Today it was refreshing to find myself [wait...there's more]
Today it was refreshing to find myself chatting to a single guy [wait...there's more]
Today it was refreshing to find myself chatting to a single guy who, like me, is an avid runner. It doesn't happen very often (unless you count the guys who "run" to the liquor store).
And he was witty to boot. Teasing me about my "batman belt" aka my fuel belt. Alas, the only crime I'm fighting right now is that I'm single.
It reminded me how much I'm attracted to guys who are physical (and not in the way that you're thinking about. Ok...maybe a bit of that too ;) I like guys who are rugged and like camping. Can handle a canoe. Build a fire. Carries me over his shoulder to the bedroom while calling to his jungle friends (loincloth optional).
Runners. Surfers. Skiers. It doesn't matter as long as it's physical. And he's got skills (or at least pretends to). Confidence is another thing I'm attracted to.
You would think in this day and age, finding a physical guy would be easy. It's about as easy as doing what's on page 20 of the Kama Sutra. Case in point: I run on the same trail every night and I come across lots of other runners. And you know what, they're all women. We knowingly nod in passing, as if we're all members of the same club.
Perhaps I need to start running somewhere new if I expect to run into Mr. Right.
Back in the spring I bought two tickets from a girl at work on one of those romantic weekend get-a-ways for two at a mountain side chalet. The prize was being drawn by a local school who was doing some fund raising. Being the jackass I am, I asked my coworker for two tickets because "I just have a feeling I'm going to win." And then, hell froze over: I won.
My prize has been sitting, tucked away in the top drawer of my dresser since then. Gathering dust.
I planned on taking Liam. We planned to do a lot of things. None of which will come to fruition.
I rationalized that some other guy would come along who I would want to take. Not necessarily someone serious, but someone I would look forward to hot tubbing, cuddling by the fire, and making out on the bear skin rug with.
**still waiting**
So I decided to book the chalet anyway. And go there. Alone. Well, not exactly alone. But with my son and my nephew.
I was so embarrassed when I called...
Me: "Um, I have this gift certificate for a romantic two night stay. But um, er, instead of two adults, it'll be one adult and two children. Is that ok?"
Resort Lady: (sounding incredibly sorry for me) "Oh yes dear, ofcourse."
Me: "Um, as part of the package, I have a gift certificate for a romantic candle light dinner for two. I'm not going to be using that, can I transfer it to someone else?"
Resort Lady: (sounding even more sorry for me) "Oh yes, ofcourse dear. Ofcourse. It's no problem."
Sure, it won't be the get-a-way I originally pictured. But living in my bikini for two days, biking up (and down) the mountain, swimming in the heated outdoor pool and bbq'ing at my deluxe chalet sounds pretty damn good to me right about now.
Ok. Brace yourself. I'm about about to reveal something you will not believe. Something so incomprehensible, you will be dumbfounded. Are you ready...
I have never seen an episode of "Sex In The City." Yes, that's what happens when you don't have cable folks. You miss out.
I told several people this little tidbit over the last week and was met with several astonished looks generally followed by "What?" or "You haven't?" and even one "Oh my god you could BE on that show!"
Undercover Mother's daughter Bridget owns Season 6 (Part 1) and offered it to me to check out.
I watched all 12 episodes in one sitting. It was like spending a year in therapy without it costing me thousands of dollars or without me sleeping with my therapist. I learned so much. And not just about teabagging. Although that was an ear-opener. I was definintely deficient on my sexlinguistics. Well not any more!
I feel like a new woman. Completely re-energized my dating mojo. Seriously. It feels like I've had a semi-religious experience. Minus the virginity and cruxifiction.
Now I'm addicted. I must have more Sex In The City. More more more!
Whether you enjoy every second devouring that piece of er...chocolate, or spit it out because it's not caramel (your favorite) affects the next bite of the next piece of chocolate.
Before you toss it in the trash you owe the truth to that little (or big) piece of not-the-flavour-you-had-in-mind chocolate. Afterall, chocolate have feelings too. [Just go with it ok].
I do try to tell the truth (in a not-so-harsh way) really I do. I have hurt many a man's feeling over my dating career. And they mine. But sometimes, occasionally, I chicken out. And you know what, it gives me the worst feeling. I like to call that feeling dating karma.
I know that my actions or in-actions/non-truths/non-talking will come back to bite me in the ass. And unfortunately, not in the literal sense. But sometimes I can't help myself.
My latest victim was Ben. He emailed me late Monday afternoon following his 5 days away sans-communicado. His email was light and airy, asked about my weekend and whether I was playing softball that night. Ben made no mention of why he didn't call. And no apology for not calling. He was testing the waters.
I didn't even bother to reply, I just let the email sit in my inbox. Not because I was mad. But because I felt that we both wasting each other's time. He had the looks, the witty, but had zero passion for life. I like someone who can think outside of the box. Clearly all Ben had on his mind was the *ahem* box.
What could I say without sounding like an asshole? "Dear Ben, I'm just not that into you. PS: I took the liberty of signing you up for a "how to please a woman in 3 easy steps" class."
I was hoping Ben would call me that night when I didn't reply and I could at least tell him over the phone. But he didn't. He willingly accepted my silence. True, I could should have called him. But I didn't. And now, I've got some bad dating karma coming my way.
[* The Redhead-Next-Door does not recommend biting metaphorical chocolate].
I'm not sure what this chick is trying to do. But she kind of looks like how I did today [minus the blonde hair ofcourse] at the office trying to find "unconventional" ways to cool off. Like full body contact with the water cooler. Repeatedly standing in front of the open fridge door in the lunch room. And running a strategically placed oscillating fan under my desk in my cubicle. Mmmmm.
It is sooooo hot right now. I'm sweating just blogging about how hot it is.
But despite the heat, I love summer (the season, not the OC character). Why do you ask? I feel a list coming on...
Top 10 Reasons Why I Love Summer (the season and not the OC character):
- wearing minimal clothing
- getting sweaty (which reminds me of something else...running! What did you think I was going to say?)
- the smell of Tropicana suntan lotion (mmmmm coconut)
- coconut rum and raspberry cranberry juice
- Vex coolers (Mike's Hard Lemonade will do in a pinch)
- strawberry daiquiris
- pina coladas
- sleeping on top the covers with the windows wide open
- swimming
- nooshing on tons of "goodies" like fresh fruit and veggies, and barely craving "baddies" like chips
Sure, summer can also be fun if you have some dishy guy to fan you by the pool and rub lotion on your back. But whatever. I guess my single ass can fan myself with all the books I'm reading. [Total books completed: two, books in progress: two]
Have you seen the new DQ commercial with the waffle bowl guy and the soft serve girl at the doctor's office? The doctor informs the guy that he isn't lactose-intolerant and they can have a baby. It kills me every time!
Then I got to thinking. Was inspired even.
Perhaps if I venture back to online dating, my opening line could be "Soft Serve Looking For Her Waffle Bowl." After all, guys might find it cute.
Somehow I don't think that the alternative, "Waffle Bowl Looking For Her Soft Serve" would elicit the same volume of responses.
This morning at work...
[interior office, cubicle farm]
Lady Supervisor: "Your hair looks amazing today!"
Me: [trying to act all surprised] "Thanks! Can you tell I haven't washed my hair in 3 days?"
Lady Supervisor: "Wow. Dirty looks good on you."
Me: "Hahahaha." [Thinks to myself, I need to get that on a t-shirt]
A few weeks ago, I had the oddest dream. I dreamt I was showering with the Brit. Ok, wait, that's not the odd part.
It was what we were doing in the shower. No, wait. Not that.
It was what I was doing in the shower...I was shaving his legs. But the shower curtain kept getting stuck to my head so I couldn't see. The more I tried to fight the curtain [in a lady-matador-esque manner], the more tangled I became.
Liam kept saying, "I don't understand why you are doing this. Why are you doing this?"
Weird huh? I wonder what it means. Maybe it has to do with a sub-conscious desire I had to change him into the man I wanted him to be. Which apparently was a less hairy man, with silky smooth "I'm your venus" legs. Maybe.
[And yes, I actually drew that fancy little pic myself].
A male coworker informed me today that, while he didn't think it was possible, I am "even more smokin' hot as a brunette." Or something to that effect. I was trying not to make it obvious I was taking notes to report this for prosperity and/or my blog.
I believe [and by "believe" I mean, to directly quote] he also used the catch phrase "sizzlin" at least twice and did the lick-his-finger and touch-me-like-I'm-hot-stuff motion. Which is sweet because I felt like I was retaining 10 pounds of water weight.
And to think...last night I was throwing myself a huge pity party because of what's-his-name (seriously, what IS his name) and his non-phoning-non-formal-dating-lacklust-lovemaking ways. Oh right, Ben (*gag*).
In unrelated news, my coworker Steve is assisting with a hook up between moi and an industrial arts teacher friend of his named Darren (who also happens to be a black belt). Mmmm...a guy who knows how to handle his wood and defend my honour. Love. It.
Over the weekend, I bought two CD's! ACDC Live and ABBA Gold. Double AA's [just like my training bra in elementary school].
I've got the ACDC cranked in my car, and at home. There's just something about "Thunderstruck". It makes me want to drink whiskey, smoke a cigarette and give a really great lap dance.
If I was a stripper it would totally be "my song." And, if I was a WWF wrestler. Or, a race car driver.
It's "the shit." Not to be confused with having "the shits."
And don't even get me started on what "Gimme Gimme Gimme" does.
Not to state the obvious, but today is Sunday. I haven' heard from Ben since Tuesday, despite his promise to call this weekend while he was out of town.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm being too quick to cut men off at the knees. But really, how hard is it to make a quick phone call? Exactly. Talk about not making a girl feel special.
Plus, I didn't miss him one bit (except last night when I got a wee bit tipsy, and even then, it had less to do with him and more to do with the fact that he has a penis). I may as well be dating an anatomically correct mannequin [note to self: check out Ebay for anatomically correct mannequin].
When he emails me tomorrow, I'll semi-politely tell him I'm not seeing him again.
I'd rather read a book.
The Great Canadian Coffee. The name says it all eh? This brand of coffee has caused men to fall hopelessly in love with me [ok, 80% is probably due to my top notch coffee preparation skills and non/appropriate coffee brewing attire].
So I'm not surprised this coffee could also inspire multiple "ah-ha" moments on the inner workings (or un-workings) of one's self. That self being me. Since this is my blog.
One of my many obsessions has centered around getting a new car. If you recall, I have been obsessing about cars since April. I am no closer to making a decision now than I was four months ago. And it's not because I lack decisiveness. I already have the make/model/color/options picked out, and a price quoted for my trade-in. It's about commitment. Or in my case, lack thereof.
I will have this car for 5 years. It's a big step for me. One that increases my rate of breathing and heart rate. With the exception of my son, I have not had anything for 5 years. Not a job, not an apartment, not a relationship, not a marriage. In fact, I have not had anything longer than 3 years. Except a few choice pieces of furniture. I like furniture. It is very stable.
I joke that it's because I get bored easily. Which I do. But I suspect it has more to do with the fact that I am a raging commitment-phob! And like the Littlest Hobo, [singing] maybe tomorrow I'll want to settle down, until tomorrow I'll just keep moving on.
It's all starting to fit together. This is why I don't own my home. Stick with one hair color. Or have a gym membership. Ok, maybe not so much why I don't have a gym membership.
Last night I signed up for the Blockbuster Reward's program - it was a big step for me! You never know when you might want to move to another continent...
Whether it was the coffee or all these dating books I'm reading, I'm beginning to see things in a different way. And, the best place to start is admitting you have a problem. "My name is Autumn and I'm a committment-phob." Oops. I mean, "My name is Erika yadda yadda yadda."
Lately I've been hankering for a change. Partially because I'm a raging commitment-phob [more on that later], and also because I bore easily. It's like the chicken and the egg...which came first?
So, I decided to color my hair. Good-bye redhair tendrils and hello brunette locks! I feel more exotic already - like an Irish Cleopatra. Plus, the brown really showcases my cute little freckles.
I'm looking forward to see what [if any] affect this has on the kind of guys I attract. After all, men seem to take brunettes more seriously. Brunettes are smart and savvy. Ok, so they're also kind of bland (compared to a sassy redhead anyway) but maybe I can help improve their image.
Eventually I will have to confess to a man that I'm a natural redhead (*ahem* there are ways to tell). But until then - brunettes a-way!
In order to keep busy for the summer (i.e. not focus on boys) I've requested about 20 books at the library - all focused on dating and relationships.
Yesterday I picked up "How To Set His Thighs On Fire: 86 red-hot lessons on love, life and men (especially sex)" and "DSI: Date Scene Investigation - the diagnostic manual of dating disorders".
When I stepped up to the counter, I was somewhat embarrassed about my book choices. It didn't help that there was a cute guy standing within ear shot. I loudly stated the books were "research" for an article I'm working on. The librarian gave me the "Sure dear, poor thing" look.
My quest for dating enlightenment, was not helped by this article published (on the front page no less) of today's newspaper.
Last night I had date #4 with Ben. If you can call it a date. This seems to be a reoccuring theme.
So far here's the breakdown on our dates:
Date #1 (on a Thursday): went to the movies, watched Evan Almightly. No kissing as per first date rule. Ben asked what a guy has to do let me know they're interested (apparently I'm not the best at picking up on clues). I mutter that writing a message in the sky via air plane always has a nice touch. No contact made until Monday [he travels to the city every weekend to visit his son].
Date #2 (the following Tuesday): watched Big Brother at my house. This was a last minute, unplanned date because he couldn't wait until our next official date. And I didn't have a babysitter. Lots of kissing as I don't have any other dating rules.
Date #3 (Thursday): Enjoyed drinks at my house and played Scrabble. Lots of ...ah, um - look is that a UFO?!? No contact made until Monday.
Date #4 (yesterday): went for coffee at 10 pm (he worked late at the bank), drove to a local look-off but quickly left because it was after dusk and the park closes at dusk [i.e. park warden shuts a rather large looking metal gate, complete with heavy chain and padlock]. So we went back to my house.
At this point I am completely confused. Ben is obviously used to women not having any requirements for actual dating rituals and letting him get away with such lackluster dating behaviour. Well, not this chicka.
I had planned to tell him I couldn't see him again, after all, what girl wants to feel like an after-thought? Certainly not me. And after 3 dates, I did not feel like I knew anything sub-surface about him at all. So last night I made it a point to ask Ben some thought-provoking questions. He couldn't answer many of them. It's sad, but he seems used to women just taking him for his [extremely] good looks, [hot] body and [thick] wallet without really getting to know him.
I did find out: he was once a boy scout and alter boy, is technically catholic [but definitely not a practising catholic], think's he's going to hell, his idea of hiking is paying someone to hike the trail and send him the pictures (I love hiking!), doesn't drink "hot" beverages (I'd opt to be hooked up to a coffee IV) and thinks camping is cruel and unusual punishment unless equiped with camper and all modern conveniences known to man (I'm more of a "roughing it" minimalist camper).
I did not find out: if he had one week to live (and money was no object) what is the one thing he would want to do before he died, the biggest sin he's ever committed (in his defense, we could only remember 2 of the 7 deadly sins and then made a pack to rent Seven), his biggest passion right now and why he's never been engaged.
When we kissed goodnite I asked Ben if he was going to call me this weekend (he headed out of town this morning) - he said yes. This will be the test. If he does not call, there's no way I'm going out with him again. Oddly enough, it wouldn't bother me to end it.
We agreed we wouldn't be dating anyone else. Although to be accurate, he said it and I agreed so I didn't look like an asshole. Then, I deleted my profile.
I realize men are as different as snowflakes, but by date #3 I thought Liam was my soul mate. Sure, I was completely and utterly wrong. But this relationship (or whatever it is) is so different than what I'm used to. Ben has built a wall around him. Usually, I'm the one with the wall that someone needs to crawl over. So I find myself needing to climb over my wall to get over his wall. Not a position I'm used to.
It's a good thing I'm in fabulous shape.
Me: "I give up. I really have no clue about men anymore."
Funny Male Blogger Friend: "We are all different. Like snowflakes. Or nipples."
Me: "Ah huh. That's very deep [his name]. I hope one day I will be able to catch a snowflake on my tongue."
Funny Male Blogger Friend: "I feel the same way about nipples."
This has been a particularly busy dating week, with four dates within 7 days [my own personal record and not recommended]. I must qualify though that three of these dates were all with the same guy.
Perhaps it's because I've been on more first dates in the last year than my entire dating life combined, but I've begun to look forward to first dates much like how I look forward to an annual trip to the OB-GYN [Note: or a prostate exam if you're a guy]. This has no baring on how much I like a guy, I find first dates slightly unnerving and occasionally, horrific.
I prefer to have the guy pick me up at my house for two reasons: #1. I find this less awkward than wondering...is that him? Or wait, is that him, at the [insert location of first date here]. And #2. It gives me the opportunity to enjoy a glass (ok, ok, a glass and a half!) of white wine while getting ready, and thus steadies the nerves. Unless ofcourse our first date is something sporty where I'll need my wits and balance about me (think tennis, rock climbing, Scrabble or boche ball), then I down grade to half a glass. After all, I want to win.
On my first date with Ben* (* not his real name) he commented on how relaxed I was. I joked that "It must have been that wine I had" and then laughed. Ofcourse, he thought I was teasing.
Before picking me up, Ben confessed he was looking forward to our date. After all, he has never dated a redhead, never kissed a girl with braces and has never been to the drive-in. I playfully explained up front that I don't kiss on the first date. This is my one and only dating rule. He joked back, that he didn't either.
I'll admit, he smelled so mmmm mmmm good that I was extremely tempted to break my rule. But didn't.
Fast forward to date #3. Ben told me that I was the only girl he ever wanted to kiss on a first date and couldn't. There were lots of girls he didn't want to kiss and didn't, and probably even more girls he did want to and was able to, but I was the lone girl who held out until the next date.
Ben said it intrigued him. Persumable so, because he spent the next two dates trying to make up for lost time.
I guess my first date rule is my attempt to keep all guys on an even playing field to decide whether or not I want to see them again. Some guys have mistaken my lack of tonsil hockey for a lack of interest in them. Which is not always true. But I don't always tell them up front about my rule either, so I can see how this gets misinterpreted. After all, this is why the pilot did not ask me out on date #2.
Perhaps it is my way of testing a guy to see if he can respect my wishes. Perhaps I'm just full of shit. But I do know that it does not take a kiss for me to figure out whether I like a guy or not. If anything, a kiss may influence me to see a guy again that I have no real interest in.
This week I have just learned of the third date rule. I'm not sure how many guys are operating under this rule. I think I've only followed the rule once, and certainly not because I knew about it. I guess I'm a slow mover. Plus, if I slept with every guy I went on a third date...yowza! The grand total on my lover-ometer would be triple what it is.
I'm not sure I'll ever figure out this whole dating thing.
What the fuck? My blog is rated PG - parental guidance suggested.
Are you as fucking surprised as I am? And it's only PG because I've used the words "dead" and "dick". I know! I've also used crap and shit as least once. Not to mention fucko, bastard and ball licker. Ok, I didn't use ball licker. But maybe I fucking should. What's it take to get an R rating around here? Damn it all to H-E-double toothpicks. Er...hell. I mean hell.
And while I'm at it...how about tits. And arse. Tits and arse. There, I wrote it out. Instead of typing my usual "T & A" bullshit.
Oooo - and sex, sex, sex!
There PG rating! How do you like me now?
Oh. Now I'm rated R. And only because I used the word "sex".
Maybe I should have stuck with my PG rating and left out "sex". Then my blog could really imitate my life.
"Zen" noun. A school of Mahayana Buddhism that asserts that enlightenment can be attained through meditation, self-contemplation, and intuition rather than through faith and devotion.
"Date" noun. A particular point or period of time at which something happened or existed, or is expected to happen.
I've decided to get more "in touch" with [i.e. develop] my "spiritual side" [i.e. besides the occasional glass of rum. Oh who am I kidding?! The multiple glasses of rum. There!].
By reconnecting with the earth (or some kind of nonsense hippie crap like that) I will draw a more spiritually centered man into my life. I've become quite good at attracting wankers (ok, and the occasional good guy with the worst possible timing). I now feel ready to open my [well defined] arms to a man who has obtained a higher state of enlightenment.
After all, like attracts like. Except when opposites attract.
So, I made a list of things to incorporate into my daily life that will attract every priest within a 50 km radius (and hopefully a few non-denominational men who are not bound by a life of celibacy):
- increase yoga/ meditation practice
- buy new yoga outfit
- read back issues of Oprah magazine
- cry (probably while reading back issues of Oprah magazine)
- lay in a field of grass
- pray...when on the way to hospital after laying in field of grass without remembering to take allergy medication - up consumption of green tea from zero to 1
- week-long detox program
According to my calculations, in no time, me and my spiritually inclined manswich will be doing partner yoga like nobody's business. Just like this...
Today it was refreshing to find myself [wait...there's more]
