The dirty poet.

The man who referred to himself as a poet peppered his texts with “you’re such a little sweetheart” and sunflower emojis. When we met at a downtown bar for an after-work drink, my first thought was he might be bisexual. He had that way about him.

He’s in his mid-fifties and after ending his 25-year marriage, he got a tattoo, a nipple ring, and earrings in both ears. He’s in the film industry in an artistic role.

When I departed that first date, he stayed seated on the barstool, we hugged and he gave me what I would call a quick peck on the lips. Later, he professed via text how excited that kiss got him. He said he felt a spark.

Huh?  Continue reading

Men who work with their hands.

I was fed up with the bullshit of recent events. It got so bad, my personal trainer, hearing a new disaster or story every week, asked me if I played the lottery because my luck was so bad with men it had to be good elsewhere.

So one recent night, bolstered with a bit of liquid courage, I said “fuck this shit”. If I really wanted someone in my life, I needed to seriously get back in the game. I had opened my Bumble profile a few weeks prior and it was lackluster so far – quite literally, nothing to write about.

I already had open profiles on Coffee Meets Bagel and the League, both which took about 5 minutes of effort each day to say whether I liked the one or two men they served up, and yielded absolutely nothing.  Continue reading

No, you’re not going crazy.

Edit: I removed the ability to make comments on this post. Given what was being said, it’s the kind of commentary I didn’t want my friend to have to read – one reason I didn’t post the whole story in the first place. I was angry, but I’ve moved past it. Life is too short and friendships are too valuable. I know you’ll understand.

::

Some of you may have seen a notification of a post called “Well that was a bad idea.” You’re not crazy. But it was published and taken down within a matter of minutes. It was a mistake.

It doesn’t happen often that I elect to take down posts – in fact, only twice in the history of my blog. When I was breaking up with fellow blogger Johnny Id I steadfastly refused to do anything but post it all here. We met as bloggers, he knew I wrote about everything, and I prioritized my need to keep this space as my own, with my truth, over keeping it private between us.  It was divisive and ugly.

There’s a difference between knowing the truth and seeing it shared publicly.

However, the story of Ali / Sevag / HWSNBN was removed because I was quite literally being threatened. My personal safety was in question and as much as I wanted to keep the story up, it wasn’t worth the risk.

This time, the thing that is a risk is a friendship, and ultimately, as much as I wrote a post that I think is balanced and fair, and is from my perspective, there’s a friend on the other end.

So what the fuck happened,? I met that guy for a coffee date. It was amazing: the aftermath wasn’t. Turns out I shouldn’t go on dates where there are blurred lines between the guy and one of my friends. I should have known better. So it’s done with him.

#clusterfuck

Am I the douchebag?

“At least I’m self-aware,” I say to my friends. But it’s no excuse, really. I’m conflicted about how to behave in the dating gray area I’m in.

I’m all about intention. Meaning, I care what someone’s intention is with me – their purpose for interacting with me and their end goal. I am dating Bruce (which I think I still call it even though I’ve only seen him once for 45 minutes in 5 weeks, yet talked on the phone almost every day) with the intention of seeing if he’s relationship material. I have told him that.

If I have sex with Lewis, it’s with no intention of developing anything deeper. He is the same. We are aligned and clear on the nature of our “relationship”. Jake and I each know we have fun together but mutually agreed we won’t ever be anything more than sex buddies. We are both cool with that. Continue reading

I’m back, with a few things to report.

I’m back from my 2.5 week vacation with Liam. It was a lot of fun, although my wallet was stolen by pickpocketers in Madrid which really sucked. I didn’t feel a thing and they got it out of a purse. Such is life.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been off for more than two weeks. It was a great break. I didn’t think about work (much), and I was able to get the hurt of Jack out of my system – which I didn’t really try to do but just realized one day I hadn’t been thinking about him. Perfect. Continue reading

Trying to relax with Bruce.

Thankfully, it wasn’t over after sex with Bruce on the second date. We exchanged a few texts as he drove home – an almost hour-long drive – and he called me “sweetie” when he texted goodnight. But I still had dating anxiety.

The next morning I sent a good morning text and we had a brief exchange. Mid-morning he checked in to say he hoped I was having a good day. We had another exchange at the end of the day. All consistent with the days prior.

That night I was at a sporting event with a close friend. A man who reminds me a bit of Bruce, actually, and Bruce and I bantered off and on throughout the game. I asked whether he was used to a woman squirting since he seemed pretty chill about it. Continue reading

Bruce: he of the magic…

Bruce and I had our second date the evening he came back from a vacation with friends and family. Because he didn’t know exactly what the drive would be like, we didn’t have an exact time set.

He kept in touch with me though and I found it quite courteous. He called the moment he had steady cell service – with his kids in the car – to give me an update on the rough time. He also called when he finally got home, and then when he was about 15 minutes away.

Such a stark contrast to Kyle, where I was left wondering whether our dates were still on, hours before they were supposed to occur. 

Bruce and I hadn’t talked about what we were going to do, so the default was dinner somewhere in my neighbourhood. He knocked on my door and didn’t greet me with a kiss.

I wasn’t fussed – he seems ever so slightly awkward in these situations. After all, I had to ask him to kiss me goodbye on our first date. He was super game once I broke the seal, but he seemed rather clueless until then. 

He said as much to me on our first date – that he doesn’t know when women are hitting on him. It’s hard to believe a tall, handsome, and muscular guy doesn’t have good game, but he genuinely seems to not.

Or he’s a player and he knows exactly what playing dumb does to a woman. But that’s a hooded Kermit thought right there.

I offered him a beer and after he checked out my main floor and I poured myself a drink, we sat on my couch and talked. After our second drinks, we decided it was time to go eat – it was already 9:30pm.

whoops! I hit publish instead of “save draft”… so I’m gonna leave this here but I didn’t mean to write a cliffhanger!

He’s a lying sack of shit.

Jack and I spoke last week midweek. I’m not sure I will ever speak to him again.

He’d asked for a copy of the dating story about us I’d written for a local paper. We’d had a brief text exchange in which he said “you can text me anytime”, to which I replied given he was so bad at responding with any speed it didn’t make me want to text him. He said he was in therapy and was learning that not replying was a form of control for him.

I called him because I didn’t want my reply to be spread out over the course of several days. I said my issue was that a lack of response was inconsiderate and disrespectful. He sounded like crap. I asked if the therapy was helping and he said he’d had only two sessions so far. He said he’d talked to his ex-girlfriend which helped him process things, but she had little time for it because she had already worked through it. Shocker. Continue reading

The world is small, the dating world, smaller.

Two of my friends are freshly separated – less than a year. They are in the midst of negotiating settlements and getting used to their new normal. Both have recently started dating and we have an ongoing three-way text chat to share our highs and lows. And dick pics.

The first friend is looking only for casual sex. She’s on Adult Friend Finder. One guy she met had the same name as someone I went on one date with, perhaps three years ago. It’s not a common name but not rare, either. She shared a picture (as we tend to do) and I didn’t recognize him.

They went on a date a week or so later. She mentioned they went back to his place, where it was located, and that he had some erection trouble. My spidey sense tingled. “Hey, can you share a pic?” I asked, via text. 

Oh good lord.

It was the same guy. The first pic he had sunglasses on but the second was his LinkedIn profile.

The hilarity ensued. I don’t think I wrote about him – if I did it’s buried in a text about dating fails – because as nice as our date was, he was weird when we got back to his place and he wasn’t able to perform. Hence why he’s not on my “men I had sex with” list.

What we both found funny is we are polar opposites in looks – I’m blonde, fair, and curvy, and she is a dark-skinned, lithe athlete. He has good taste, that’s for sure.

They had a rather chill fuck buddy situation for several weeks. She never told him we knew each other lest it freak him out. 

Then yesterday I was hanging out with the other friend. She’d had a good first date with a man named Leo who was from the same country as my Leo. But not the same guy – we checked. I asked her if she had any more dates lined up.

“Not really,” she said, “but there’s another guy from [foreign country] who is there right now but I may see him when he’s back”.

Hmm. Same country as someone I used to date. But that’s common. Still.

“What’s his name?”

“Sevag.”

Ummm. 

“Hey do you have a picture?” 

It was him. He Who Shall Not Be Named. I told her the highlights of our story, which are removed from the blog – the intense first few dates, his third date declaration of love, his stalking my social media which led to his finding my blog, his descent into crazy jealousy, the threats and the police getting involved.

She isn’t going to keep in touch with him. I hated being the bearer of bad news, but she doesn’t like what she now knows he’s capable of.

Oh, and she used to be best friends with Tony’s again-wife, and she’s work friends with Jack’s ex-wife.

I live in a big city and continue to be amazed at how small it seems to be. I suspect this will keep happening. 

Dream, and make it real.

I dream, but I rarely remember them. It seems to happen only when I wake up for a few minutes, then go back to sleep.

Last night I slept the fitful sleep of someone who had two wine dates with girlfriends in the same evening. At 3 am I drank lots of water and took ibuprofen to avoid the inevitable over-imbibing headache.

I dreamt I was traveling to Faraway Lover’s town. My hotel room phone was missing the handset, so I went to the lobby and asked for help to make a phone call. I ended up in a call center, where I tried to call his number. It didn’t work: I couldn’t get through.  Continue reading