Thursday, 9 October 2014

Good Luck...April

Have you seen the movie "Good Luck Chuck?" If you have...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.

A

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 myself...you 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.

A