That White Girl’s Alive–Part Two

As I mentioned last time, I’ve had some recent developments in my life. Although, all developments I listed in my last post do not warrant their own post, they do warrant elaboration.

List from last post:

1. I’m still alive

2. Work has been chaos and has been eating up all my time

3. I graduated from school (eeeep!)

4. The Boy moved in (double eeeep!)

5. I lost internet at home for 5 long weeks

6. I just got internet back

1. I am still alive. Unfortunately, I lost my URL because I didn’t have it on auto-renew. Even though that hurts me on the inside, it certainly hasn’t and won’t actually kill me.

2. Work has been busy and will continue to be busy for the next little while but now has a different kind of pressure and deadline. We completed one big project, but now are dealing with the aftermath of it and cleaning up after ourselves. We’re also expecting some auditors in at the end of the year, so we need to be prepared for that and make sure that we in fact adequately cleaned up after ourselves.

3. I graduated from school and this warrants its own post, so I won’t go into any detail now other than to say, I did it.

4. The Boy officially moved in. In the 8 months we’ve been seeing each other, we’ve basically been living together for 5 months. Right around Thanksgiving, he stopped going home much and was spending most of his time here. I eventually gave him a key.

In January, we had the conversation about him officially moving in. It didn’t make sense for him to be paying rent to his room-mate for a place he doesn’t live in and he wanted to be able to help me with the bills instead. So, he gave his room-mate notice and intended to vacate as of March 1st. Over the next few weeks, he slowly started bringing stuff over. As the end of February grew closer, the loads got bigger.

With me being busy at work and not being around to help organize and go through stuff, the boxes simply piled up and remained unopened. Once work slowed down enough that I had an available brain cell, I was overwhelmed by the chaos and was minutes away from completely losing my mind. The Boy may or may not have heard all about it. Multiple times.

I ended up taking the past week off work and we spent most of that time dealing with the chaos, so now the majority of stuff has been sorted, stored, given away etc. The place is starting to resemble a home again instead of this mess:

5. The internet was being provided by my upstairs neighbour. Once the landlord moved out, his cousin moved in and continued to give the tenants internet. Over the years, the other tenants lost their privileges and eventually I was the only tenant left with this grandfathered perk.

When The Boy brought his computers over, I gave him the internet password and he promptly went to town on it. My upstairs neighbour promptly changed the password and I promptly lost my free internet. I called the service provider for my land line and requested internet be added. They had a fantastic bundle that would end up costing me all of $15 more a month.

And then, it took them over 4 weeks to get their shit together; I had to contact them 3 times in order for them to actually ship the modem out. And then I got my bill.

6. Moral of the story, I now have internet, even though it was a pain in the ass and the longest 4.5 weeks of my life. Luckily, I had a work-issued smartphone and was able to pilfer internet access through that data plan.

That basically covers everything from the last post, aside from the graduation, which will soon follow.

Met up with a friend the other day for lunch; the following conversation occurred:

Thanks LC. Although (I hope) you’re right about the lack of terrible dating stories in the future, I sure hope to prove you wrong about being boring and not having any good stories left to tell.

Goings Ons

Where do I begin? Well, the past couple/few months have been a bit of a whirlwind. Between working too much, doing my school project and having a full social calendar, I haven’t had much time to write (well, aside from my school project, that is).

I guess that’s the best place to start. As you may or may not remember, I was having a hard time getting my school project off the ground. I finally got the okay from my professor to quit writing and re-writing my proposal and actually do the project. You could say I was pretty pleased.

In August, I carried out the sampling and then spent the next couple months analyzing the data, researching and writing the paper. I submitted the first draft just about two weeks ago.

After which, The Boy, asked me to come down to the pub for a celebratory drink. Shortly after I arrived, he said something cryptic to the bartender and before I knew it, two champagne flutes were placed in front of me; they were quickly filled with a bubbly nectar.

I was shocked and surprised and, quite frankly, tickled pink. No one has ever done anything like that for me before. I basically swooned right off my chair. When I came to and thanked him for it, he simply said “You did a big thing today; you deserve it”. I didn’t remind him that it was only a first draft and that I haven’t actually graduated yet.

Work has been super busy for the past couple months and will be insanely busy for the next couple months; it will take over my life. The only light at the end of the tunnel is solace in knowing that when it’s all over, I’m getting on a jet plane to some place and spending a week drinking way too much. Stay tuned for that one!

I’ve still managed to spend a ridiculous amount of time with The Boy; I even went to my first minor league baseball game and a couple minor league hockey games. Now, I’m, by no means, a sporty girl, but these games have proven to be a very good time. I even bought a team scarf.

My niece is growing fast; she changes every time I see her. She’s walking and starting to talk. The running joke in the family is that she’ll be graduating college before I do. Did I mention my family are assholes?

Thanksgiving was a success; The Boy came for dinner (I cooked) and met most of my family. It was nerve-wracking but we both made it out alive. Christmas is next on the list, and providing he comes for dinner, he will meet the rest of my family. We’ll see if he’s still around, or if he runs screaming from the building.

I’ll let you know how it pans out. Probably in February when my life resumes normality.

This Particular Boy–part 1

So, as you know, there’s this particular boy I’ve been spending time with lately. And because you’re all so incredibly nosey, you want to hear all about it. And because I’m so incredibly accommodating, I will tell you all about it.

I’ve technically known him for a couple years, but we only started having consistent conversations in the last 8 months or so. I met BigBoy, or BB, at my local watering hole; he was often there when I was there. I attempted to make conversation with him on a couple of occasions and was met with, what can only be described as, indifference. I chalked it up to him being the strong, silent type.

One day, I was successful in luring him into conversation; I was convinced we were going to be friends. Or at the very least, two people that would talk to each other while occupying a spot at the same bar. But the next time I saw him, I was met with the same indifference. I drew the only logical conclusion.

BB ended up getting a job as a bartender at this establishment. I was sure that I would eventually win him over since he was required to have contact with me. But it turned out he wasn’t required to have contact with me at all. He’d simply leave my drink-getting-duties up to the other bartender, which naturally further convinced me of his dislike for me.

Several months ago, BB ended up moving in with a friend of mine. I was having drinks with Mutual Friend at the pub one night and he invited me back to his place after closing; I agreed to go. He said “When BB gets off work, you’ll be there… I’m sure he’ll love that.”. I drew the only logical conclusion.

Things started slowly changing; around the time BB moved in with Mutual Friend, we started having nice conversations really consistently. One night about three months ago, I was at their place, BB and I were having an in-depth conversation about guitars (we both play); Mutual Friend fell asleep on the couch. The following conversation ensued:

BB: So, what’s the deal with you and Mutual Friend?

TWG: What do you mean?

BB: Well, sometimes I come home from work and you’re here, and Mutual Friend told me the other day that you came over and it was just the two of you.

TWG: Yup.

BB: Soooooo…?

TWG: Noooooo.

BB: No?

TWG: Nope. It’s not going to happen and I’ve told him that about a thousand times.

BB: Yeah, I know.

TWG: You know?

BB: Yeah, I’ve been around for a dozen of those thousand times.

TWG: Right.

BB: But you can understand why I’m asking…

TWG: I… guess… (I didn’t)

Since then, we started spending more and more time together and have had a nice conversation of the “What are we doing, where is this going” variety. And as of recently, we even put the nice little “Boyfriend/Girlfriend” label on this relationship.

Boyfriend. Girlfriend. Relationship. These are things that haven’t happened in over a decade for me.

You could say I’m a little out of my element. You could say that, at times, this whole thing completely freaks me out because being in a relationship has become such a foreign concept for me.

You could also say I am enjoying myself immensely.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Here’s my version of a Valentine’s Day post. Enjoy!

Being chronically single, there are definitely times where I really yearn to be with someone and then there are times where I’m thankful for being alone. I’m sure the same can be said for people who are in relationships as well.

For me, both of these extremes become very apparent when I’m sick. I spent the better part of this week sick at home, so it became very clear in my mind just how much (and how quickly) I can flip flop on this particular subject.

For example, when I was at home laying on the couch wishing for death, the only thing that could make it more bearable was some juice, or soup, or something. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to have someone come and take care of me.

I was too sick to fend for myself. This actually happens more than I care to admit. There have been so many instances that I’ve developed a coping mechanism. I don’t like to drink juice full strength; I like to water it down. It’s easier on the stomach, if that’s not doing so great.

So I set up shop on the couch; I grab my tetrapak of juice out of the fridge, a glass and fill up a 1L container of water. I bring all the things to the couch and fill up my glass as I need. I do need to get up from time to time to refill my water, but much less than if I actually had to fill my cup up every time. In fact, if I invested in a larger measuring cup, I could reduce those trips down even further. Food for thought.

I’m still pretty much fucked if I need to get something to eat, but let’s just say, I got reserves.

On the other hand, when I’m disgustingly sick and things are coming out of places that no one needs to see, I’m fairly happy that I live alone.

But those instances are usually few and far between, besides realistically, the person I’m with better be okay with holding my hair back and cleaning up some puke when I miss the toilet. Or the bathroom altogether.

But nothing makes it hit home quite like it did the other night. I was very sick; in a lot of pain, had a pretty bad fever and a terrible cough. Plus I was covered in hives (an unrelated, yet agonizing, matter).

Even though I drugged myself up to “get a good nights’ sleep”, I still woke up constantly with scratching or coughing. Or alternating between kicking the blankets off and then scrambling to get them back on because I was shivering. And if that wasn’t enough, rolling over caused enough pain from my massive body aches (and probably hives) that I actually groaned audibly.

My first thought was that I hoped my upstairs people couldn’t hear me and/or weren’t being woken up by my agony. My next thought went to what it would actually be like if I was in a relationship; what if I was sharing my bed with someone. Times like these, I know one thing is certain.

Meh – small price to pay to have someone bring me soup, right?

Adventures in online dating: Part - Oh… I get it…

I found this in my drafts – I wrote it several months back, but since I’m chronically single, it still applies.

Hooray for being timeless.

I think I’ve finally figured out a reason, if not the reason, why I’m still single. Meh – who am I kidding there’s clearly a laundry list of reasons…

You know the dating technique where you trick someone into liking you by being not yourself and then dole out your true self in single-bite-size-servings so that, given enough time, you eventually become yourself, but it was done so gradually that the person you’re with didn’t realize just how weird/crazy/needy/sarcastic/(insert undesirable trait here) you really are until it was too late and they already like you and have already come to accept your character flaws?

Turns out that may be a problem, if not the problem, with … … well... me. I think that honesty is the best policy.

Allow me to explain my most recent epic fail. *Update – since this is not so recent anymore, I’m sure there’s more to come… Who am I kidding, I have some in reserves.

Although, my POF account is hidden and I’m not showing up in the general populations’ searches, I do log on, view profiles and email people. Not super frequently, but often enough.

I did this recently and started chatting with an attractive young man, who coincidentally enough, shares the same, uncommon (in the western world at least), name as Thailand. We’ll call him Thailand 2.0, or Thai2 for short.

I decided not to hold this against him, even though, more often than not, I cringe when I meet a prospect with the same name as my ex. Or my brother. Or my father. Sorry – but I got a thing with names!

So we start doing the whole email exchange thing. Back and forth for an hour or so every night. This lasted a few nights when one day Thai2 asked me what I was doing. I said I was at home, relaxing, doing some writing.

Something no one ever does is ask what exactly I’m writing. He does. I explain that I was writing some “short stories”; he asked what kind.

Something no one ever does is ask for my blog address. He does.

I wanted to discourage him, but I didn’t know what to say. My first thought was “No – I only share this with really good friends, or complete strangers and you’re too in between” which seemed like a ridiculous thing to say out loud. I settled with  “I don’t know about that…..” He sent me his website in exchange, so I sent him mine with a “don’t judge me!” disclaimer. He said he wouldn’t.

His website is themed around wine and is very professional and appropriate. And…  yeah… you’ve seen mine. A little while later, he asked who does my “artwork”.

A little while after that, he pointed out a specific post he liked. A post that was quite old. A post that happens to be in my “top posts based on nothing list”. I looked at the random list and hoped he wasn’t working his way down.

Let’s just say that list of posts has some… …  unsavory links. Links that my readers and friends enjoy, but maybe don’t portray me in the best light. That maybe aren’t super becoming of me. Or worse yet, are exactly as becoming of me.

He must have found them because he stopped replying to my emails. I should’ve known he was judging me. Better sooner rather than later, though, right?

Right??

Adventures in Internet Dating–part 4

Just because I know you guys love these so much… here’s another installment of That White Girl’s adventures in internet dating.

Even though my POF account is currently hidden so I don’t show up in the general populations’ searches, I will go on and browse profiles.

There was one guy I found that had far too many muscles for his own good. On his profile it said: ******* NO CEREAL DATERS!!!! *******

The number of asterisk's may or may not be exaggerated. It took every willpower bone in my body (I have like six) not to send him this asking what exactly was wrong with being a cereal dater.

I do believe Cap’n Crunch is a good man; better than most, even.

Then there’s this other guy; his profile picture was him hugging an acoustic guitar, his profile said he sang/played rock and he had a link to SoundCloud that contained only metal songs without any lyrics.

I found him to be contradicting and I thought that was a good icebreaker so I basically sent that to him in an email, giving him a bit of a hard time because he said he sang but all his pieces were instrumental. Here’s how our conversation went down.

Douchebag: Singing isn’t easy and my voice isn’t there yet. You do know that was entirely me playing guitar bass and drums, right? I wrote the song too. I have over 50 songs, of all genres. Check out my SoundCloud now – I put other songs up!

I went back to his SoundCloud and there were a bunch of new songs posted. Genre of all songs: metal (without lyrics) or metal hiphop (rap over heavy metal). Very diverse.

TWG: Singing isn’t easy but makes playing that much more fun (for me at least). I like the song “Acoustic”; nice guitar piece.

DB: So you like classical guitar? Yuck. I made that song to mock my old music teacher. Playing chords and singing some oldie is easy. Try playing something off beat, that has many changes in sound and beat and singing something.

TWG: Not necessarily classical guitar, but I’ll play an acoustic over an electric any day. I prefer the organic sound and not having to fiddle with dials and knobs.

DB: You do know the vast majority of acoustic guitars made today are acoustic electric, right?

TWG: Putting a transducer into an acoustic guitar doesn’t make it an electric guitar. Even when you plug it in, it’s still an acoustic, it’s just amplified. You do realize you’d get the same effect from a microphone, right??

He totally got under my skin for some reason but I never heard from him again so it all worked out.

Onwards and upwards, right, folks?

Having a rough go

I’m having a bit of a rough go right now. First off, it’s been super, super busy at work and it’s consuming my life way more than it normally does. It’s basically like the perfect storm as far as reasons why work gets busy. They’re all happening at once, causing an utter shit-show.

Top it off with the fact that I’ve come down with this brutal cold. It’s the kind of cold where you feel so crappy that you can’t sleep, even though what you need most in the world is a good night’s sleep.

Friday was the first day of that; I had a really sore throat and I couldn’t sleep. And when I finally managed to fall asleep I woke up within a couple hours and had problems falling back asleep.

Saturday I woke up for work (because of the chaos that is happening) and my sore throat had morphed into the worst throat pain ever. Okay, not the worst… Strep is worse. I started sucking on cepacols, which are essentially lozenges that numb your throat. Within a couple hours of being at work, I had already had a couple; by the end of my 6 hour shift, I’d had a few more. I stopped at a grocery store on my way to my dad’s to buy more because I was running low. Naturally, I had another.

Then my stomach started feeling bad. At first I assumed it was because I consumed a bunch of lozenges and not much else. But when I started trying to put other things in my body (water, tea, food), my stomach was not happy.

Immediately after eating dinner (and part of the way through it) I knew it was going to get way worse before it got any better. I thanked my folks for dinner and said I had to go, because of my cold, of course. I spent the 40 minute drive home focusing all my energy into paying attention to the road and not the fact that I was going to throw up and/or shit myself.

I made it home without incident, but spent the remainder of the night willing myself not to get sick. I was feeling pretty shitty about the whole situation, but I felt even worse when I read the package and the dosage was clearly outlined as “one drop every two hours”. I’d had 5 or 6 in just as many hours.

No wonder I wrecked my stomach. The next day, after too few hours of sleep, I woke up sick from the cold. My body was aching, my head was pounding; I felt like I’d been hit by a train. I drank fluids and stayed away from cough drops. I felt like I was on the mend.

Monday, I called into work sick because it turned out I wasn’t on the mend. But I had a massage therapy appointment booked that day, so I went to that. I’ve regretted it ever since. Let’s just say getting a deep tissue massage on all your injured parts isn’t a good idea when you’re having a hard time moving around because of body pain from illness. I feel like my back is bruised to the bone.

But… there’s always a silver-lining, right? So. I’ve been at home, on the couch, in bed for days. I’ve watched movies, read blogs/books, watched YouTube, and played video games. I was still bored. So I did what any “normal” person would do. I re-activated my POF account. And started talking to people.

Just a matter of time now before you get more crazy dating stories. You’re welcome.

And as if that’s not enough, I think the universe just gave me a sign that said “You have no idea just how bad it’s going to get”…  my (ex??) stalker just texted me. Seriously. It’s been a year and a half. I guess he missed Valentine’s Day, so he’s just checking in to see how I’m doing. FML.

Adventures in Real Life Dating–part 3 (?)

I’ve brought you installments on real life dating stories in the past. Like NutJob & Cruper (who, incidentally, texted me on Boxing Day wishing me a Merry Christmas. Nearly 16 months since our one and only date. Nearly 16 months since I stopped responding to his texts. Nearly 16 months since I told him to leave me alone. Not that I’m keeping track or anything).

Well, I have a few more for you. (Just when you thought that I wouldn’t have any new stories because I quit POF).

First up:

This one isn’t really a dating story, but it could have been, so I’m going with it. I met him at a skytrain station well over a year ago (you meet all the “good ones” on public transit). He approached me and said “I just want to say that I think you’re cute and you have a really nice smile.”. I thanked him and we chatted a bit. I wasn’t sure if he was kind of drunk, or mildly retarded. He asked for my phone number. I didn’t have the heart to say no, so I gave him a fake number (not entirely fake, just the last few digits mixed around). Not one of my finer moments, but that’s what I did.

Two weeks later, I have a voicemail on my phone. It was from a guy that sounded either kind of drunk, or mildly retarded. I kid you not.

I shared this story with a friend at work, and he coined a nickname for the guy: my Autistic Stalker.

Fast forward a year. I was at the Salsa club a few months back when this guy approached me with a big old grin on his face. I didn’t think much of it; he looked familiar, so I figured he was going to ask me to dance. I just didn’t realize how I knew him. As soon as he opened his mouth I knew. He didn’t even have to finish his sentence. “I just want to say that I think you’re cute and you have a really nice smile.”. So it was his line…

Next up:

I met him at dance several months ago. I “affectionately” call him El Retardo. But don’t let the name fool you; he’s not Latino.

I met him, we danced, he hit on me and asked for my number. I gave it to him.  We ended up agreeing to meet the Sunday before I went to Thailand. It was the most annoying build up to a date ever.

We were supposed to meet at a coffee shop in the mall. The mall closed at 6pm, we were meeting at 8pm; when I told him and suggested another location, he dismissed it and said we would “figure it out”. I was a few minutes late and rolled into the parking lot he said he was in around 8:05; he was nowhere to be seen. He rolled in at least 20 minutes after I did. I was annoyed. Then we started driving around the mall parking lot trying to find some place to go. They were all closed. Didn’t see that one coming.

I decided to let it go and continued trying to find time to connect. I say “trying” because it would take weeks for us to be able to make plans. He was a flake at best. We would make plans for “tomorrow” and then he’d ask what day we were getting together. When I told him tomorrow, he’d ask for another day because he was confused and busy tomorrow.

Other times, he’d ask if I was available to meet on a Wednesday around 10am, even though I repeatedly told him I work Mon-Fri dayshift. Then there were the times he’d ask me to meet him that night; I wouldn’t respond right away because I was at work and hadn’t gotten the text. When I would respond saying “Sure, when and where?”, I would get a response saying that I took too long to respond so he made other plans, accepted a shift at work, or went swimming and is tired now.

I had put him into the friend zone weeks earlier because I was tired of dealing with that bullshit, yet, he kept trying to make plans with me so that we could “figure us out”.

Eventually, we had plans to meet to figure us out; he indicated that he made plans before we were supposed to meet (like the quality gentleman he is) and was going to be a little late. Like at least an hour late. I’d already made plans for after and told him that being an hour late was too late. I never heard from him again. Really looking forward to that awkward moment when we’re both at the Salsa club at the same time.

Last up:

Shorty. You might remember him from my last post. He repeatedly told me that he liked dancing with me and wanted to “be my friend”. He gave me his business card because he happens to be a mechanic and told me that he’d help me if I ever had car trouble. Not a bad friend to have, so when he asked for my number, I gave it to him, even though I knew I’d be having the “friend talk” sooner rather than later.

The night after we met, he texted me and asked if I was going to go dancing. I said maybe and asked where he was going. He was going to dance at a hotel in Surrey (ironically, Thailand’s hotel). Between not wanting to give Shorty the wrong idea, being tired and also not wanting to face the awkwardness of running into Thailand (especially with a little munchkin following me around); I declined his invitation.

The next day, Shorty texted me and asked how I was doing. I asked him how dancing was on Saturday night. He said “All good. But I missed you…”

Seriously? You miss the girl that you met two days ago?? Looks like I’ve got another one on my hands. The only silver-lining to this one is the fact that he doesn’t speak much English. How is that a plus? Purely from an entertainment stand-point; getting texts like these ESL gems:

“Has dance classes is good”

“Salsa has an inquiry to please as we dance”

“You do on the job”

“And who did you do today?”

Your Mama!!! … … oh wait… that doesn’t really work as ThatWhiteGirl’s response.

Adventures in online dating–part 3

I know you guys find it hilarious when I recall my online dating stories. (see this, this, or this for a laugh). But I’m here to tell you that you won’t be hearing them for awhile. I’ve officially hidden my POF account, in other words, I’m not actively looking for blog fodder anymore. Well, from that avenue anyway. Here’s why.

There are many types of guys on the site, and a few of those types are ones that I have no interest in meeting and/or are in no way interested in meeting me:

1) Mr. Fit

Don’t get me wrong – I don’t want Mr. Opposite-of-This, but this guy is more likely to tell you how many times a week he works out, what high protein diet he is on or how much he can bench-press before he tells you what kind of music he likes. He also makes it very well known that he is only attracted to very fit, athletic women. “I take excellent care of myself and so should you”. Contrary to the pictures on here, I’m not a big blue ball of a woman, but I’m also not a size 2.

2) Mr. Angry

This guy spends his entire profile telling you what kind of girl he doesn’t want. Which is almost as important as knowing what you do want, but he does it so angrily that you’re left wondering what happened to him in his life to make him that way.  “If you’re one of those bitches that just wants me for my money, keep walking!!!”. Okay… Well, I’m not one of those bitches, but I’m going to keep walking anyway. Thanks for coming out. (*Note – likely would have actually read: If your one of those…)

3) Mr. Needy

Need I say more? This is the guy I tend to meet, probably because he openly admits that he’s looking to meet someone for a relationship. It’s not always obvious that the term “a relationship” can be replaced by “my world to revolve around”.

4) Mr. Player

This profile has multiple bathroom mirror pictures with varying degrees of shirts-off, his listed interests include “hanging out, women and having fun”, his actual profile has “will fill this out later” copy and pasted however many times is necessary for POF to decide he has written enough about himself.

I think it’s pretty obvious that the internet dating game has jaded me once again. I think I have to go back to attempting to meet someone in real life. It’s more fun anyway. Also more likely to cause problems and/or make bad decisions, but that’s what life is about, right?? Right?

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: