A Year in Review

One year ago today was the last time I spoke to my best friend, K. And “spoke to” is used loosely. In fact, it was the last time I received an angry email from her.

Hitting that milestone has led me to contemplate my life. What have I done? What have I accomplished?

My first thought was “Nothing! You’ve done nothing!”. But then as I stopped to think about it, I realized that’s just not true.

 

Things Heather has done in the past twelve months:

• Bought a URL for my blog
• Learned how to set up and use the thing
• Transferred my blog contents… twice
• Went to Mexico… alone … twice
• Kissed a girl
• Made out with a teenager
• Made an ass out of myself… more times than I can count
• Took dance lessons
• Learned how to dance
• Learned I love to dance
• Stopped having to be drunk in order to dance
• Got a promotion
• Started bossing people around… some people left
• Met a boy
• Started getting some
• Dumped a boy
• Stopped getting some
• Planned a trip to Thailand
• Hoping I’ll get some while I’m there
• Discovered the holy grail that is loose leaf tea
• Have an ever growing tea collection
• Lost weight
• Through dance, without even trying
• Made new friends
• Through dance, without even trying
• Became a foosball champion
• I have two silver medals to prove it
• It was a fluke…

All in all… a good year!

Weekend Summary

I haven’t done one of these posts in awhile. Mostly because a lot of my stories have been standalones, or if they need back stories, I can put links in to old posts. This one requires me to tell the back story(ies). Here goes…

I went dancing Friday night; I hadn’t been to this place for a couple months… Turns out people noticed because I kept getting “Hey – haven’t seen you in awhile” comments. I guess it’s better than “What do you mean, you haven’t been around?”.

One of the dudes I was dancing with told me that the same organizer was having another party down the road the following night. He even mentioned the words “live band”, which gets me going every time.

Naturally, the following night, I found myself in the same area looking for the dance party that my partner alluded to. It wasn’t there. Completely defeated, I decided to go back home; a quick search of the internet yielded unsatisfactory results. I decided to go to a pub nearby and watch the live band there.

I’ve been to this pub once or twice before and I may or may not have met a friend that likes to dance with me. As it turns out, my friend was there. There was also another dude that was willing to dance with me, so between the two of them, I spent a considerable amount of time on the dance floor. Not a total loss

The first guy, Old Dave, is someone that I’ve chatted with several times. A few months ago, he asked me if my mom has the same hair as me. I told him that she does not; he told me that he knows a lady that works at the local legion that has the exact same hair as I do. Apparently we look very, very similar.

So, we saw last call at this pub and Old Dave suggested that we go down the road to another pub that is open later. I agreed. We went to the next pub, danced to the live band that was still playing and had another drink.

Last call had come and gone and we were getting ready to leave. Out of nowhere, this young guy walked up to me and said “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I just had to come up and tell you this…”

To which, Old Dave piped up and said “Do you mean Bonnie?”. Of course he did, and the two of them got into just how much we look alike. I think he could tell I was slightly horrified. It may have been the look on my face, or it could have been the fact that I said repeatedly “I can’t believe I look like his MOM!”.

He reassured me that I look like buddy’s mom, but 30 years younger. He kept telling me that the resemblance is uncanny; he said that if I saw his friend’s mom, I’d agree. He said it was really weird because now he knows what dude’s Mom looked like when she was young. And just as I’d come to terms with it:

And that’s how I came to have my picture taken, with two young men, in a bar, like a fricken celebrity.

A celebrity that looks just like someone’s mom.

Fuck my life.

Blast from the past

It feels like lately I’ve been having blasts from the past. I’m even dreaming about the past. I think it’s starting to take it’s toll on my sanity.

Anywho… remember this post? Probably not, it was a long time ago and half of you didn’t even know I existed. I was blogging under a whole other identity so I won’t hold it against you.

Don’t worry, you can go back and read it now. You good? All caught up? Nice…

So anyway… One day last week, I was at work and the facilities manager walked past my office. He was talking to someone who hadn’t yet entered my field of view. That someone was CJ. It’s not entirely random; he works for a company that does work for us. He’s in sales, stands to reason he will make a sales call from time to time.

A few minutes later, they walked past again. It was all business outside that doorway, so I didn’t want to yell “Hey! CJ!!” and make a scene, so I watched him saunter past without comment.

Except I wanted to comment. Naturally. So, a few days later, I went to his facebook page to write on his wall. As I was about to start typing something witty, a little red flag appeared indicating that I had a new message. I decided to see who it was from before typing my message. It was from CJ wishing me a happy Thanksgiving and hoping I’ve been well.

Eerie. I couldn’t help but respond nearly immediately to tell him the story. I think I was more freaked out by it than he was… Pretty normal for my life.

So, as it turns out, he’s single again and wants to hang out. We’ll see where it goes this time. Probably the same place as last time, but you never know, right? I’ll keep you updated because apparently Heather’s Horrible Dating Stories are a hit with you guys.

Thanks for enjoying my misery!

He’s baaaaaccck!

Remember this post?

How about my follow up post?

Did you think it was over? Me too… I don’t know what we were thinking.

Well, 13 months after our one and only date, I got another text from my potential stalker. Wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving. Because that’s what you do for a girl that hasn’t responded to you in over a year.

At least I know he’s still thinking about me.

If I fall off the face of the Earth please, for the love of Dog, send out a search party!!

Swimming in the wrong sea

The saying goes “there’s plenty of fish in the sea”. I think I’m swimming in the wrong sea, guys.

All the dudes I’m conversing with on this online dating site seem normal enough for roughly five minutes. Then out comes the “Do you want me to come over” comments. Come over? Like to my house?! We’ve been chatting/emailing for 15 minutes!!

When I say things like “Ummmm… I don’t think I want to meet you in my living room…”, they get all snippety and don’t want to talk to me anymore. Good. I didn’t want to talk to you either. And not just anymore, if you get my drift.

Then there was the guy that wanted to video chat with me. Within two minutes, he told me he was horny and then pulled out his hard dick. My exact words “I can see that”. Disconnect.

Then there was the guy that I actually met. You might recall that I said he was either sweet, or needy. I was right. When I was on my way to meet him, I got a text from him telling me where he was sitting in the pub. About 15 minutes early. I thought maybe his bus was early. Or perhaps he was just eager.

I tell him I’m a few minutes away (like 15, but whatever) and he responds by telling me that he’s working on his soup because he couldn’t wait for me. Huh. Maybe he’s really hungry.

So I show up and he wants a hug. I give him the one-armed-nice-to-meet-you hug. He gives me a full two-armer and then tells me I smell good.

The waitress comes for my drink order and says she’ll give me a few minutes with the menu. I had never eaten at this pub before, and it’s his favourite place, so I ask him what’s good. He tells me the lamb burger is good.

I see.

I peruse the menu; the waitress comes back and asks if I’m ready to order. I wasn’t so she said she’d give me a few more minutes. It took her like 20 minutes to get back. I’d wished I’d ordered something the first time. Not because I was so hungry. And not because I was annoyed at her taking so long to come back. But because those 20 minutes could have been used to prepare my food and I’d be 20 minutes closer to ending this date.

My date asked me if I had made a decision on food. I told him I was going to have the chili. He said “You come to a place like this and you’re going to eat the chili??”. All I said was “I like chili”. Yeah… The dude that comes here every week and has only had one thing on the menu is judging me on my menu choice.

Then he wants to hold my hand. Suddenly, I’m a hand-talker. He wants me to come sit beside him. I tell him I’m happy where I am. He asked me about eight times in a two hour period if I was having fun. It was almost the longest two hours of my life, but how do you say that without hurting someone’s feelings. So I was polite (read: I lied).

I asked him what his plans were for the rest of the day. He said that I was his plan. He asked me the same question, I told him I needed to go home and do laundry.

He actually sulked when he realized the date was ending. Like pursed-lower-lip-avoid-eye-contact-crossed-arms kind of sulk.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg; I don’t think I fully portrayed the painfulness of this date. I think I’m quitting again. I’d rather die alone (well, not alone, I’ll get a shit-tonne of cats) than endure this much longer. (It’s been 10 days, but who’s counting?)

Ooops… I did it again…

I kind of hate myself for using a Britney Spears song for a post title, but it had to be done.

I joined an online dating site. Again. It’s like I’ve forgotten what happened last time.

It seems like every two years, I decide that it’s a good idea and to have another go at it. The site I joined is one I’ve been on before. I never had any luck with it in the past. Last time I was on it, I was active on and off for a year and a half. A considerable amount of time. I never had a date, the only responses to my profile were “Hey – wanna chat” and “What’s up – you’re hot”. Both are not-so-subtle code for “Let’s fuck”.

Which is all fine and dandy, except when you’re actually looking for a relationship. I knew then (and I know even more so now), that fun is fun, but it will take away the drive to finding something meaningful. Why try to find someone when the hole is already being filled (literally and figuratively).

So, here I am. The good news is, I’m sure to have loads of blog fodder over the next however-long. The bad news is, the one guy I met already (who seemed like he was going to be a lot of fun) turned out to be a huge disappointment. C’est la vie. Apparently.

I’m going to meet Dude #2 today, hopefully, he doesn’t turn out to be a dud like the one from Friday. He’s either really sweet or needy. If I have a choice between a Stage 5 Clinger and Mr. Cold Cycle, I think I’d take cold cycle. At least they give you room to breathe, even if you’re fuming the entire time. I’m really just not into asphyxiation.

Wish me luck, guys. I think I need it! 

The internet is a weird, weird place

I’m convinced Google is fucking with me. It all started a few weeks back when I decided to check my personal email at work one day. I logged on to the website and it was all in German.

Having to know the fields in order to log on wasn’t necessary; I was able to navigate the website no problem.

I mean, seriously, “Nutzername and passwort”??

Luckily Google didn’t translate all my emails into German, so I was actually able to read them. Once I logged out of the account, everything returned to normal. I thought it was weird, but carried on and didn’t think about it again until a week or so later when I re-discovered the glitch while checking my email from work. 

About a week after that, it started happening when I was at home. About a week after that, it started affecting my search results; the entire webpage of results would show up in German. Most of the time Google would give me the option of translating the page into English. Thanks Google.

But, like the German glitch, the translator would glitch out too and wouldn’t always be available. I started having to learn the German words for “images” and “maps”. And when I looked up a map… that’s right… all the directions were in German.

It was getting increasingly difficult to find information on the internet, so I did what any normal person would do: I Google’d it.

And all the webpages were displayed in… that’s right… English.

Forgetting my intentions entirely, I spent the next five minutes trying to trick Google into thinking I was German. Suddenly the problem became that Google didn’t think I was German anymore. Google was having none of it. All English, all the time.

I decided that finding a solution to my problem was unnecessary since my problem no longer existed.

Until a couple days later, when the problem reared it’s ugly head once again. Since then, I haven’t had to get directions so having German Google hasn’t been too much of a pain in the ass. That’s why I haven’t tried to fix it again. Also, I’m lazy.

A couple days ago, I realized that this would make a fairly entertaining blog post. I started writing it up; one of the first things I did was go to my email account and screenshot the log in screen. More than halfway through this post, I decided to screenshot a results screen. I put in a dummy search term into Google and awaited the results.

Results… in English. Naturally. And now I’m waiting for it to go back to the German default, but it’s not. It’s all “Of course you’re English, why would I think you’re German?”.

It’s like Google knows that I’m writing about it and wants to really fuck with me.