Wednesday, 3 December 2014

A little vino + a lonely April...

I got a bit drunk a couple of weeks ago on wine. You're shocked, I know. Wine!? April!? Nooooo...

Oh yes.

Me being tipsy from a few glasses of wine is not newsworthy in itself. That's just your typical evening sitting around a kitchen island with a good friend playing Cards Against Humanity (if you haven't played it yet...order it off Amazon here and play it, you will die laughing), discussing our love lives (in my case, the lack thereof), and laughing at Elf on the Shelf.

Me being tipsy on that particular night led to one of my classic moments of weakness and loneliness. Where, for a moment when I got home and crawled into bed, I succumbed and reconsidered online dating...again. And one thought crossed my mind. Why not?

I have spent the better part of the last four or five years pursuing relationships that were doomed from the beginning. And then I spent a lot of time complaining about being single, living in fear of being alone, and crying because I was repeatedly (apparently) getting my heart broken. Yet I kept going in these dead-end relationships. What did Albert Einstein say about insanity?

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

There you have it folks. I'm insane. I'm quite certain a number of my exes would completely agree with that conclusion.

Why have I been pursuing this insanity for so long? Why do I continually force things that are never going to work from the beginning? Why do I ignore those little nagging voices telling me to stop? Insert epiphany here. I do it - simultaneously - out of loneliness and self-preservation. I've been through enough bullshit and my heart has been sufficiently broken to make me leery (that's putting it fear of opening up and letting someone in grows daily). But I'm also a social, affectionate person. I don't believe I'm programmed to be alone, though I do believe I'm completely fine on my own. So I meet someone, and despite warning flags/bells/whistles/shots, I dive in. And I push. And it inevitably ends; sometimes badly and other times amicably.

So then I considered online dating. Aside from a very brief stint on eHarmony about three years ago, I have only tried Tinder (which was obviously not a raging success but instead another source of procrastination and entertainment). I think I have exhausted every other avenue for dating. I've dated my friends' boyfriends' friends. I've dated my own friends. I've met people through my friends. I've met people in bars, on a resort in Mexico, on a winery in South Africa, and at a homestay in Bali. I've let a couple of my friends set me up. I've even let my mom orchestrate a date with her friend's son. So really, when you think about online dating...why not?

I'll keep you posted ;)


P.S. - I'm currently obsessed with T Swift. Tay Tay. Whatever you want to nickname her, I love her. And whilst writing this post I repeatedly listened to her new single. It seems appropriate.

Tuesday, 18 November 2014

Tinder Trolling...

My new favourite thing on the internet.

I started following this Instagram account, @tindernightmares. They post some horrifyingly hilarious pics of the responses/greetings people get on Tinder. And I like it. I like it a lot (please tell me you read that in Lloyd's voice from Dumb and Dumber...if not, we can no longer be friends). It's fueled my newest way to waste/kill time, also known as procrastinate.

Tinder trolling. I can't get enough of the ridiculous things people post on Tinder to see what people respond with. In fact, once upon a time (when I was still a young girl on Tinder...ok a couple of months ago) I let a visiting British friend and his Aussie mate take control of my Tinder account for the night. It was magical - though apparently the screenshots I took that night were not deemed to be save-worthy because I can't find them anywhere in my iCloud (I'm a skeptical iCloud makes me nervous for things to just be floating in the interweb). Suffice it to say, after a few bottles of wine and far too many pints of beer, Tinder trolling became downright hilarious.

So I challenge you not to check out the following Buzzfeed post (which, so far, is one of my favourite Tinder trolls...aside from the one where someone starts posting the lyrics to Journey's "Don't Stop" and the guy just does not catch on) and not find it hilarious.

You will waste time, and it will be hilariously awesome. You're welcome.


Thursday, 13 November 2014

Baggage and Bullshit

I'm starting a list.

Not quite the kind you're thinking of.

You probably think I'm creating a checklist for the man of my dreams. Tall, handsome, witty, intelligent, sarcastic, thoughtful, considerate, passionate...all excellent qualities. All things I'd want in that man (of my dreams...he currently resides solely in my dreams).

I am creating a list for the man of my dreams...but one about myself instead of about his presently-fictional self. I have my fair share of baggage and bullshit. I am a woman. I am therefore, inherently, somewhat cray cray. Maybe if I was more up front with my particular brand of crazy it would change my dating life (which is currently non-existent guys, not a single fish on the line right now). Maybe the next time I meet someone I should hand over a list of things (traits, habits - bad, and maybe not so bad, quirks, etc) they will potentially face when entering a relationship with me. Maybe it will weed out the guys who are unwilling to put any effort into a relationship; the guys who seem to think they should date supermodels (who always look like supermodels) that will watch sports, drink beer, somehow maintain a fit figure, and give them blow jobs at the drop of a hat (gentlemen, those girls do exist, they just don't always look like supermodels).

Which of the following is going to be (or already is) a deal-breaker for you?

Road rage?
My inability to have my closet organized in any other way than in sections according to clothing type? (Ok I'll admit to being more anal than that...I also arrange things according to colour...yup, deal-breaker.)
My type A personality? (See above, duh.)
Being so lazy after night shifts that I'm lucky if I brush my teeth? (What I like to think of as an intriguing contrast to a closet organized by clothing type and colour...)
Patsy Cline sing-alongs? (In fact, any sing-alongs at all. I have an uncanny ability to memorize the words to songs very quickly...and I love singing. To myself. Mostly in the car.)
My repeated inability to refresh the toilet paper roll after it's run out? (Unless it is within easy reach of me as I sit on the toilet. Then I can put a new roll out.)
The pile of clothes that gathers when I work night shifts because I'm actually too tired to take five seconds and hang things up?
That I'm a complete shop-a-holic? (As a strong supporter of the local economy I fail to see how this could actually be a negative.)
Infertility? (You can have a family with me but it's definitely not going to come about the easy way - more about that in a later post. Way, way later.)
Binge-watching Netflix episodes of Party of Five, Suits, Lost, House of Cards, and/or House of Lies?
My love of country music and my accompanying small obsession with Garth Brooks? (There will also be Garth Brooks sing-alongs, generally after my BFF, Beansy, and I have drank too much wine. You will need to get used to that. Don't worry, her husband is itching for me to have a boyfriend that he can commiserate with over a dram of whiskey.)
Occasional insecure moments that will require you to provide a little extra assurance that you actually want to hang around for more than just the version of me all dolled-up and out on the town pretending to be a completely self-assured 30-something woman? (Every woman you meet is going to require this at some point, don't fool yourself.)

There's more. So much more. Who (if they're truly being honest with themselves) doesn't have a ton of baggage and bullshit? What would happen if we all just laid it bare right at the start?

"Hi, my name is April. Here's a list of all the baggage I carry with me and a few of my quirks, please review it. My number is at the bottom, if you're still interested in me after reading it, give me a call!"

The older I get (and I'm 32 years old so I can start sentences like that), the less interested I am in hiding the parts of me I used to be afraid to show others, especially guys. I could just be up front about everything, and guys can start being up front about their intentions and their own bullshit. Oh, it bothers you that I can't conceive children naturally? Well, fuck-you-very-much and goodbye. You just want someone around in Saskatoon who you can have sex with but not actually have any responsibility to? Um, no. That just won't do. Oh you were in a relationship for 13 years with your elementary and high school sweetheart and she dumped you two months before the wedding and you're still reeling from that? Well it was nice to meet you, but I'd rather find someone who won't crush me by being the most amazing person I've met in five years who will suddenly decide he's not ready to move on from his ex-fiance.

I just had a vision of how a person would incorporate all of the aforementioned list into one date. One date, immediately after I leave work from a night shift, where I pick the guy up, drive him to my house (all the while raging about people's inability to merge properly and singing along to Patsy Cline and Garth Brooks) where he would see my disaster of a room juxtaposed with my impeccably arranged closet and shoe collection. Inevitably, he would have to go to the bathroom, where (if it was number 2) he would find himself stranded on the toilet with nothing but a skiff of toilet paper on the otherwise bare roll. Surely, this would take some time for him to figure out, so I would be in my room, stewing about why he's taking so long which would lead to me question his every thought when he finally emerged with some less-than-clean underwear. We'll settle on the couch to watch a full season of Lost (because he hasn't fled the scene...yet) and he might try and get a little closer and then he'll get it. The full blast of my terrible breath as I had yet to brush my teeth. And that just seals the deal-breaker.


Thursday, 9 October 2014

Good Luck...April

Have you seen the movie "Good Luck Chuck?" If you will appreciate this post more. If you haven't...well, I'd say go watch it but that's a solid hour and a half of your life you won't get back, so here's the trailer:

At first glance, the whole premise of the movie is ridiculous. Charlie (Dane Cook) is cursed by some goth princess in high school - he will always be the guy a woman dates before she meets the man of her dreams. Women realize this and start to think he's a good luck charm, a surefire way to meet their future husband! Of course (being the male that he is), Charlie sleeps with a bunch of chicks to make their dreams come true but ends up meeting Cam (Jessica Alba), the woman of his dreams. Somehow he breaks the curse and Charlie and Cam walk off into the sunset together (insert alternate cliche ending to a Hollywood love story here). I'm a little fuzzy on the details and I can't remember how Charlie breaks the curse as I haven't seen the movie since 2008. I was going to watch it as research for this post, but like I said, that's an hour and a half of my life I wouldn't get back.

Now brace yourself...the premise is ridiculous and the movie was a total flop...but I just realized I'm the female version of Charlie. I'm a good luck charm for the guys who date me. I haven't exploited this...yet (I'm not a player...wait, can girls be players? Or are we just referred to as sluts? If so, what a double standard). But with the evidence I'm about to put forth...well, it appears I'm sunk. I'm cursed. Am I always going to be the woman a guy dates before he finds his one true love? (I know this sounds comical, but listen...when you're single and trying to figure things out, you come up with some interesting theories...)

Case #1: I dated R for about seven months, it was long distance, and after basically proposing to me (who sits in a church at a wedding, turns to their girlfriend, and asks when they should get married but somehow thinks that's not a big deal?) and taking me ring shopping...he dumped and crushed me. On the phone. By saying he didn't want to be in a relationship anymore (*cough* bullshit). Three months after we broke up, he had impregnated his new girlfriend (conveniently of three months) and they moved in together. Now they're married.

Case #2: T and I dated for about four or five months. Again, it was long distance. I spent a few weeks of the summer we dated working in a city closer to him. He freaked out. Despite the fact that I had signed a lease on an apartment in Saskatoon he felt I was pushing things forward. He took me on a weekend trip to Winnipeg (posh destination, I know) and broke up with me on the drive home (note: I had to drive another two and a half hours home after he broke up with me...sobbing about a break up is an effective way to excuse yourself from a speeding ticket). T is now married to the girl he started dating about a week after we broke up (pretty quick turnaround, right?).

Case #3: I dated H for a couple of months before Christmas one year. Not exactly sure what happened at the end but he decided that he was missing "that spark" and felt the need to tell me that via text while we were trying to make plans to meet up on Boxing Day. So that ended that. H promptly started dating his now long-time girlfriend and they moved in together.

Case #4: I had a fling with my friend's boyfriend's friend, C. I believe my thought was that (despite knowing he did not want anything serious) C would change his mind once he spent some time with me and our casual fling would turn into a more serious relationship (I have no words for how delusional I must have been to think that. Seriously. WTF April. A fuck buddy turning into a relationship is the unicorn of relationships). We're still friends (because we're adults and we dealt with things as such) and he is now engaged to a lovely (but I think kind of crazy) lady.

Case #5: A and I dated for a couple of months last fall. Things were going well, he came on a snowboarding trip with my friends and I...and he just was not the same guy on the trip as the one I started dating. He turned into a massive jerk (he even started a fight with my friend's boyfriend). We got back from the trip and I never heard from him again. He lives on the same street as my parents (see, Saskatoon is such a small town) so I see him from time to time. He's got a new live-in girlfriend.

With the exception of two other relationships (both of which, I'm sure, will be the subjects of posts to come as they've had a hand, in their own ways, in my undoing) these are the major dating stints I've had in the past five-ish years. Five relationships. Five break-ups. Five guys who met their current girlfriends/fiances/wives right after me.

I'm doomed.

Gentlemen, you're welcome.


P. S. -  I'm aware this sounds crazy. I'm also aware that having a solid week off of work has allowed me to ruminate on this theory a little too long. Also, I'm aware that I'm kind of crazy. All women are crazy (don't deny it...if you're denying it right now you're lying to yourself because we have a little bit of crazy lurking somewhere in there). But it's kind of funny and completely disheartening at the same time. Whose good luck charm will I be next?

Monday, 6 October 2014

Dierks Nails It (Listen to the song and you'll know the feeling)

Every now and then you come across a song that just nails it. It captures a moment, a feeling, a loss, a yearning...and it captures it perfectly. Anyone who's ever wanted someone so badly...someone who is so bad for you, yet you can't seem to escape them and what's more, you almost don't even want to, despite how much damage has been done. Anyone who's felt like that...

This song is for you.

Thursday, 2 October 2014

The Fade Out and the Fuck Off Already

So. I've been avoiding you. I know, I know. I go on two first dates, dangle a second date in front of you like a carrot....and then I stop contact all together. Funny, that's exactly how it went with my two Tinder dates. We just stopped talking. I forgot to send a reply to the "so that was fun, let's try it again sometime" messages and then before I knew it, a week had gone by. And then I felt silly for being so forgetful, and I took the easy way out. I never sent a reply. Bad April, bad bad April. Can't very well lecture guys on the fade out if I pull that bullshit myself, now can I?

It got me thinking about the ease of texting, the fade out, and the occasional urge to tell someone to fuck off, but in a really nice way. And how texting can make that all blow up in your face.

So I met this guy (famous first words) last summer before I left to Indonesia...we started off exchanging Facebook messages while we were both out one night, and this progressed to exchanging numbers, meeting up that night, and sitting in the car until 6 am outside my place, talking (I'm not trying to preserve my decency by denying we had raunchy car sex, I'd tell you if we had raunchy car sex...we just talked). I later learned the guy (let's call him Tad, a seriously under-valued name) could not make a move unless he was adequately hammered. Our "relationship" (a very generous description, hence the quotations) started via text. It continued with another late night rendezvous that resulted in some solid making out and one movie date, after which Tad hugged me. (A fucking hug...I'm leaving for a six week trip and you hug me?) We messaged a few times during my trip and he did drunkenly confess he liked me, but when I returned home...nothing. There were messages with good intentions of another date...but nothing. We mutually faded each other out. Which was fine. Except Tad apparently had a lot more invested in me than I ever invested in him...and he electronically rose from the depths with a vengeance. The fade out backfired and instead I found myself wanting to tell him to fuck off...without actually saying "Fuck off!" since Saskatoon is sometimes a very small city (really just a bigger version of a small prairie town, you could play six degrees of separation with just about anyone and find a connection without ever reaching the sixth degree), and I don't always like being a bitch.

Tad suddenly decided he missed me terribly (we had barely ever spent time together), that I was his dream girl (again, we barely saw each other), and he could not understand why I did not want to see him again, much less why I wasn't interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with him (could it be the millions of texts where I had to explain and re-explain that I was either seeing someone or basically just not that into you!?). To be fair, we had briefly reconnected this summer and had a couple of chill hang outs that led to some decidedly not-so-chill make outs...but ultimately I realized if I was carving out time for Netflix before carving out time for Tad, well...there's your sign. Also, he started to act like a needy teenage girl. Ew (everyone go watch this Jimmy Fallon skit, now). Eventually I was able to get across to him that it just wasn't going to happen. Except I'm still getting occasional "Hey, what's up?" messages (seriously!!!???). I tried to have a friendly conversation with him once and ultimately he brought the convo around to us dating and I had to explain, again, why I wasn't interested. Double ew.

And then I had an epiphany. It was the texting. There was a lot of messaging when we first met because Tad was working out of town, and instead of us having a real date, we texted. And Tad did what I've been guilty of start to create a relationship with someone because you find yourself messaging, constantly. There's a perceived veil of anonymity that shields you from feeling exposed by what you say, despite your pen pal knowing exactly who you are. Suddenly you can have these seemingly deep, intense conversations - all the while bypassing the intimacy inherent in those conversations (if they were held face-to-face or even over the phone). So you start to feel a connection, even if it is a little lop-sided (because let's face it, there is almost no way to convey subtext in a text message...sarcasm, amongst other things, does not always translate well in texts, and none of you have delivered on my repeated requests for a sarcasm font...for shame). To top it off, texting is easy. Tossing out a "What's up?" text is effortless, having the guts to pick up the phone, dial a number, and call someone - well that's a far more daunting task.

I promise, I haven't climbed on my high horse. I don't think I'm above anyone when it comes to using texting as a primary means of communication...because it is my primary means of communication. The whole situation with Tad made me realize how much I value an actual face-to-face (shit, even a phone) conversation. Tad never, ever called me to set up a date - strike one in my books. Somehow, when it comes to texting, it seems like there's no responsibility attached to it. You can fade someone out, tell them to fuck off, or confess your undying love and that anonymity comes striding in to save the day. Instead of feeling guilty for blowing someone off (or bashful for confiding your innermost feelings), you feel...well, you probably feel nothing. Perhaps a hint of guilt for not taking the bull by the horns, but I know from personal experience it's easier to justify the fade out (or the plain old fuck off) via text because, after all, it's just a text.


Sunday, 24 August 2014

The Low Down (aka Give Phil Dunphy a Chance)

I decided to wait on filling you in about the Tinder dates until I had gone on both of them. I feel like since I went on two dates, they're automatically set up to be compared, and since I'm not sure I can actually date two guys at once, I figured one would cancel the other out somehow. I was wrong. They were equally...nice (I'm using the word nice here as a euphemism for "completely underwhelming"). Crap.

I've been fortunate in my years of singleness - I've never really had a bad date. I've had some that were boring, uneventful, maybe a little awkward, but never a date I would classify as awful. These dates lived up to that standard. 

Date #1, lunch with J, was fine. Nice guy, decent conversation, similar interests, bit of a bland sense of humour, but overall not a bad time. There was some awkwardness when the bill came...I'm about to crush the feminist agenda in one fell swoop here, I'm kind of old fashioned. You're a guy, you asked me out, and you have a good-paying job. You pay. I don't have a problem pulling my weight in a relationship and paying for my share...but this felt like a stand-off to see who would cave first. I'm also stubborn, so out of almost pure competitiveness I didn't want to give in. And I won. 

Date #2, afternoon drinks with D, turned out to be afternoon tea and sushi, which was nice. Again, nice guy, decent convo, better sense of humour and more sarcastic which is more up my alley, but same thing - it was a nice date. He's better looking than J, or at least I found him more attractive, so I suppose that puts him ahead marginally, but I got into my car feeling I had hyped myself up too I was expecting to enter the restaurant and "bam!" meet the man of my dreams.

I wonder sometimes if I'm waiting for a connection (spark, "Wow!" factor, je ne sais quoi...whatever you want to say) that leads me to have unrealistic expectations when I meet someone. Should nice be enough? Do I give Phil Dunphy a chance? (As one of my BFFs lectured me to do since I apparently need to give nice, nerdy guys a shot...but Phil Dunphy is, well, Phil Dunphy - ridiculously oblivious yet also hilarious - a girl should be so lucky!) Side note: having been a fan of Modern Family for quite some time, I feel like if I came across a truly Phil Dunphy-esque guy, I would certainly give it a go, if for no other reason than he would keep me thoroughly entertained! But I digress...

Does it get any better than this!?
I met someone once who changed everything in terms of what I thought I wanted (and deserved) in a relationship. We had a whirlwind vacation romance while I was traveling in South Africa (he is, or was, a winemaker there). It was honest-to-God love at first sight. I'm a big believer in your gut instincts - mine has always served me well (when I listen to it...) - and when I met gut dropped to the floor and my jaw did as well. He wined and dined me (and confirmed what a dud my recent ex had been in the sack) and I fell in love. Hard. To the point where it crushed me to go home and I wanted to move to South Africa. After a total of two weeks together. Crazy? Absolutely. It was insane. It was also imperfect, coloured by the utopia you create when you're traveling, and it didn't last. What has lingered, even after six years (the last three or four of which we haven't corresponded at all), is that feeling. The feeling when we were introduced as we unpacked our car and dragged our packs into his house - was electric. The English language has no appropriate words to describe it, all I can come up with are inadequate clichés like, "time stood still," "there was only he and I," "my heart stopped,"...blah blah blah. It was breathtakingly amazing, and I still think about him...more often than I care to admit.

There have been some close calls, but no one has ever made me feel exactly that way. I waited a long time...but I've since realized I never will feel like that again, not precisely. That relationship - the entire heart-bursting experience of it - lives in a bubble, protected from reality. I've come to think of it as a once-in-lifetime occurrence...except that I still sometimes feel like I'm waiting. Do I give that feeling up? Is it unrealistic to think that kind of connection will once again come along and knock me off my feet? Does that kind of feeling always instantly ignite? Or do I need to give it time to smolder a little? If so...does that mean that while the two dates I had this past week were...nice...I should pursue a second or third encounter to truly give Phil Dunphy a chance? (However brutal this may sound, as nice as these guys are, they're like a boring version of Phil Dunphy. So they're really not Phil Dunphy at all...soooooo...I shouldn't pursue a second date?)

These are the things swirling in my brain at 4:30 am on a night I give the nice guys another go? Or do I go with my gut? Which is telling me, despite having walked away from nice guys in the past and later wondering if that was right, to politely decline a second date and keep going until someone grabs hold of my heart and won't loosen their grip. The question that always creeps into my mind at this point much longer do I have to wait for someone to grab hold and hang on?


Thursday, 21 August 2014

It's going down...

I'm yelling Tinder!!! (I now present you with a challenge: listen to Ke$ha. And resist inserting Tinder where timber should be in the song. It's impossible. I found a parody called Tinder on YouTube but it was kind of horrible. Me belting it out in the car whilst demonstrating my sick car-dancing moves...well that's possibly just as horrible but waaaaaay more entertaining. No, there will not be a link to a video of that. I'm not that crazy.)

I downloaded Tinder. Again. For about the fourth time. So really, I've re-downloaded it. The original download occurred during a summer patio sesh at a local pub where I was celebrating finally being able to call myself an ICU nurse. It was entertaining...flicking left or right through a bevvy of apparently available single men, getting a little rush of excitement from matching with someone. Then that second of weakness I get when I consider online dating passed, and I decided that Tinder is just as bad as eHarmony or or any other number of dating sites. So I erased it.

Then I had another second of weakness. So I re-downloaded it. And erased it. And re-downloaded it. And erased it. And met an adorable couple who got together through Tinder (and watched that hilarious Conan clip) I had my second of weakness, but actually thought about online dating with a little more scrutiny. And re-downloaded Tinder.

I've decided that Tinder is the laziest, and purest, form of online dating. Allow myself to explain...myself. (How does anyone go through a day and not quote Austin Powers at some point?)

Tinder is lazy. You download the app, connect to your Facebook profile, and voila! Profile created. There are no questionnaires, no surveys, no agonizing over your profile and how to describe yourself (which, if you read my previous post, you know I haaaaaaaaate trying to do). And then all you have to do is flick your thumb right or Or dislike? So easy. Online dating (which seems almost a little lazy to begin with since you do it from the comfort of your home) for the lazy!

Tinder is also...the purest form of online dating. Let's face it. Before you read through the thousand-word essay someone has carefully crafted to describe themselves on eHarmony, you look at their picture. And you pass judgment. You decide whether or not you find the person attractive enough to plow through the rest of their profile, which may or may not add to that initial attraction. Maybe their witty profile is just not enough to make up for the fact that their one and only picture is of them kissing their biceps (or maybe that just adds to their perceived wit and you're down with machismo dudes). Perhaps they are excessively good looking and witty but dammit, there's Crocs in every picture! Let's face it - Crocs are a make-or-break thing. If that's the best pair of shoes you can find for introducing yourself to the online community, we are not meant to be together. So what's the difference between me judging your Crocs on Tinder versus the rest of the online dating venues? (Maybe it's because Tinder is supposed to be the straight version of Grindr and that lends it to having a less-than-favourable perception as a legitimate dating app...) Whether you want to admit it or not, you're going to judge anyone you meet, online or otherwise, by their appearance. When it comes to searching out a romantic relationship is there a point to pursuing someone if you're not physically attracted to them? No. So why not cut out all the mumbo jumbo and just look at someone and decide - swipe right? Or swipe left?

It's possible that I feel the need to justify my download of Tinder, because it was conceived as a hook-up app for straight people. Maybe I'm looking for love in all the wrong places (pretty much par for the course for me really). But after a few weeks of perusing the app and a few convos with potential suitors, I've decided that I like it. People are going to judge me the same way I'm judging them, and so be it. I'm not everyone's cup of tea (I'm kidding, of course I am! Who is actually going to swipe left when they see adorable little old me!? Again - where is that sarcasm font when you need it). If they see something they like, they'll swipe right. If I see the same potential, I'll swipe right too. And when they request a nudie pic and ask if I'm DTF tonight, I'll unmatch them. Or when their opening message is "sup babe." I'm a stickler for grammar. And proper spelling. And don't call me babe, we aren't dating and you've just ensured we will never have sex.

Also, I have more dates scheduled for one day due to Tinder than I have had in total for the past few months. So...there's that.


If Conan and Dave Franco are doing it...

How can I not be?

Answer: Because I keep erasing it from my phone after deciding that it's silly. And then re-downloading it because it's also insanely addicting. And then I erase it again because I come across statements like, "Tinder is a product of the socially isolated times in which we live" in articles like this.

And then I read something encouraging from GQ and I think, well...why not? "After talking to people about their experiences, I realize that to think about marriage is to completely miss the point of Tinder. The app is about the world around you, the people in your immediate vicinity and the desires of a particular moment."

Indeed, GQ. Who knows where a particular moment will take you?


Wednesday, 30 July 2014

To be, or not to

Online dating. This subject keeps coming up in convos with friends, family and co-workers more and more. And I keep refusing the idea more and more. Am I being too dismissive? Should I give in to all those people out there who shared my sentiments of "online dating just isn't for me" but are now on the brink of marrying their one, true online love?

I tried eHarmony once. Maybe it was the hopeful commercials with all those happy couples (there's that sliver of hope clinging to life), maybe it was an act of desperation and loneliness...or maybe it was the discounted three month membership deal that was on...but on a night shift (so probably more out of sheer boredom) I signed up. And then spent four hours of your hard-earned tax dollars (God bless unions!) filling out that bloody questionnaire. What resulted was a mix of middle-aged farmers, 25 year olds (you're 25, what the hell do you need eHarmony for? I've met plenty of 25 year olds so you shouldn't have any trouble meeting them either) and more middle-aged farmers. Is the universe trying to tell me something? Don't get me wrong, I don't mind getting my fingernails dirty and I love (seriously love) country music, but if you put me in any kind of farming equipment it will end up like my grandpa's riding mower did when he let me drive it - in a ditch against a fence. 

Then I realized I could refine my matches. Insert sigh of relief here.

After some relatively witty and intelligent email banter I went on a few dates with an excessively well-built, but sadly, unremarkable gentleman (I was blinded by his arms...nicely defined arms that look capable of pushing you up against a wall in a lutsful moment. I'm now caught in a memory of just such a moment with a great pair of arms that were conveniently connected to a great guy with equally as great abdominal muscles...ooh la la). Unremarkable sounds mean, but I thought at the very least online dating would serve as amusing fodder for the blog I one day planned to start writing (tada!!!!!)...I was wrong.

So with one fell swoop I decided that online dating just wasn't worth the hassle. I think the draw of online dating is supposed to be the ease with which you do it. Except for the questionnaires...I mean, they take a little time. And then you craft your profile. Agonizing over which pictures to include, how to describe yourself with just the right balance of self-deprecation and confidence (or perhaps how to come across as a complete idiot by using the "About Me" section to describe, in detail, your manly skincare regimen - true story) and whether or not anyone will pick up on the obscure Ace Ventura: Pet Detective reference placed just so to showcase your personal brand of humour. Then you match with people and you have to short list those matches. Or you wade through endless singles, judging their pictures and descriptions as you go (chotch...chotch...ooh, look at that, a jacked-up truck in your profile pic, tiny penis and a chotch). I feel I can be just as judgmental in person at a bar (or any other public place of my choosing) and it's more fun checking out guys in a public place and condemning them for their socks and sandals combo than meeting an online prospect who was somehow able to photoshop out the biggest unibrow known to man (Really? Why spend all that time photo-shopping when you could just SHAVE THE UNIBROW!? Or maybe you shaved the unibrow for pictures but then...left it for a date? No, that would just be silly).

But then...I haven't had the greatest luck finding "Mr. Right" on my own (quotations because it's so cliché but I can't think of a better term at 4 am on a night shift). So then every now and then when friends/family/coworkers bring up online dating...I think for a second...maybe I should try it. I have always harboured this fatalistic view that "what's meant to be, will be" but maybe what's meant to be is waiting for me on, eHarmony or hell, even onTinder!? 

Then that second passes. And I think about dating, some of the bullshit experiences I've dealt with over the past five years...the fade outs, the stand ups, the all-around assholes...the list goes on. And I realize that I really don't require an internet service to funnel more bullshit my way - I'm capable of doing that all on my own, and my services are free! So then I reserve to never date online...until that second comes back and I wonder if I'm being too judgmental about online 's a vicious circle.


Friday, 25 July 2014

So this is what it's come to...

Me, a 31 year old single girl in a prairie city that’s more like a small town. The world as my oyster and no relationships on the horizon. And the ever present question…”I just don’t understand, how are you still single?” (Listen, if I and everyone else who's single knew the answer to that precious question, do you think I'd actually still be single?)

I’ve been mainly single for about 5 years, with the occasional blip on the radar that might have lasted a couple of months before the bozo realized he “just didn’t want to be in a relationship” (with me), or, "I've been hurt so badly I don’t think I can ever love again” (correction, you’re a pussy and you’re not willing to take a chance), or – my personal favourite – I get the “fade out.” After a few weeks of daily texts, frequent dates (or hang outs as some people like to call them so you don’t ever feel any real obligation to the other person) and probably a few sessions in the bedroom…nothing. Well, there might be a few scattered texts, but then, nothing (these guys are just as much of a pussy as the guy who thinks he can never love again). Honourable mention goes to the guys who tell me they "just don't feel that spark" with me, you're almost being honest but something tells me there's a hint of bullshit in there.

My friends have always commented that I should write my experiences down. Document and share them. Normally I brush them off...I don’t really think I’m that funny (or am I...? Insert crickets here), nor did I ever realize how many women (and maybe men?) like me there are out there. Over the years, I’ve met some really amazing people that I find myself (for shame!) asking the same question about…how are you still single? These amazing people hate that question as much as I do, and we all share the desire to find "the one" (yup, after five years of duds I still have some tiiiiiiiny semblance of hope in this little heart of mine) but seem to end up only finding (if we're lucky) "the one - for right now."

So here is my documentation.

Welcome to Sex and the Prairie City. I’m not Carrie Bradshaw – I don’t have several pairs of Manolos at my disposal (wistful sigh…one day…), I’m not sure who my Big or Aidan are, and my fashion sense will certainly never compare to hers – but I’m a single girl living in the Paris of the prairies, trying to figure her shit out and now I'm bringing y'all along with me (at this point that means my roommate, my mom, and my amazingly supportive friends...let's hope that number increases).


P.S. - According to Buzzfeed, I'm a total catch. And I believe everything I read on the internet. am I still single? (Seriously, when is someone going to come up with a sarcasm font. This is important people, I'm pretty sarcastic. Patent that shit and get it out there.)