….welcome to my thoughts

what’s wrong? I don’t understand.

I’m baaaaaaaaack!

I was forced to blow the dust off of my blog from a recent date that was SO awful, I couldn’t not write about it.  It was so bad, in fact, that I willingly left some wine in my glass, just to get the hell out of there.  THAT’s bad, I never like to leave a soldier behind.

We met online, which seems be the most common, yet exasperating, place to meet people these days.  His profile says he was 38, but in our initial texts once we agreed to set up a date, he confessed that he was in fact 33.  Interesting.  Maybe he made a typo?  Curious, I asked him how that happens, and he freely admitted that it was an intentional ploy to meet older women.  “Older women”.  Awesome.  I’m “older women” now.  *sigh*.  Aaaaaanyway, at least he was honest about his ploy.  Honest, you know, about lying.

I suggested we meet and go for a walk at the beach, sounds nice right? His initial response was “Well, but not on the actual sand though, right”. Uh, sure, I guess not. Seawall it is then.

On the days leading up to the date, we texted back and forth a bit, and talked on the phone once.  The texts and conversation were pretty much standard garden variety – what kind of music do you like, do you have siblings, what do you do for fun, yada, yada, yada.

The morning of the date arrived, and he texted me mid morning to say good morning, and the usual “looking forward to it” script.  That was pretty much the end of the “normal” interaction.

The weather outside was pretty crappy and raining, so I suggest that we meet at the English Bay Cactus Club for a drink.  Rain or not, it’s still a gorgeous view.  The text response to that suggestion was “Anywhere more inland?”  *insert record scratch sound here*  Pardon?

Me: “But inland doesn’t have a view.”

Him: “I can’t find free parking anywhere there.”

Keep in mind at this time, it’s 10:30 am.  We’re meeting at 2.

I let him know that there’s always parking, you just have to look.


Wow, great.  Okay.  I also suggest to him that I’d like to consider myself worth a 5-10 minute drive around to look for parking.  His response to that was “lol”.  Rly?

Besides, I live in the West End – anybody I’m going to date is will have to learn to park in my hood on occasion eventually.  Fighting every part of my being wanting to bail at this point, I soldier on.

Just before 2pm, aka date’o’clock, he texts and says he’s going to be 10 minutes late.  FFS.  On the plus side, at least he gave me a heads up.  Silver lining.

I get to the restaurant and grab a seat by the big beachfront windows, and order myself a big glass of wine while I wait.  10 minutes go by.  20 minutes go by.  *jaw clenched sigh*

Ah – a text! “I found parking”.  Congratulations, well done you.

He finally comes in, and walks over to the table, so I get up and give him the obligatory hug and a lighthearted “You made it!”

Rather than sit, he stands beside his chair and just leans on the table, “So whatchoo up to?”  Odd.

“Uhh, well, not much, just having my wine waiting for you”.  He slowly sits, I guess he finds this answer acceptable.  He keeps his jacket on though, arms folded, face kinda scrunched like he smells a bad fart.  I recall one of his profile pics was of him smiling, so I know for a fact he has teeth.  No further talking at this point, just a brief awkward silence as he sits there.

A few minutes later, Waitress comes over and asks if she can get him started with a drink, to which he replies, somewhat curtly, (as well as mumbly, like he’s got a mouth full of marbles) “Haven’t looked at the drink list.”  She moves the drink list 1″ closer to him so that it’s now on the table directly under his face, and says she’ll give him a minute.  Her and I flash each other a knowing look.  I am already getting spidey senses telling me to leave, but again, I soldier on.

I try to make some light hearted conversation “What did you get up to last night”, “Any fun plans for the rest of the weekend”, etc.  All of which receive a one or two word answer, sans smile, and then silence and a blank stare.  Good god man, work with me here.  Not only that, but every time I ask him something he says “Huh?”. I don’t recall his profile mentioning a hearing impairment.

Waitress comes by again. Again marble-mouth indicates he’s not yet decided.  He hates wine, that’s what I know so far though in his perusal of the drink list.  Waitress and I exchange that look again, only this time I see pity in her eyes as she looks at me.  She says for him to flag her down when he’s ready.  Off she toodles.  I’m jealous of her – she isn’t stuck here with Captain Stank Face.

After more attempts from me at conversation and one-worded answers, he flags her over.  He orders two pints of beer.  TWO. At once. FML

From there, it goes like this.  Spoiler alert, it gets no better.

Him: Who chose to sit here {at the table by the window} – you or the hostess?

Me: “I did.”

Him: “Why? ”

Me: [Internally to self – wtf?] “Well, it’s at the window with a great view of the ocean.”

Him: “Hmmph. The view is just as fine as the back corner [points, for impact]. And what’s so great about the view anyway? All I see are ships.”

I have no answer for this – but I look longingly at the waitress to come over to tell me that the kitchen is on fire, and we all have to leave. There is no fire.

Me: “Well, this is off to a great start, hey?”

Him: “Huh?”

Me: “Never mind”  [I turn and stare at the ocean, hoping for it come and sweep me away]

I take a few sips of wine, and put the rest of the wine from the mini carafe into my glass.  This benign action kicks off his next diatribe.

Him: “What is that?”

Me: “It’s the rest of my wine.”

Him: “Why is it in that little carafe?”

Me: *shrugs* “It’s just how it’s done.”

Him: “That’s stupid.  It doesn’t make sense. You could fit all 9oz in that glass.”

Still no kitchen fire to make my escape.  I decide to switch it up a bit.

Me: [speaking a bit louder so he can hear me] “So, why don’t you tell me what you DO like then.”

Him: “You don’t have to shout. And what do you mean?”

Me: “Uh, well, so far I know about all things you hate, how about saying something positive.”

Him: “I’m just being honest, there are things I don’t like.  I’m sure there are things you don’t like too.”

Me: “Yes, that is true.  But I usually refrain from spewing them all at once on a first date.  Let me ask you, do you think this date is going well?”

Him: “Yes, I think so, why?”

Me: “Really, you do? You think this is going well. I do not.  In fact, I am not having a nice time.  At all.  Everything you’ve said so far is super negative, when you even say anything more than one word.”

Him: “What do you mean? What’s wrong? I thought we were just being quiet.”

Me: “Seriously? Ya, so, I’m going to get my bill and go.”

Him: “What? Why? What’s wrong?”

Me: “For real?”

Him: “Well, at least you could wait until I’m finished drinking my beers [BEERS – plural]. I don’t want to sit here and drink alone.”

Me: “Oh? Well, I sat here for 20 minutes with my glass of wine while I waited for you.”

Him: “I couldn’t find parking.”

Me: “Good day”

*blocks his number*

I should also mention that he’s a nursing student.  Good luck with that bed-side manner.

your romance, it makes my eyes burn

Throughout my life, music has had a profound impact on me and as such I have countless vivid memories that are brought to the forefront of my mind when I hear certain songs.  Along with those memories often come the feelings that originally accompanied them, as if I was living that moment again, over and over.  There is one particular song that has the power to nearly stop me in my tracks, makes my heart heavy, and can also make my eyes well up if I’m feeling at all vulnerable.  Happily though, in the majority of these cases the feelings that are stirred up are warm, nostalgic memories.  There are some songs that simply make me feel at peace, even though I can’t recall what memory it was tied to, or even if it was tied to anything specifically.  I just know that I feel like I’ve been hugged from within, and that’s good enough for me.

A song played randomly on my ipod recently and I had a small internal giggle at the memory of the song, so I wanted to share.

Just a few years ago when I was in my late teens *ahem, cough*, I was dating this fellow and we were out for a drive in his car.  While at a red light, Crazy for You by Madonna came on.  When the song came to the lyric “I see you through the smoky air”, my boyfriend blew his cigarette smoke across the cabin of the car at me in I suppose what was supposed to be a romantic gesture, as he mouthed the words “Crazy for You” to me.

I’m sure at the time I somehow managed to find the romance in it, despite coughing from the smoke in my face and the sting in my eyes – I was only 18 after all.

Looking back I always hated that he smoked, but I dated him anyway.  That’s definitely not the case now, and in fact it’s a complete Show Stopper for me.

In case you’d like to relive this moment with me, here you go.  Mind your eyes.


welcome to the UN – you’re safe here

I said if you’re thinkin’ of being my baby
it don’t matter if you’re black or white
-Michael Jackson, Black or White

I was on a road trip when this song came on, and it reminded me of when I took the dare of submitting myself as the Georgia Straight’s “Single of the Week”.  It was pretty easy, really – all you have to do is fill in a questionnaire that they send you with a few random tidbits about yourself, along with a photo of your stunning self.  Easy peasy.

Among the questions I answered was one that asked “what is your favorite movie quote?”.  Well, if any of you are familiar with the Austin Powers Goldmember movie, it includes Johan van der Smut, aka Goldmember, as the primary antagonist.  Anyhoo, there’s a quote in the movie where Austin Powers‘ dad, played by Michael Caine, comments that “There’s only two things I hate in this world. People who are intolerant of other people’s cultures and the Dutch.”.

Now, unless you are completely devoid of humor, OR common sense this quote is funny.  I feel obligated to include that it’s funny BECAUSE it’s completely contradictory.  And really, what’s not to like about the Dutch?? For the record, I no not dislike the Dutch in any way.

Moving on.  Needless to say, the Georgia Straight used this as one of the chosen quotes for my Single of the Week column.  As it turns out, there are lot of people who read the Georgia Straight, as well as the Single of the Week who are in fact devoid of humor AND common sense.  In hindsight, I suppose the quote taken out of context if you haven’t seen the movie COULD be a bit confusing for some folks who may be sensitive about any negative feelings towards the Dutch.  Duly noted.

In any case, a few of the emails I received in response – luckily to an anonymous one that the GS provide – were from people who were quite offended and proclaiming me to be a racist.  *rolls eyes*

Really?? C’mon people – have you actually READ the quote??  It’s contradictory and nonsensical.  THAT’s why it’s funny.

The true point of the story here, is that in my dating history, I would consider myself to be the UN of Dating.  No discrimination here, folks!  Instead of a map with pins of where I’ve travelled I should create one that includes all the countries and places of the people I’ve gone on dates with.  There have been a LOT of wonderful opportunities to learn about somebody’s else’s background and in some cases – ahem, interesting viewpoints.


where’s mine?

Ok, I’m gonna get deep here today, I hope you are ok with that and can come along with me.

I was reading an article online about generosity and it made me think how some people may consider themselves generous individuals, when in reality, that’s not entirely that case at all.  In some instances what they think is them being giving, is actually Conditional Generosity, and they are two completely separate situations.  The irony is that Conditional Generosity is totally self-serving.  It’s giving with the explicit expectation to get something back.  I’m not talking about giving to charity here, as I happily claim a charitable tax receipt for my donations.  No, I’m talking about person to person generosity, and it’s relation to how individuals may mistakenly perceive themselves as totally selfless.

Some would loudly toot their own horns at how selfless they are in their giving (the act of which diminishes the very idea of generosity, by the way), whether it’s the gift of their time, or of material items.  But if they stopped to look at it from a different angle, if they’re reaching one hand out to you in giving, while holding out the other expecting reciprocity as a reward, then it really can’t be claimed as generosity.  What they may perceive as being altruistic actually translates to them actually being selfish, and it is such a fine line that’s drawn with the reasons behind their “generosity”.

There are also those who fall into this category who are quick to judge those who don’t immediately reciprocate, or don’t reciprocate to their liking, and write them off as selfish.  Here is where it’s the double edge sword.  Are you giving because you truly feel good about giving or is it to get something in return?  If it’s the latter, then you can put yourself in the selfish category too.

Don’t get me wrong, everybody wants to be recognized and appreciated but when your main drive for your generosity is recognition then you have to first ask yourself why, and then you have to appreciate that maybe you aren’t as generous as you may think.

I would prefer to give from my heart, and not when it’s just expected of me or if it’s just going to be used as a scorecard, or a gauge for what kind of person I am.

it’s ok I’ll just have my foot for dinner…

Seemingly forever ago, I had some friends who used to host Speed Dating nights and one of the nights they found the women to men ratio was way off, so I agreed to come and participate.  I thought, what the hell, why not?

Turns out I ended up making somewhat of a connection with one of the guys, and we arranged to set up a second date under more “normal” circumstances to get to know each other better.  The second date went well, and in the course of the conversation he mentioned how he loves to cook.  What a coincidence, I said, I love to eat!  He suggested that for our next date, he’d love to cook me dinner and asked me what my favorite cultural food was.  At the time, I was on a Greek food kick, so he agreed and we set a date.

I arrived at his building and took the elevator up to the top floor.  I got the tour of his penthouse apartment, and the stunning views of downtown Vancouver from his 500 square foot patio.  It was fantastic.

Then he tells me that he hopes I like what he’s cooked for dinner, and I replied that I love pretty much all food, with the exception of spinach.  As soon as I said it, his face froze and a look of panic came over him.  Oh shit.  When he said he had indeed cooked spinach, I felt like an ass and tried to reassure him that well, really, I hadn’t eaten spinach since I was a kid, so I am totally game to try it and see if I like it now.  He started to look a bit relieved.  As long as it wasn’t that horrible mushy frozen stuff, I said.  Another look from him, this time an even deeper look of panic.  Oh shit.

Turns out that dinner was fantastic, and to my surprise I had acquired a taste for spinach since I’d eaten it last, even if it was that mushy frozen kind.  And luckily the taste of my own foot in my mouth didn’t ruin dinner, or the company.

show stopper

I was out with some friends a few weeks ago, and was introduced to this cutie who was the friend of an acquaintance.  We got to chatting, and I was kinda digging him and it seemed pretty mutual.  He was attractive, funny, intelligent, and the conversation flowed very easily.  So, we’re chatting and flirting away, and I was thinking, “wow, this guy seems really cool, I would love to exchange info and hang out with him sometime.”.

Then it happened.  Outta nowhere.  He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out……..a pack of cigarettes (insert Debbie Downer theme music here – mwah mwah mwaahhhh).  In that very instant he went from potential prospect to ‘nuh-uh’.  Just like that.  There’s something about even just the THOUGHT of kissing somebody with ashtray-mouth that makes me want to vomit.  It’s not even something I’ll entertain, no matter how cute or charming he may be.  I just can’t do it.  I was giving him a hard time about then cigarettes, trying to gauge how attached he was to them, but I guess as any smoker might be able to guess, his attachment was very real.  Le Sigh.  Bummer.

He had gone outside to light up a cancer stick, and in the meantime I had left the venue to head home.  He texted me a few times later that night to see if I’d come and meet him for a drink, but, aside from the obvious that “meet me for drinks” = invitation to booty call, I had to lay it down that I just can’t date a smoker.  Well, to be honest, I COULD date a smoker, but I choose not to.



school’s in session….

An interesting and thought-provoking conversation came up today around a friend who disapproves of her 13 year old’s boyfriend.  To make matters worse, the boy won’t show his face around her home, and is disrespectful.  It’s one thing if he’s a nice, genuinely respectful kid, but if he’s the douchey sort then you need to make sure the girl is equipped with the knowledge and tools to make the right decisions.

Of course my initial reaction is “wow, 13 is too young to be dating”, but telling a 13-year-old that they can’t do something is pretty much a guarantee that it’s gonna happen, only then it will be behind your back without any injected wisdom.  And besides, when I think back, I ventured into hanging out with boys at that age, and I can guarantee that was not out of the ordinary.  This generation now seems to be growing up faster than previous generations.  It’s not to say that they are ahead mentally or emotionally, because sadly that’s seemingly not the case.  They want to be grown up so fast, but they don’t quite have the adequate emotional maturity to properly deal with all of the hormones and emotions running rampant through them.

Now, I certainly don’t have any experience rearing children to contribute any useful parenting advice, but I do have experience in dating, including the valuable experience gained from dating the wrong people.  I try to think what I would say to her if it were my daughter.  I would certainly want to do everything in my power to save my daughter from making the same mistakes that so many of us make and to impart the wisdom gained through those misguided errors in judgement.

“Oh, but he’s the cutest boy in school mom!” may be the case, but what if the kid’s a little asshole?  Tell her that straight out and that might make her revolt and like him even more.  What to do what to do?

I guess all you can do is to try to make sure that your kids value and respect themselves enough to be able to discern when somebody’s being disrespectful to them, and then to be able to turn around and tell them to piss off.  Hopefully they can muster just enough self-esteem that they can stand up for themselves and not let somebody treat them with disrespect.  The more they love and respect themselves, the more they will attract the same.  And they need to understand that they deserve it.

I imagine one of the hardest parts of being a parent is when your nuggets get to an age where you have to trust that you’ve taught them right from wrong and hope that they make the right decisions for themselves.  Scary.




down on the v

Dirty birdies!  Get your minds out of the gutter! I love it. But the V is for volume.

Something out of the blue the other day made me think about somebody I dated briefly.  I can’t recall exactly what brought up the thought, but there’s so much that rattles around in my brain at any given time it’s hard to peg it all down.  It’s like an information super highway during rush hour in there sometimes. In any case, there it was.

We met, hit it off on a lot of levels. He was funny, smart, tall, dark, handsome, and relatively charming.  We had the same sense of humor and that was a great way to ease into getting to know each other.  Conversation flowed very easily and we genuinely seemed to have a good time together.  We both weren’t looking for something serious, so that was a mesh as well. Things progressed at a perfectly casual pace and we saw each other a number of times, either out for dinner or chilling out sipping wine.  It was nice.

One of the nights after dinner we were back at my apartment enjoying some more wine on the sofa, and things started getting hot and heavy, and before long it was a solid make out session.  But one thing just wasn’t sitting right with me, and I was having a hard time ignoring it.  I couldn’t help but take note of how loud a kisser he was.  I mean, he was a good kisser, don’t get me wrong.  Just really loud.  I’m not even kidding you, it was really distracting.

I tried really hard to push on, I was digging the action.  But all I could think about was how it was the same sound as when a dog licks its balls.  Slurp, slurp.  How do you recover from that?  How are you supposed to keep on keepin’ on with the make out?  I guess I could have stopped and told him, but how awkward would that be?


oops, my bad

I was struck by a revelation, like a lightening bolt to the brain. A concept that I hadn’t considered before, and it turns out I may have some apologizing to do to somebody I love very much.

I realize that the end of one my relationships was my fault. Yes, that’s right. I realized that I invited the trouble in, and I nurtured it, and allowed it to grow. I allowed this with the best of intentions, mind you, but in the end it was my doing.

Very early on I encountered some questionable behavior. The kind that makes you wonder, “WTF, are we back in high school?” It seemed to come off as insecure, and rooted in jealousy, but I tried my best at the time to address it and ended up giving some leeway as the relationship was relatively new. In the beginning of relationships you’re still figuring each other out, and let’s be honest that every individual has their own personality, and deal differently with stuff based on what brought them to be who they are. We’ve all got our quirks. Everybody also has their own tolerance levels, and for me, this was a red flag of disrespect, and an inability deal with conflict within the bee hive in a collaborative manner. But in the end, I let it go, and tried to communicate that perhaps next time there could be a better, more mature way to deal with feelings.

I knew in my heart that this level of jealousy and immaturity was, for me, an impasse for any relationship. You can’t build trust on jealousy, ever. Nor can you fix somebody else’s issues with it. The situation unfortunately planted a seed of mistrust and doubt for me. And from there, it snowballed. Despite my better judgement, I stuck in there. I was optimistic that it would get better. I really wanted to give this a fair shot. I think in my head I thought I was finally breaking out of the Three Month Kill, but I now realize the mistake in not listening to my gut. Always.Trust.Your.Gut.

From there, the relationship ran into more trouble with jealousy, and resulted in more giving of chances from me, despite that nagging inner voice warning me against it. And also despite ending the relationship over it – twice.  I tried too hard to believe words of regret and promises for rebuilding trust, but the damage was done. I made the mistake of believing and trusting that to happen, and I really wanted it to. I had really hoped that the issues could be resolved and we could eject the green monster from our life, and finally rebuild damaged trust.

My heart had left it at that point though, and I should have recognized it and dealt with it then.  I was trying to make it fit. But it was never going to fit and it’s my own fault for remaining there when I had feelings that this wasn’t what I wanted. We clearly had polar opposite views on these things.  I lost interest. I was always left feeling disappointed and never regained my trust. And when you finally start to think you’re making headway, you find somebody else’s panties kicking around. Trust is a key component in a relationship, and without it, it will never work. But what I SHOULD have done was trust my own instinct that I was aboard the Titanic. I should have gone with my instincts, and cut the cord at the three-month mark when I originally thought about it.  It would have saved us both a lot of grief, and time wasted being miserable. I also don’t want to live with regrets so I take from it what I can and forgive myself for the rest.

So, I am sorry. Sorry for not listening to my instincts. Sorry for putting myself through that. I guess this is an answer for the question ‘what’s the harm in trying?’ Huh. Who knew?

“Self, don’t do that again, you deserve more.”

“Ok self, I promise. I love you”

“I love you too. We cool?”

“Ya, you know it.”

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