Hello, 2013, I didn’t see you there…

Seems like everybody is doing a year in review post; I did that a few months ago and not much has changed so I’m not doing it again. Sorry? You’re welcome? But here’s my attempt at getting one more post in before the end of the year.

A few weeks back, a friend of mine informed me that his girlfriend booked four hotel rooms downtown for NYE and got a pretty good fricken deal. Three out of the four were taken and the fourth was mine if I wanted it. I was trying to justify the expense (even though it’s a good deal, for NYE, it’s still half a pile of money after all) and I realized that most people I know are couples that will be doing a couple thing, or else don’t drink much. Since I also have a nightbus that runs all night and practically drops me off at my house, I wasn’t sure if it was worth the price.

My stepmom told me otherwise. She was convinced it was going to be the bestest time ever and I couldn’t let the opportunity pass me by. I told my friend that I would take the room. I started getting excited and started inviting people. I knew that most of them would say “Sounds like fun – I’ll call you!” and never hear from them. I was okay with that.

A few days later, my friend informed me that the rate his girl is getting is because she’s a government employee. The non-employee rate is almost 3x that amount, which no one in their right mind would pay, unless they had 8 people staying in the room, splitting the cost. Which I don’t.

I’m welcome to come on down and party (doin’ the hotel room hop) but I’ll have to find my way home at the end of the night. Not a bad deal. Especially since that was my first option anyway. Now I’m realizing that I should’ve pre-purchased my NYE booze – the liquor store will be insanely busy by the time I get there tonight. I don’t know what I was thinking.

Have a happy new year everyone and I’ll see you in 2013!

That White Girl’s a party crasher… apparently

A few weeks back I decided to hit the pub on my way home from dance. I ended up running into a few people that I knew and before I knew it, I was drunk. It’s weird how that happens when you drink a lot of alcohol in a short amount of time.

Even though I was done and wanted to go home, one of my friends wanted to keep the party going and was looking for a way to find/purchase more alcohol. There was no way possible. At that moment, I looked across the street and saw some sort of club open; there was loud music, flashing lights, people dancing. Since I’m easily talked into things, I suggested we try it out.

Long story short, I ended up going in alone while one of the guys made sure the other guy got home okay. Due to the level of my intoxication, I didn’t care if I was being ditched and went straight in with little to no hesitation. When I entered the room, I realized that it was a Latin dance party. Just my scene… bring it!

I was approached shortly after my (not so) subtle entrance; I asked the person if I was able to purchase alcohol. They pointed me in the direction of the owner; I approached the owner and she told me that it was actually a private party; they weren’t selling alcohol. Being the proactive person I am, when it looked like she might ask me to leave, I beat her to it:

Which is true. And also… not true. It’s true I’ve seen him before. But I’ve never talked to him. The dude, let’s call him Slick, naturally, wondered where I knew him from and I told him I knew him from the salsa clubs. It was a believable story, so he got me a beer while his friend danced with me. I was sitting down drinking my free beer when Slick asked me to dance. He wanted me to elaborate on our “knowing” each other.  Busted, you got me!

Luckily he was okay with it. After a little bit, my friend came back to get me. He didn’t even make it in the door before he was told to leave. Since the eight guys were making eyes at me and the seven girls were shooting hate daggers at me, I thought it was best if I quit while I was ahead and left the party to meet my friend.

The following week, I went to the salsa club. I looked over at one point and guess who was standing there. Slick. After we mutually made eye contact, I approached him and we started talking; he said that I looked different. I asked how, he said he wasn’t sure. He asked me if I was drunk.

He asked me if I was drunk last week.

I guess that was it; suddenly he wanted me to drink. When I told him that I was driving, he said that I should know someone that lives nearby so that I could spend the night at their place. He lives three blocks away. Convenient. I declined his offer to spend the night at his house, in his bed, even though he said “nothing would happen”. I didn’t believe him.

We danced; it was late, he was drunk and he kissed me. And that’s how I ended up making out with a dude named Slick in the middle of the dance floor of the salsa club.

Times like these make me wish I could blame my poor decisions on alcohol. Alas… no. Dammit.

“Santa” is an asshole… and so am I

A few weeks back I came across a funny ecard on facebook, so I shared it on my wall.

I believe my caption was “Glad I’ve been good”. My mom saw the post and commented saying something along the lines of “I’m sure you’ll get a CD”. I responded with “Mommmmmmm. Noooooooooooo!”.

Fast forward to yesterday. I received my Christmas package in the mail from my mom. In it, was a present from “Santa”.

And yes, I am 32 years old.

I burst out laughing because, if you can’t tell by the picture, it’s very CD-shaped. So I took a picture, posted it on facebook and tagged my mom to get a reaction out of her. I also tagged “Nickelback sucks A$$” in the same picture.

All at the same time, my mom sends me an email:

Mom: The package is at your front door.

TWG: Thanks – I got it!

Mom: You can open the one from Santa…

TWG: I’m pretty sure I already know what it is.

Mom: Really?

TWG: Yes!

Mom: How?

TWG: … … I tagged a picture of you… (keeping in mind this was all in the FB inbox)

Mom: You did! LOL

*she calls me because emailing isn’t good enough*

Mom: I saw your picture! It’s cute!

TWG: Thought you’d like it.

Mom: But how do you know what it is??

TWG: Did you see who else was tagged in the photo?

Mom: No…. … hold on, I’ll look … … …. Nickelback Sucks… Oh.

I could hear the disappointment in her voice.

Not only is “Santa” an asshole, I just ruined Christmas for my mother. Shit.

Well… Shit.

I posted pictures on my facebook account of my trip to Thailand. Within an hour of posting, Thailand liked one of them. Other people like the same picture, but the other people aren’t the ones I chose to focus on, now are they?

No. I spent the next hour (or more) overanalyzing everything in life. Why would you like my picture when you haven’t spoken to me in months? I was practically done thinking of you, why’d you have to ruin it by looking at my things and liking them? When did I turn into a crazy girl?

I was having a hard time sleeping because overanalyzing really takes up a big part of your brain, so I got up to get some water. As I was passing my computer, I decided it would be a good idea to send him an email. I guess you could say I wasn’t thinking clearly.

I logged onto facebook and typed up a message:

I went to Thailand!

I stared at it. I decided that nothing good could come from it, that there was no point in sending it and that clearly I have lost my mind. I mean, it’s not like he was extending an olive branch, or doing anything to show that things had changed… I highlighted the message and was about to hit delete when I dropped my laptop off the top of my lap. It crashed to the floor. I was very concerned; it hit the ground hard, I wanted to make sure it was okay.

I opened the (now shut) lid and found that the screen was intact and even turned on. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw next. My heart sunk.

In my attempt to save my computer from impact, I must have hit keys. I must have clicked somewhere.

I hit send.

I closed my laptop and went to bed with an increasing feeling of doom. I fell asleep almost immediately. I guess shock will do that do you. My eyes cracked open in the morning and my first thought was “Fuck. I sent him an email. I. Sent him. An email.” Something I never intended to do, aside from that 30 seconds of delirium I experienced the night before. I intended to walk out of his life and never walk back in. I intended to never think of him again. I guess I didn’t live up to my intentions.

I decided it was okay. Much like my text message, I would receive no response. I could easily pretend like it never even happened. I bet I could even convince myself that I was really drunk, or high on peyote, and imagined it all. Peyote will do that to you every time, right?

I went about my morning, casting nervous sidelong glances at my computer, but never looking directly at it. Because that will change things. Eventually I opened my computer and went about my routine of checking email accounts. I logged onto facebook and saw 18 notifications. Oh, the “popularity” of 3 people liking 6 of your pictures. And one email. Well… Shit.

Thailand 1.2

So, picking up where we left off in Part 2… We got back to Bangkok, we saw some temples, we went shopping, we went home. The End.

Boring, right? Now, on to the anecdotes!!

After we left Bangkok the first time, I held some resentment. Between the heat, the humidity, the cars, the dirt, the lack of palm trees, the smell…. Let’s just say I wasn’t that happy in Bangkok. My resentment may or may not have consisted of:

My friend didn’t really get it. She kept saying “It’s not that bad. I like it”. When we got there the second time, she looked around with a disgusted look on her face and said “Is it just me, or did this place get dirtier since the last time we were here?”. No. It’s exactly the same!!

When we left Bangkok the first time, we were on our way to the airport with a taxi driver that didn’t know much English and was money-hungry. Bad combo. Let’s just say that a misunderstanding occurred that led us to believe that he was out to rob us and led him to believe that we weren’t going to pay the highway tolls to the airport. Long story short, for a brief moment we were pretty sure he was taking us away to murder us, but he ended up dropping us off at our (already checked out of) hotel. We had to get another taxi. Which doesn’t sound nearly as terrifying as it was.

A nice helpful lady at the DMK airport helped us get a shuttle and ferry from the Surat Thani airport to Koh Samui. We paid 650 Baht for the 3+hour trip (just over $30 CDN), we found out that our airline had coupons for 350B for the same trip. All in all, we paid $10 CDN more than other people, but the person I was with made it seem like we paid $1000 more than other people. She kept bringing it up and bringing it up… Over. And over. Again. It wasn’t too far into the trip where I thought it might be easier to just give her the 300B that we overpaid rather than hear about it the rest of the time. I’m white. You get ripped off when you’re in Thailand with ThatWhiteGirl. I’m sorry. Get over it.

Going to the beach one day and I had to wait around for half an hour while my friend put her makeup on. To go to the beach. So that we could go swimming.

That’s what swimming looks like when you’re trying to keep your perfectly manicured face above water. Clearly I’m not that girl.

Even though my friend is pregnant, she wanted to “party all night” a few times, which consisted of us going out and around midnight her yawning and saying “I’m tired”. Safe to say, that I didn’t overdrink and/or make poor decisions. Which is why this trip was so unlike me.

Yes, that’s a tea cup… I was trying to portray that I’m all proper and shit. I’m sorry. I know you expect more from me. Don’t worry I’ll go back to Mexico soon!

I got sunburned on a cloudy day. I’m not surprised… why was everyone else?

I didn’t eat any weird shit. I was scared of getting sick and anytime I found some street food that I was willing to put in my mouth, my friend was like “30B… Is that safe??”. My adventure-meter declined significantly and it doesn’t have that large of a scale to begin with.

In Bangkok the second time, we found this night bazaar that had so many strip clubs nearby that we were accosted like a million times for ping pong shows and whatnot. I was like “Soooo… you wanna go??” and she was like “But what if they put ping pong balls in weird places????”

She wouldn’t have any of it. So, I didn’t get to see ping pong balls shoot out of vaginas. I’m sorry.

We did a tour in Bangkok the second time around. But our tour was self-hosted, so we pretty much found a tuk-tuk driver that was willing to drive us around. It ended up being too cheap to be true. He kept taking us to these “stores” that we didn’t want to shop in. And when we came out 3 minutes later, he was like “Stay longer next time!”. Turns out, he gets coupons for gas if he takes tourists to stores, but only if they seem interested. We told him we didn’t want to shop, we wanted to see temples, so he dropped us off at the next temple and then ditched us. It took us almost an hour to find an available taxi/tuk-tuk.

I think that’s about it. I’m sure there’s like a million more stories, but you’ll get bored and so will I. So let’s quit while we’re ahead, shall we?

Adventures in online dating–part 2

I’d like to interrupt my Thailand post sequence with a little update on my online dating adventures.

I met him online several weeks ago. Let’s call him Vegas. He seemed like a nice, normal guy (all the good stories start out like this, don’t they?). Very soon after connecting with him online, he went away for a week in Vegas; we met for the first time upon his return. Very soon after our first meeting, I left for Thailand. We met for the second time after I got back.

The first date was pretty typical: met for coffee, went for a walk. Vegas was pretty easy to talk to, not unattractive and despite some very obvious differences, we had a few things in common.

After our first meeting, he texted constantly; even going so far as writing “Busy??? *sad face*”  when I didn’t respond quickly enough. And then of course, the “I missed you”s that go along with a two-week hiatus from a girl you went out for coffee with once.

Like I said, we had some pretty obvious differences and he was always checking to see if I was okay with them. I found it strange, but thought that maybe he’d been involved with girls before where these things were deal breakers, so I told him they were things I was willing to look past/work through/be open to. All things considered I was trying to ignore this nagging thought.

Our second meeting took place one night after he got off work; he suggested we “chill and watch a movie”, being that I was still adjusting to this time zone, I told him I’d fall asleep immediately watching a movie and suggested meeting up at a restaurant. He said he was wearing his work coveralls and didn’t want to go into a restaurant. I asked what he suggested to do. He said he suggested watching a movie at my house. I said that wasn’t going to happen, blaming it on my house being a mess from my trip. Not a lie, but not the main reason either.

We ended up going for coffee, but Vegas quickly realized that he’d misplaced his bank card and since I didn’t want coffee at 11pm, I didn’t offer up to pay. Instead we drove around for a bit and went to a park and chatted.

Our third meeting was much of the same as the second; his suggestion of “chilling” at my place was shot down and my suggestion of going to an establishment was also shot down. We again drove to a park and chatted. This was the first time he kissed me. I hold a lot of weight with the first kiss, yet I try and convince myself it’s not a big deal when it doesn’t go well.

Note to guys: If you’re going in for an open-mouth kiss, do not start with an open-mouth. Especially the first kiss – different rules may apply if we’re currently having sex. The sequence should be: closed mouth, open mouth, tongue action, closed mouth. End of kiss. I don’t know what to do with open mouth approaching my face with a tongue hanging out. It’s awkward at best.

Since our meetings had been after one of us had gone on a trip, a lot of our conversations revolved around the trips and travelling in general. Vegas, as you can imagine, loved going to Vegas; he’d been there five times in the past year and a bit. I have never been, but did express an interest in going one day.

A couple days later, I get a text from him: So, I’ve been thinking… we should do a trip together.

Through some back and forth (all of my responses being very non-committal, but also lacking the “what the fuck is wrong with you??” question that was in my head) he decided that we would go to Vegas for a week in March and that we would hammer out dates the next time we saw each other. You know... On our fourth date. Because that’s what normal people do.

I put the brakes on so fast; I’m pretty sure each one of you heard it as I laid a patch of rubber as thick as a speed bump on the pavement.

We tried arranging our next meeting; the sequence went the same as the times before. I realized that he probably doesn’t get out much, since all he wants to do is “chill and relax”. I think he realized that I wasn’t going to let him in my house anytime soon because he got mad and said that he was too tired after work to go anywhere and that we’d “chill” after his inventory count this past weekend.

I didn’t hear from him all weekend, which was fine by me, since I was trying to think of ways of letting him down easy.

He texted me last night; after a bit of back and forth:

Vegas: Are. You still interstead in me

TWG: I haven’t quite decided… I get the feeling that we’re very different people and I’m not sure if we’re compatible, to be honest.

Vegas: Me too. I don’t think if sexually compitatble or not… I have super high sex drive

TWG: Good that we’re on the same page! (even though I was questioning how he knows if we’re sexually compatible or what my sex drive is like after 3 dates… but whatever)

Vegas: I don’t wanna. Waste my time

TWG: Fair enough!

End scene.

 

You might be wondering what these differences were. Here’s the short list:

Vegas: Brown guy, lives with parents

TWG: White girl, lives alone

Vegas: Loves “all kinds of music”… except music with actual instruments in them

TWG: Dislikes “all kinds of music” that do not have actual instruments in them

Vegas: “Loves to dance”. But doesn’t do it. Ever.

TWG: Loves to dance. And goes dancing. All the time.

Vegas: Vegetarian

TWG:

Vegas: Doesn’t drink

TWG: