

Here I go ranting about the perks of being a women again

So…I snapped out of my “maybe a relationship wouldn’t be so bad and I should take Mchottie up on his offer” delusion last night (that Allah that didn’t last long) and by snapped out I mean Dana sat me down and talked some sense into me and Mike showed me a video I made in a very drunk state on Saturday night and I am mouthing the words “I HATE HIM!” because he wont participate in my video to Mike where I drunkenly say I love you a million times.  So no fairy tale love adventure there which means I can stop justifying all the red flags because he looks so hot without a shirt on. Aren’t we all a little proud?

There was one conversation we had when he was drunk and I was sober (also another proud moment wouldn’t you say). We were commenting on a girl at the pub who was a little all over the place and he made the comment women should be pure, meaning he is labeling women as whores and skanks for sleeping around. Ya, buddy, let me tell you some thing, I have the strongest opinion on this, and I shared my opinion with him. He still held the belief that while men are able to sleep with hundreds of women, women can not sleep with hundreds of men because it’s not a desirable quality and she should be pure. Biggest load of bull shit to come out of his mouth all weekend. I have so many problems with this, my biggest problem is that double standard for women. Why should women be denied some thing that feels good, is healthy, and is fun just because they aren’t in a relationship? They shouldn’t be. Plain and simple. Men can go out every weekend and bang a different chick but women are suppose to sit at home and wait for this magically prince charming to come and sweep her off her feet? No such luck buddy. If I’m a whore you’re a whore and the whole fucking world is a whore.

Now I am not saying women can do every thing men can do, we can’t. There are things men can do, like pee standing up, that I will never be able to do. But I’ll be damned if men get the luxury of sex and women don’t for the sake of staying pure!

Also let me do some quick math for you, let’s say you are in a happy and healthy relationship and you have sex two times a week for a year, you have sex 104.36 times in that year (the .36 are the times you faked orgasms). You aren’t a whore or a skank because you’ve only had sex with one guy, but you’ve let him stick it in your bum, done some crazy things with a blind fold and whip and maybe even made a home made porno, you still aren’t a whore. You are a nice, wholesome girl, who has only had sex with one person. YAY!

On the flip side of that, lets take single Sally, and she has sexual relations with a new guy once a month, so she get laid, once a month, if we are going with the one night stand kind of deal. Sally has sex 12 times, maybe 15 if she stays the night a couple times. Further more that’s an extremely depressing number, 12 to 15 times, she better be getting a discount at the sex store for all the vibrators she must buy. But back to my mathematical example, she is having nice wholesome one night stand, man is probably on top, lights are off, no crazy whips or lube sex. She’s are a whore. How does that even make sense! Relationship Rachel in the top example is having sex 6.96 times more than her! And! Not only that but relationship Rachel up there is doing all kinds of freaky shit in the sheets because she is comfortable with relationship Ronald!  But Sally’s number is higher, therefore she be a hoe. Sorry Sally, not only are you having less sex, but you are the whore his mother warned him about!

I am not saying go out and have unprotected sex with the whole world, but I just feel like the same standards should be there for men and women, just be safe and know what you are getting yourself into with a one night stand because they aren’t for everyone.  And if you run into a douche like Mchottie who says he only dates girls who have never had one night stands, do like I did and lie through your fucking teeth. 

Weekend recap: Mchottie

Well, I’m alive, and I didn’t shit my pants and I had an interesting weekend to say the least. It was filled with vodka, wine, beer, a pub called Busters which reminded me of the dirty, old men hitting on me, one two hour conversation with Mchotties 70 year old mother about different races (like people, not the kind you bet on), a serious love/hate relationship with Mchottie, a shocking moment when I was corrected on his age (he is older than I thought), many airport camel toes and mass confusion when it comes to my feelings about him.

Really, he is the epitome of dumb jock, he doesn’t get sarcasm, at all, and we really don’t have a lot in common. If I was Carrie from Sex and the City he would be my Aleksandr Petrovsky. That is the best way I can explain it. One minute I am ready to kill this man because he’s pissed me off the next I like him. 

My phone was also stolen which makes it interesting when people are texting you all the time to make sure you are still alive and you have zero way to let them know you are because you can’t send a text that says

“he hasn’t killed me yet”

to your friends from a man’s cell phone who does not think it’s funny that your friends are certain you are going to end up dead this weekend. But once again I survived a questionable life choice and lived to tell the tale. On the plus side, because I lost my phone I don’t know if Awkward guy texted me but I am assuming he’s assuming that my lack of reply for three days meant that I am no longer interested in him, which I am not at this point. So that’s one way to get rid of a guy.

But I am now more confused about Mchottie and our little situation than I ever was before. I was ready for it to be just a casually weekend, but leave it to me to develop feelings for a man who has so many fucking red flags that he could be a game a minesweeper. I go back and forth and after a drunk conversation where he once again made it clear he isn’t moving but if I wanted to I could move in with him and go to school or work, basically do what ever my little heart wanted then the offer still stands. But in an equally drunk conversation I made it clear that he could dream on if he thought I was moving here and having kids a year later. Ya right, I went down that road and we all know how that turned out for me. So basically, that’s my story right now. I need another drink just to make sense of all my drunk conversations from the weekend. There was a reason vodka and wine and beer where at the top of the “my weekend was filled with list.”

Yes I know it’s also Terrible Date Tuesday, I will get that up tonight! Don’t judge I am jet legged and trying not to get fired.

Terrible Date Tuesday

We are going to start some thing new here at Diary of the lost and perplexed! I was really missing my 60 day It’s Called a Breakup Because It’s Broken challenge and thought I needed some thing new and exciting for you guy! We are calling it Terrible Date Tuesday! Sounds fun right! Every Tuesday I am going to write about a terrible date I’ve been on just for your reading enjoyment! Now…I haven’t been on that many terrible dates, a few, enough to get a start on this, but I am going to need your help! So ladies and gentlemen I want to hear about all your terrible dates. It doesn’t have to be a first date, maybe your boyfriend took you on a bad date and you think the world should know about it, although first dates hold a special place in my heart. You can e-mail them to me here diaryofthelost@gmail.com or you can take a stroll over to my facebook page HERE! Please put the subject line JUSTINE THIS IS MY TERRIBLE DATE! I will read them while drinking wine and laugh at your misfortune, just as you laugh at mine, asshole.  So please share and let’s make Terrible Date Tuesday the best thing on the internet and help me get on Ellen. Because I really just do this blog in hopes of becoming famous and getting to go on Ellen one day! On that note…Ladies and gentlemen…the first entry of Terrible Date Tuesday! Welcome to the date I call The Drug Dealer.

The drug dealer

There has never been a date worse than this one. Never and I’ve had some bad ones. He informed me that he couldn’t meet me at the restaurant because his car wouldn’t start but if I could please pick him up that would be great. So I did, shit happens right? Ya, when I got to his house there wasn’t a car there? Maybe your problem was that you didn’t have a car to start, I’m not rocket scientist but generally one needs a car to start a car. I should have drove away then but I didn’t. Oh Justine…life choices.

So we go to a restaurant that he worked at…that he told me he owned, but he didn’t. He worked in the kitchen he didn’t own it. This man must be very confused because again I am not a rocket scientist, but just because you are an employee does not make you an owner.

We ordered a drink, as in one for each of us, no more, no less  and the only words out of his mouth was I like your necklace it’s really pretty. Convenient, my necklace hung right in between my tits. I mean I strategically planned that but still. Twenty minutes later he asked if I could drive him home because he needed to run to his friend’s house quick but then we could come back. So being young and dumb and thinking he was hot I agree. We go into his house and he pulls out a duffle bag. A FUCKING DUFFLE BAG! Any guess what was in this bag? A lot of mary jane. A lot of it. Like you know in movies how some one has a duffle bag full of drugs and one has the brief case full of money, picture that…just not brief case or money. Did that make me leave? No my friends it didn’t…because I was a stupid fucking twenty year old.

He starts to tell me about his promising music career and if I would like to hear his CD. If a man with a duffle bag full of weed asks if you want to hear his CD the answer is always, I mean always yes. He puts it in and out comes the best rap about a ham and cheese sandwich I think I have ever heard. Have you ever loved a sandwich so much you were compelled to write a song about it? No? Me either, but I want to meet the man who made a sandwich that good and give him a high five! The next song, even better, pink lemonade, we are sippin’ on some sweet pink lemonade. Ah…good times. He must of wrote those after hanging around with his duffle bag.

 I asked for a copy and I got one. Life 0 Justine 1! I have a little token to remember this date always. Some people get taken to carnivals and the boy wins them a teddy bear, I get a duffle bag full of weed and a rap CD, thus is life.  

At this point he got up to go to the bathroom. I did what any completely insane 20 year old would do, I grabbed a zip lock bag from the table and put some of that weed in a bag and shoved it in my pocket. Ya, you read that right. I stole from a drug dealer. Not recommended but this point I needed some thing to do damage control on how bad this date had been. It was at this time that I hear *SNOOORRTTTTTTTTT* in the bathroom…ok maybe you just have a booger you have to suck up…but then it happens again…and again…and again. Ya that’s not a booger my friends…that’s a man riding the rails to happy land. Furthermore who snorts that loudly! Fucking weird man. Now I may not be above stealing some bud from a drug dealer, but I am definitely above that. I am getting the hell out of dodge. So I say “uuh my friend just texted me I have t go, sorry it was nice to meet you!” He comes out of the bathroom and asks if I can drive him to drop off some weed at his friend’s house. Seriously dude? We just met tonight…no. I am taking my free weed and getting the hell out of dodge. End of date. Sadly I never heard from that gem of a man again. But I did smoke that weed while listening to his CD. Best thing ever. Ah…where is that CD!?

The most awkward first date that left me with a man who told me he was infatuated by me

Friday night, I got dressed up and went for a drink with my sister. Well when I got home around 9 o’clock I felt like I couldn’t waste a good hair day and a good outfit on one drink (that would be selfish, obviously), so there was a guy that I had been talking to from the hell that we call internet dating. I texted him and said, if he wanted to we could meet up for a drink, but I don’t know how long I can stay because I had to be up early. I figure that way if it was horrible I’d have a reason to have to bail. So we met up on his side of town and some how I got there first? Weird, because I just drove across town and he lived 5 minutes away. I grab a seat by the door and text every one I know to tell them that if it’s horrible I will text them “chicken” and they have to call me.  And thus begun the most awkward first date that left me with a man who told me he was infatuated by me.

OK ready, set, go…he walks in…and nothing. No butterflies, sparks, excitement. I’ve felt butterflies since Kermit, mostly with Skipper but I know that I can feel them with some one else other than Kermit. But I felt nothing on my end. Oh well, he doesn’t look horrible, he was kind of cute, I decide to stay (maybe it would get better right?) and chat with him; except by stay and chat with him I mean I try to make awkward conversation and he just shyly answers and I basically have a conversation with a wall. 20 minutes and half a beer later, he informs me that he had to take his brothers truck (yes, I passed judgment on the face that he had to take his 20 year old brothers truck) back to him so his brother could go to work but he could walk back if I didn’t mind waiting there. WHERE DO I FIND THESE MEN! Oh ya...in the scum of internet dating land. Yes, I do mind actually, I think most people would mind. That's like saying, you just sit here and have a better conversation with a door, but don't you worry, I'll be back in twenty minutes; so yes, I think that’s fucking weird and I'll just go home thanks. So we stay and chat for 20 more minutes, again mostly me trying to carry on some kind of conversation, then wrap it up. He pays the bill, about one of the only things he did right on this date. Then we walk out.

Now I am not a dating expert by any means but I’ve have been on some amazing first dates and some horrible first dates. I will make a chart for you guys some day. But, my point is…this date was average. On every level it was completely average. There was just a lot of mistakes on his end (not on mine, I am the perfect first date) that left me driving home thinking that this would have had to be his first, first date.

First he was shy, which is fine, some people are shy, but at least know how to carry on a conversation. I’ll give you a hint, conversations flow, they should be easy when there is a connection, some one says some thing, usually in question form, you answer the question in more then one or two words, then maybe ask me a question, you know, build on the conversation,  get to know each other,  we’ve been texting for a week, you know a little about me, ask me some thing.

Also another important part of a conversation is to look at some one when they talk to you. Do not go all crazy eyes on me, don’t stare at me like a crazy stalker, but if you could look in my direction that would be appreciated.

Don’t pull out your phone on a date. Never. You go to the bathroom but pulling out your phone to text is weird and just adds to the awkwardness of you not knowing how to carry on a conversation. The only time you pull out your phone is when you are trying to bail on your date. That’s a fact. And even then you go to the bathroom and come back with your phone in your hand, set it on the table and wait for your friend to call you to tell you she is going into labor.

Then it comes time for the awkward good bye. Unless you are 100 percent sure it was an amazing first date you don’t ask for a hug. (hint, if you have to ask for a hug it wasn’t a good date). Regardless, I am not a hugger, unless I love you, then I will hug the shit out of you; but until then, we don’t hug. He stops when we go to part ways to our car, I had turned to walk away, I said goodnight, then the awkward can I have a hug statement comes. Augh. We are not on hugging levels and because of this I say I’m not a hugger but sure. Auughhh why are you touching me; no touchy. No, not even a high five at this point. And I love high fives.

I drive home. I get a text message, “it’s not fair how beautiful you are, I want to see you again soon.” Were we on the same date? Because that was not amazing. It was weird. You were shy and I filled in the  gaps with nervous conversation. Seriously, when the best part of the date was when you went to pay and I watch a very drunk girl dancing around in a helmet it probably means there wasn’t a connection, at least from my end.  And here is a hint, don’t get all brave with text messages after the date is over. So begun the string of you’re amazing text messages. I don’t even know why? I wasn’t charming, my outfit was good, and my hair was good and I was rocking a Kim K smokey eye, but it was just about the most awkward 40 minutes in my dating life. Just about…I’ve had one date worse than that.

Also, do not, I repeat, do not send a text message that says, "so if you aren't are a hugger, does that mean you aren't a cuddler?" Cuddle with you? Hold your horses pony boy. We are not talking about cuddling yet, cuddling happens once you've shagged and unless you count that picture of me you keep next to your bed and tube of vaseline intercourse is not happening between us. 

Another hint, do not ask some one out on a second date through text message. This may be my new biggest pet peeve. The first date, sure, I can understand that if it came through the hell that we call internet dating, but after we meet, pick up the phone and call me, come up with a plan, be a man about this, take control. Girls like it. None of this pansy ass dancing around, well what would you like to do shit. Come up with an idea, call me, ask me, we go. Simple. Take charge. It is the single most important thing if you want a second date. When I ask you on a date, I'll come up with a plan, but I don't have to do that until the fourth date. Until then, it's all you baby. 

And lastly, don’t say things like I know you like me too. Uhh, well I don’t. I am sorry, you were average on every single aspect of that date. But I like your confidence. Use that confidence to pick up the phone and ask me on a date, not a text message.

So that was my first internet date after Kermit…and by all means, left me feeling hopeless about the potential dating pool in Shitville. I mean, we know that I am the classiest lady to walk this earth, so if you could try to be a gentleman, at least a modern day gentleman, that would be great.

Oh well, Saturday night proved to be more interesting when I went out with guys from work and one of them kissed me. We are just going to pleasantly ignore it because he leaves to go work up north for the next month, and may have a girlfriend who lives in B.C. What is it with guys who have girlfriends? Why is it that guys I think I am friends with like me but the ones that I like hate me. Well…cheers to being single and not having to care I guess. 

Day 58...What's wrong with on-line dating? Let me tell you.

I am done with on-line dating. Mostly because after the events of this weekend it is apparent that I am not ready to date and my emotional baggage is not being dealt with in a healthy way. Except for Mathew Mchottie, because well, he has my flights booked to Toronto at the end of the month. Continue to judge all you want. But I want to talk to you about on-line dating, not my life choices. I am going to be brutally honest and you can all call me a bitch later but deep down you know I am right.

This may get a little complicated but try to stay with me.

In real life people are on scales. It’s a hot/smart/funny scale, meaning you can be 10 out of 10 on the hot scale, but if you are dumb as fuck, uninteresting and just plain boring and you are a 2 out of 10 on the smart scale, but lets say you are funny, you can tell some mean one liners and are a 5 out of 10 on the funny scale, you are no longer a 10 out of 10 because you are hot. You take the average of the three and that’s what you actually are.

Now when you are dating, you tend to date within a couple points of your average. It’s a fact, you never see a smart, sexy, hot guy with a girl who is ugly and dumb (although money can some times play a role in affecting this scale). People generally have some kind of self awareness as where they sit on this scale and so they tend to hit on, date, flirt, and sleep with people on the same level as them. It makes sense right? You never see a 8 with a 2, it’s usually a 4 with a 6, or a 7 with an 8…you get the picture?

The problem with on-line dating is that this scale is thrown out the window and can create some huge problems.  This scale makes sense and it works and gives some kind of cushion for being rejected. I would never walk up to Clooney and start flirting with him; he is out of my range. I mean, I am pretty funny and I am pretty (okay, when I put make up on) but I am not on his level of sexiness.

In the world of on-line dating, people have this sense of bravery when they hide behind a computer screen. Hey, what harm can it do, I’ll send a quick Hi and see what I get back. Because of this false confidence dating sites make you put up pictures to give you some kind of idea so you know not to reply and you can read the little write up to see if they are complete idiots. Another rule I have is there is 420 in the user name, I delete, I don’t even read because I already know what it will say. But I mean these sites make it so you can get a general idea, you can’t get the full picture but you get an idea, hence the long drawn out process of chatting back and forth, maybe a phone call then the actual date, and the fact that you have to sort through a million men to find one who isn’t a loser.

Also, as a general rule for pictures guys tend to look better, girls tend to look worse or the same as pictures.  Generally, girls never look better. We understand camera angles that make us look hot.

On occasion you can get messages and they don’t have pictures, I generally don’t reply because no pictures means either

a)      They have a girlfriend

b)      They are ugly

Either way I don’t want to reply to either of those guys. Unless you count that guy with the girlfriend from Friday because I would let him take me on a date just to spite his girlfriend who I hate.

But I made an acceptation to the rule when I read this message and the guy was funny, a little witty, seemed generally interesting, and okay.

So we talk for a couple days and I am interested in this guy (in a you don’t seem to bad for being on a dating website kind of way), it doesn’t help that in my head I am picturing this Ian Somerhalder, Johnny Depp, tortured soul with this dark mysterious side. Seriously, doesn’t that sound magical? In my head he is sexy, so I ask for a picture and pray for the best. Please, please, please have eyes like Ian and the personality of Johnny and the abs of Channing. Please say there wasn’t pictures because you are just too damn sexy they made you take them down. Yes, people, I understand the odds of this happening are .03% but I am a believer.

 I did not even know what to do. He was probably 350 pounds, glasses, greasy, man. At this point you probably think I am a huge bitch, but seriously, let me refer you back to the dating scale, I am a 6 or a 7, he was a 2. I put pictures on my profile, good and bad pictures, so you know what you are getting, on my good and my bad days. He could see what I looked liked. He knew what he was getting. I got Chris Farley with out the funny personality, because I could have at least friend zoned this guy if that was the case. The picture of my Ian, Johnny, Channing mix suddenly turns into this man and all I can think of is fat guy little jacket. Seriously, I almost sent that clip from Tommy Boy and left it at that. But I didn’t; because I am not a heartless bitch.

So even though, I can be a bitch, I am usually only a bitch when I need to be or you’ve pissed me off; this guy had done neither, so I was trying to be nice. I simple said to him that I was casually dating another guy and things where starting to get more serious and I wanted to see where it would go.

That is the politest way I’ve ever let some one down. I feel like that was super awesome of me. I could have told him that he was too ugly for me to be seen in public with, but that would have been mean.

This man went off the deep end crazy! Saying that he didn’t care if I was dating some one else, I needed to continue to talk to him because he enjoyed talking to me. Uhh, you are not Christian Grey, you can not talk to me like that. I have never been good with being told what to do. Maybe in bed but even then in the back of my mind, I am saying don’t tell me what to do. So I still tried to be nice, saying that I was not comfortable with that but I would contact him if things didn’t work. Again, I am obviously giving you the brush off; I am trying to be nice. Take it and go.

He then flew off the fucking handle. He told me that I was only saying this because of how he looked. At this point I had never mentioned any thing about looks. I didn’t say any thing about the pictures he sent. Not a damn fucking thing, so now I am a little angry. I tried to be nice jackass now you are just being rude. So in the nicest way possible I said, that he did seem different than most guys I’ve date, but I enjoyed talking to him, and (again) I would let him know if things did not pan out with my imaginary serious relationship. Seriously I should get an award at this point for being so nice. Okay, maybe not, but it was pretty damn nice for me.

HE CAME BACK FOR MORE! How did this man just not pick up his dignity and move on? He then asked what kind of guys I usually date, I said guys I find hot. Maybe not the best answer, but that’s generally how I pick my boyfriends. He then asked me how that worked out for me; are you kidding me? Well, fuck you too, asshole. So I did what any sane person would do. I said that for the most part it worked. Which is kind of true.; but let’s be honest here, I have a man flying me across Canada, a man who has the body of Matthew Mcconaughey, I am not going on a date with Chris Farley. I don’t even care how that makes me sound…it’s true.

 I really thought that would be the end of this crazy man sadly it wasn’t. I didn’t leave any openings for him to continue the conversation but that didn’t stop him, nope this man is relentless. Obviously, I pissed him off, and he was going to shell out his years of rejection on me.

He told me the only thing I have going for me is nice hair. Umm, Mr. I am so fucking full of myself for no apparent reason, what do you have going for you? And my hair is nice thank you; it is also hella expensive, thanks for noticing jackass. Apparently I am also a self centered, egotistical, materialistic bitch just to let you know. Crazy because twenty minutes ago you wouldn’t let me nicely stop talking to you. Go figure.

So thus concludes my month of on-line dating. I am going back to the real world of dating where you can judge people in silence and use the hot/smart/funny scale. If you want my honest opinion, this is what’s wrong with the world we date in. False confidence behind a computer screen, fine for blogging, bad for dating; if you want to ask some one on a date, grab some real life balls and approach her when you are half corked like a normal person. 

Day Eleven: Foot fetish

I have nothing new to report on the break up situation. I mean he is still all texty and I am still replying but he has yet to decide if he is willing to make the changes I need to work on our relationship. So again, don’t take relationship advice from me because I was good at it for about a week. At work there one of our suppliers is very friendly (read flirty) with me and I kind of like it because he is kind of cute for an older guy (he is like 35 not like 80 so he is not my knight in a shinning wheel chair). His advice was to have a roll around in the hay with some one else, I think he was suggesting himself and if he wasn’t a province away and I was drinking I could potentially take him up on that offer. But that got me thinking about sleeping with people and the whole number thing, how many is to many, why is it different for girls and guys,  what’s the difference between having random sex once a week and having sex with the same guy 6 times a week, those kinds of things. I will confess I went through a slutty faze around 18 and had a number of sexual encounters, I have since matured, walked away STD free and don’t have random hot sex any more, plus I was in a relationship so that wasn’t allowed. So last night I sat down with Jenna and Dana and made a list of every one I’ve slept with and you know what I was pleasantly surprised! I wasn’t as slutty as I thought! So that is a bonus! You should all feel very proud.

While making my list I then had to remember all the weird sexual encounters I’ve had and while I thought I had some weirdo’s, nothing, I mean nothing tops Katy’s story. She came with me to my Christmas party last week and she told me she had a story. She was set up by her married friends with this “great guy who would be perfect for her!” So she went out on a date and it was nice, he was hot, all around seemed like a normal guy you could totally date. She went out on a couple more dates with this guy when things lead to the bedroom. This my dear, dear readers, is when things took a turn for the worse. HE ASKED HER TO RUB HIS DICK WITH HER FOOT! What’s even better is once you are in that situation what do you do?! Do you get up and say you are freaky and I am not into that, do you pleasantly say no and then continue to have sex with the weirdo or do you just do it and pray that it will be over quickly. Well she went with option three! She said she cringed and just did it. She said that looking back there were signs. On the first date he noticed her totally cute shoes (red flag he is either gay or has a foot thing), then he noticed her pedicure the second date, then offered to rub her feet on the third movie date! Those are the signs ladies, run if any of those three things are mentioned in the first three dates. But it gets better still! I know, you don’t think it can, but it totally does. He texted her the next day asking for another date, her reply…

“I’m a dancer, my feet usually have blisters and calluses, I don’t think this will work between us. Have a great day though!”  

I am serious! Who replies like that! She said she didn’t know what else to do because they have mutual friends, at this time I replied you could have just said nothing? Pretend that you lost your phone and you didn’t get another one again. That’s what I would have done, I also wouldn’t have given the foot job. Although one time some guy paid me twenty bucks to suck on my toes at the bar…I obviously let him and bought shots wit the $20.  Foot fetishes are only expectable when there is money involved.

But the moral of this story my friends is why you test drive the car before you buy it because had she waited she could have totally ended up smitten with this guy and walking down the ailse because she was saving herself till marriage and then got a pleasant surprise on the wedding night. 

Love your ex-girlfriend who is thanking God you didn't have a foot fetish?