If he builds it... well...

A few dates in with a hot former Army man we go out for beers and wings which escalates into shots and some very bad karaoke on both our parts. Why I always think I know all of the words to Hotel California I’ll never know. Anyways. Everything is just clicking. Sparks are flying. There’s magic in the air etc. (insert any cliché here). So much so he turns to me and says very seriously: “is this a date? Because I don’t go on dates. (dramatic pause) This is a pretty amazing date”. Agreed.

He walks me to my car. There’s a chill in the air. Not another soul around but us. We pause in an embrace. He glances at my hand as I jingle the keys: “you know what that means don’t you?” he says (of course, I’ve seen Hitch). I laugh. “Say it,” he says. But before I can he is kissing me. Very romantic comedy. That is until a homeless man interrupts us asking for change. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” We laugh.

...And so we are at my place. He asks what’s in the dusty boxes pilled in the living room. I tell him they are my future IKEA TV stand (lets not talk about how long they were there). “Let’s build it!” he says enthusiastically (now he has joined the ranks of a very long line of men who never fulfilled their promise to help me build the TV stand. This includes my father). I tell him no worries, but he is insistent that it will be fun. So we spend the next 6 hours and a few more the next morning clutching an allen key and trying to decipher the directions of a Swedish stick man with no words. I am literally floored when I finally see my TV at eye level. I thank him, okay I gush profusely. He waves off my thanks insisting it was fun. Best. Date. Ever.

...And then I never hear from him again. Ever.

As my friend so accurately stated: “I wouldn’t build a TV stand for someone I didn’t like”. Hell, I’d be hard pressed to build one for someone I do like. Is this the basic difference between men and women? Men can act like you have a future together, get all comfy in your house, drink your tea, sleep in your bed and walk away without a thought? Disappear into the mist without a teeny tiny twinge of guilt?

Is it truly a leap of faith every time we take what a boy is saying at face value? Will Smith did not warn us of this. Rant over.

I like to think of my TV stand as a date parting gift. A take-away. A consolation prize. Really not all that bad.

Aye papi!!

So I’m out salsa dancing one night. I end up dancing the night away with a guy who was unanimously declared to be the “hottest guy in the club” and a helluva little dancer. So I didn’t hesitate the next weekend when he asked me out dancing. If nothing else I’ll get some good cardio. Win win really. Very gentleman-like he gives me a call before the date.

Boy: “I have a surprise for you!” he says excitedly.

Girl: “Really? Wow that’s so nice. I can’t wait.”

Boy: “you’re REALLY going to love it. It’s a surprise.”

So in my head I’m thinking flowers, candy, something small. I mean we just met. Nice gesture. Unexpected. I smile.

Fast forward to that night in line for coat check.

Boy: “do you want your surprise?” he’s smiling like the Cheshire cat.

Girl: “of course.” By now I’m pretty damn curious, and have consulted all my friends as to what it could be.

He reaches in his coat and pulls out a manila envelope. Hmmmm... that’s odd. Definitely not flowers.

Boy: “you’re going to REALLY love it!”

So I reach in and slowly pull out a photo. Puzzling. Then... I see my surprise.. Specifically, it’s an 8/10 glossy photo of my first date in a teeny tiny red speedo all greased-up and shiny flexing in a body building pose. I blush. My mind is literally blank. Shock and awe has new meaning. Shove it back into the envelope. We have an audience.

Boy: `do you like your surprise!?” he says excitedly and expectantly.

Shit. I’ve got to say something here. Wtf do you say when your first date gives you a glamour shot? This is weird right? Girl: ``ummm.. yes it`s great. Great photo.”

No doubt the man was seriously buff. Like yikes. He had a right to be proud. Just tooooo much. Tooooo soon.

That WAS a surprise.

Treat me like a lady. I'll treat you like a man.

Please refer to “Muppet not a man” post for context. Just makes this date all the more ridiculous.

Scene: Same theatre. Same pay machine. First date. Two tickets have been selected and the $20 total is on the screen. No one makes a move. Blank staring at the total. Not looking at each other. No moves for wallet or purse. Silence. Then awkward silence. Serious déjà vu here.

Girl: “so.... are we going to pay?”

Boy: “well ummm... (clearing of throat) uhhhh... sometimes I guess, sometimes I treat, but uhh well... (more clearing of throat and obvious forced awkward slow motion move to remove wallet).

Girl: “ we’ll split it,” said flatly while hitting the cancel button. No male protesting. Thought. Seems to me that the FIRST DATE would be the time to treat? Startegic even no? Why punch in two tickets? Obviously one total implies one payer.

Benefit of the doubt. Maybe he’s broke, and that was his absolute last $10. He’d scrapped together all the change in the sofa cushions because he really wanted to see me. That theory goes out the window as I watch him spend $30 on various junk foods for himself. “I’m soooo hungry. You’re not hungry are you?” Really?

And mid-movie...

Boy: “Any frozen yogurt left?”

Girl: “Nope, you ate it.” Yeah, I ate it. It only seemed fair really.

And post-movie...

Boy: “so it’s early, I can go to your place.”

Girl: “no thanks.”

Boy: “you like sleeping alone, don’t you.”

Girl: “I do.” Can you believe this guy?

PS. just read this article when I got home from the date. Alone. This passage seemed topical: “..perhaps there are qualities of the old-fashioned manly man to be salvaged. Chivalry, courage, strength, generosity, protectiveness and decisiveness”.

Maybe next year I'll just watch a scary movie...

Ahhhh Halloween weekend... when alcohol, a looming full moon and girls dressed as sexy somethings combine for the perfect storm for drama and, well, embarrassment. Not exactly my normal kinda blog, but there were some moments that just had to be recorded for prosperity.

Notable pick-up lines were flying like bats in a dark cave. None actually were successful, but I appreciate the balls it takes to deliver these lines and the laugh I have about them later.

Boy approaches. “Do I look like a drug dealer?” Me: “uhhh.. no I guess not” (what the hell does a drug dealer look like? Honestly). “Cuz some guy just asked blah blah..”. I’m already walking away at this point. Not sure what his end game was there. Next.

“Hi, you’re Christine right?” as he reaches forward and shakes my hand. Me: “no, sorry wrong girl.” Him: “I’m sorry you look just like a girl I know. What is your name?” Nicely played.

And apparently my search is over.. “Where have you been? Why haven’t I met you yet?” a classic re-visited with such sincerity. Puppy dog eyes and all.

And finally, though my costume was not the most original, I thought hey, who doesn’t like a nurse in a tube dress and red stilettos? So I ask a boy I like if he liked my costume: “was cute” unenthusiastic shoulder shrug. Not really the reaction a girl hopes for, but a nice adjective.

Bebe-la-la

Under the heading “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation”. Logistical phone call before 1^st date confirming where and when to meet with a man that can only be described as LL Cool J’s twin. Seriously. He says out of the blue: “do you want children? When?”. Kinda heavy question from a strange man, but out of politeness I give my standard messaging: “of course. When I meet the right man.”. I can hear him nodding. Then his follow-up question hits me: “would your parents be opposed to you having a mixed-race baby?”. Ummm yeah that really just happened. “Of course not,” I say. This seems pre-mature. Thinking before we plan our lives together we can go see the movie.

So really the next date should not have come as a surprise. I’m explaining to him that while I have a good job, I live alone so I’m responsible for the mortgage, bills etc. He is nodding thoughtfully. “I’ll move in with you!!! I love it here!”. Ummmm... I don’t think we are quite ready for co-habitation yet.

Fast forward a few dates... we are walking my dog through my cookie-cutter suburban neighbourhood. “What are you waiting for!!” he exclaims, while waving his arms about, “you live in the perfect place to raise kids!!”. Me: “well I kinda have to find a man first....”. “You have me!!! Let’s get started right now!!” as he pulls me by the arm towards home. Okay, now I’m actually panicking a little because he is dead serious in impregnating me this afternoon. He continues: “our child would be attractive, except for the bad hair” (very true. Both our curly hairs together may result in a hair nightmare). “Yes, she would have problems,” I agree. He stops dead in his tracks turns and looks at me with the puppy dog face and says: “she??? Not a boy???”. Really, now we are arguing over the sex of our imaginary child with a man who isn’t even my boyfriend. I think I have a headache tonight.

Don't hate the player. Hate the questions

I always assume that a guy isn’t a jerk until he proves himself to be. First dates are all about benefit of the doubt on both sides really. But the sheer arrogance with which these questions were asked left no doubt in my mind that I was dealing with a jerk. So as a public service to my fellow women, listen up men. I don’t ever intend to endure a night like that again. Sometimes there just isn’t enough booze in the bar.

Three questions that are probably NOT a great idea to ask a woman on the first date. In no specific order:

1. How old are you? (I’m legal. Next)

2. How much do you weigh? (Are you blind? Nope. Next)

3. How often do you workout? (How often do YOU workout buddy?)

Now, I’m not saying that these questions are always off limits, but at least wait until I have known you longer than 2 hours before dropping these bombs on me. They weren’t exactly a deal breaker, but I wasn’t exactly feeling all warm and fuzzy for the guy either.

Men, if you absolutely must ask these questions, as part of some elaborate screening process say, then pay attention. If you EVER want to have sex with that girl please utilize the following statements below after her likely curt responses:

1. My god! I never would have guessed that! You are hot! (Express genuine shock here)

2. You have an amazing body. (Look her up and down admiringly)

3. I’m sure you don’t even need to exercise. You look naturally fit. (Nod with certainty)

But if were you, I just wouldn’t ask.

My day was fine. Thanks for not asking.

I believe I speak for all women, when I say that this male behaviour is one of our biggest pet peeves. Doesn’t it just grind your gears when you ask a boy how his day was, cuz you care, and he says: “good”, “fine”, “busy” or some bullshit answer like that . Annoyed at his what you assume to be deliberate vagueness and his non-caring, at your caring, you follow-up with: “well, what did you do?”. He answers: “not much”, “worked”, “chilled” etc. Helpful. Those are some useless descriptive terms. Thanks for sharing. Infuriating. And why the hell did he not ask how my day was? Does he not care? I could have been robbed or fired or bought new heels. Honestly. So what is he hiding? Doesn’t he WANT to communicate? Doesn’t he like me?

After listening to this rant, my guy friend clued me in. Boys just don’t care to hear about every minuet detail of our day. Harsh. How we saw Susie and she broke-up with her bf again, how we feel guilty for having fries at lunch, how our boss is so mean etc. They just want to know if it was good or bad. Or, if we have a problem that they can help us solve. Simple. This does not mean they don’t care. Just that they are not girls.

Now our challenge as women is to just accept this and not start acting like crazy girl and believe that our relationship is on the rocks, he is having a torrid affair or any other insane reasoning we can dream-up. So just call your bff and tell her how you’ve finally found the perfect pair of black pants. She will care. And want to know where you bought them.

I'm a busy girl. Don't waste my time.

So I meet this guy. Cute, smart, and ambitious. Check, check, check. Actually wants to talk to me. Check. Actually listens when I talk. Check. Is affectionate and demonstrates he likes me. No check. Fun dates pass and when we part I’m left with two good hugs and an inner seething anger and resentment toward this seemingly nice guy. Does he just want to be my friend? Wasting my time.

What does it say about me that I’m irritated by a guy who wants to talk to me and get to know me? It’s suspicious behaviour I tell you. I suffer from an affliction called “can’t-we-just-get-this-over-with”. The beginning days of a relationship are not fun and exciting. They are stressful and annoying. I just want to know if the boy likes me. If not, fine. I move on.

Here’s what the problem is. Are you “romancing” me or are you just wasting my time till some other chick comes along. Cuz really I don’t have time for that shit. I prefer straight-up. If you are just after the goodies then best be telling me up front. Don’t pretend to want to be my boyfriend and date me. Wasting my time.

Hmmmm.... if I really think about it boys just really can’t win. If they are all over me immediately, I’m turned off; if they aren’t all over me, I’m suspicious. Whatever. Man up.

I ain't no sugar momma boy

In the sadly continuing theme of cheap men I date, there is this first date. After being hunted down and chased like a deer in fall, I agreed to a date with the young and determined one. I live outside of the city so I tend to cut dates some slack when it comes to transportation issues. So until he can figure out the bus schedule I pick him up. I am not thanked. In conversation he is refreshingly honest. “I’m a full-time student right now, working only part-time. I don’t have lots of money to go out on dates and to buy you things.” Hmmmmm okay I’m thinking. I like that he’s being upfront and honest. There are lots of things we can do for free in the summer. Points. Then he opened his mouth again: “will you buy me things?” I must have mis-heard him. A few too many rums. “WHAT?” I ask rather incredulously. If he was smart, he would have corrected himself regardless. “Will you buy me things?” he repeated. “You would pay for me at the movies right?” What can I say? There was no second date. That boy had balls though. I’ll give him that.

I got this

Remember that episode of Sex and the City when Samantha got really sick and her curtains fell down in her fab loft? None of her dozens of men would come to help her. So obviously she decides she will likely die alone. Yea, I get that. So I sprain my ankle. How? I fell off my heels. Seriously it happens. Don’t laugh. No, I was not drunk. I wish. It would make for a better story. I was shopping. It is a sport. Thank you no one for believing me. Sooooo as result of my fashion injury I’m trapped in my own home. Crawling around for food and water. This is one of the few times being fabulously independent and single really bites to be honest. In life imitating art, none of my men can be bothered to come to my aid. So much for the theory that men want to rescue us. So, I do what any girl would do. Have food delivered, read Fifty Shades of Grey and shop online. Problem solved. And thanks to my reading, the next boy who comes over will most definitely come again.

Are your fingers broken?

Major male pet peeve. Why can’t men return women’s messages in a timely fashion? The waiting is pure torture for us. It occupies our every waking thought. Distracts us at work. Interrupts our sleep. Sucks the joy out of shopping. Then we are forced to inflict our pain/worry/insane delusions on all of our friends. Dissecting the last convo over and over again searching for some clue of where it all went wrong. What did he mean by “hi”? Why not “hey”? That’s more normal right? When he said “talk later”, how much later? That day? A week? Was he with another girl? Bastard. EXHAUSTING. The only acceptable reasons for not answering include: he is dead in a ditch; in a coma; or broke all of his fingers. Even then he can dial with his nose. Seriously.

This is what you MUST do guys. Take the 5 seconds it takes to answer us. Really. Minimal effort here is required. Sometimes any throwaway phrase will do such as: “Miss you. Call you later”. Then we are pacified. Happy. We smile, cock our head to the side and think, he likes me. You are golden.

Ze truth

One of my favourite boys that I think of fondly, without murderess thoughts or raging regret, is my fun-French-fling. He was dreamy. He had a sexy accent, education, cool clothes, fast car, was tall and could pull-off a scarf in summer in a manly way. I was rambling about my clothes, hair, nails or something that costs me a ton of money and time. Instead of bashing me as most un-informed men would - lets not pretend that being a girl doesn’t require a ridiculous amount of maintenance – I digress. He looked me straight in the eye and with his sexy accent said: “you’re not high maintenance. You just take care of yourself”. Boom. Truer words I have never heard. This man got women. I loved him just a little at that moment.

Does this look like the Olive Garden?

This is first in a series of posts about men who ask / demand me to cook for them. Let me be clear. I am not averse to cooking for my man. In fact, I can be highly domesticated when motivated. The better part of my adult life has been spent packing lunches, making dinners and throwing dinner parties in the name of love.

No love here, but the hope of love, so really almost better than love. After what can only be described as a typical, relatively unexciting, weeknight date I start to yawn. Then, exaggeratingly yawn coupled with: “boy I’m beat! Long day ahead at work tomorrow” (hint, the date is over buddy time to go home). Slow or unwillingly to take the hint, boy is invited to sleepover. Key word here being sleep.

2am I am wrenched from my beauty sleep by tossing and turning.

“Ok?” I say (totally annoyed. If you couldn’t sleep at least have the decency to stay very very still as I was sleeping soundly. Thank you).

“I’m hungry.”

Silence (so what do you want me to do about it).

“Do you have any meat and pasta???”

“I have snacks. Go ahead and look in the kitchen.”

‘No, I’m REALLY hungry. I need meat and pasta to fill me up. I’m not going to be able to sleep until I eat something heavy” (it is now clear to me he wants ME to GET UP and go into the kitchen at 2am on a weeknight to make him a goddamn Sunday dinner).

“Then you should probably go home.”

And he did. Last date. I should have known when on the fist date he exclaimed: “when are you going to cook like that for me woman?!.” Red flag! Red flag!

Muppet, not a man

Boy meets girl. Boy asks girl on date. Yummy Thai dinner. Earth doesn’t move, but meh. I could do that again. It wouldn’t kill me. He was nice. I remind myself, nice is good.

Boy asks girl on second date. Classic movie date. PG13. No brainer. Seriously. 12 year old boys pull this night off with ease. What could possibly go wrong? Well.

Scene: giddily holding hands at the ticket booth all ready to pay the $19.90 for two.

Boy: glances at girl, “you’re gonna get that, RIGHT.” (walks away)

Girl: stunned silence. Followed by shock and awe while paying. Girl looks around. Did anyone else just hear that shit?

Wisely, he did not ask for popcorn.

And the girl's desire to ever let the boy touch her that night vanishes. It’s not that she paid. I’m all for equality and paying my own way. It’s that he didn’t even bother to ask. There was no request. No: “I got dinner last date, do you mind getting this?”; or “my dog ate my wallet, can you get this?” He stated.

That small monetary gesture would have gone a long way to the girl believing she was with a gentleman (and maybe to him getting more than a stiff hug at the end of the night) but I digress.

Little boys go home alone

Let’s talk about boys who are keeping their options open. Avoid them. They may disguise themselves as awkward, shy and clueless. Awwww so endearing you think. They are none of those things. That’s their game. Real men go after women they attracted to. They wanna nail that shit down. Boys hedge their bets. Juuust in case. They work the room like they are the man, but they almost always go home alone. They are the boy. Don’t get me wrong, boys aren’t bad guys, they just have some growing-up to do. Pick-up the wing man. The guy who kinda hangs back a bit. Who is not completely hammered. You’ll recognize the wing man as he is often seen smirking while shaking his head at his friend. He is the real man.

Then, thank the boy for having such manly friends.

"Man"ipulation

By special request: “how to manipulate men through BBM statuses”. This is a fine and effective art that is far too underutilized in my view. This works for a variety of situations: making exes jealous, messaging to a new man, etc, you see where I’m going.

Helpful how to status hints:

1. Be completely and utterly vague. The crap the male mind can dream up is waaaay more detailed and devastating then anything you can write.

2. Use symbols. A heart, hug or kiss will have him wondering who the eff you are sleeping with.

3. Use leading phrases. My personal favourite. This one is warranty guaranteed. You are simply leading him down a road of jumping to conclusions. You are happy! Enthusiastic! “And so it begins!”, “big things popping!” and anything with the word change: “a time of change!” Worriesome.

4. A new hot pic. You are sexy, fun and doing amazingly interesting things. It also never hurts to have a slice of a man in the pic. A blurry face, half a body, buff arm, merely suggests you may, or may not be, with a handsome, successful MAN not boy.

WARNING: Use sparingly or you run the risk of it being painfully obvious that the craziest part of your Saturday night is the new flavour of Smartfood and a Channing Tatum movie (we have all been there).

Warning. This is a rant. It is a crime against fashion. I will only say this once I promise.
Leggings. Are. Not. Pants. 
I don't care if you are wearing a garbage bag on top, just as long as it covers your ass and your legging camel toe. Think of it as a public service.
Not pants ladies. Not.

I've kinda shocked myself in deciding to write a blog. But if shit can happen, it is going to happen to me. After hearing my friends say for the hundredth time, "you've gotta write this shit down" or "you really should write a book". I thought what the hell. So this is me, a single, smart, hot girl in the city (I know, I love Carrie, so don't judge), and all the crap that happens when I'm not shoe shopping.

PS lots of love to the fabulous brunette without which this blog would not be possible. *hugs*

PPS apologies in advance to my friends. I will totally blog about your dating lives. Of course, protecting the identities of the beautiful.