Why are people afraid of me?

A brief exchange with a fellow blogger got me thinking about this topic. It’s not about him in particular, but it was the final piece that mentally fell into place for me. Why do we have to be so afraid of articulating our interests and experiences that fall outside of what the world perceives to be mainstream?

I’d long forgotten about being “Freshly Pressed”, that coveted WordPress publicity that says to the blogging world you are not just a good writer, but you say something worth reading.

I remember when I first started blogging I would read those who were Freshly Pressed and notice with longing others who had that badge on their pages. I told myself I wasn’t a writer and would never achieve such a blessing from the blogging powers that be. It didn’t stop me from wanting it, however. It’s taken me a long time to get more comfortable with doing something knowing I won’t be the best at it. Continue reading

Christmas dinner turkey

The Plumber came over for Christmas, and other stories.

I write this from a country pub on the same property as the small cottage I’ve booked for myself the next two nights. It’s the kind of cottage I should be sharing with a lover or boyfriend. Fireplace, king bed, outdoor spa, indoor soaker tub, fluffy white bathrobes. But despite three men asking if they can join me, I’m staying here solo. Christmas dinner is over and my house (and I) have fully recovered.

I’m here to write. But what I’ve done so far is eat fish tacos, drink a large glass of local Chardonnay, unsuccessfully try to figure out how to import my posts into Scrivener, flirt with my hot bartender, talk to the adorable young couple next to me, and give the female some perspective on her parent’s divorce this summer, after 37 years of marriage. She was bereft that her Mom is already dating someone, who showed up for Christmas dinner.  Continue reading

Clearing the stable – for me.

I told my Instagram people on both my Ann St. Vincent and my real life account that I was taking a break for a while. I found myself doing dumb things like looking at certain men’s accounts who I was trying to move beyond. It was silly and unproductive.

I went through all of my messaging accounts and deleted the men who I was hoping would maybe come back, but knew they wouldn’t. In WhatsApp, I even deleted the archived exchanges (after downloading them, in case I ever wanted to reference them for the blog). The temptation is too strong when I see a text history.

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optimism and dating disappointment

Don’t let the douchebags get you down: optimism in dating

Expectation management: it’s a thing. Having no or low expectations means they are more likely to be exceeded. Hope is the enemy of expectation management. But what is better? Regular dating disappointment with occasional glimmers of excitement, or never having the pain?

In investing, we talk about risk-reward. High-risk investments are those more likely to provide higher gains. But they could also wipe out your savings. Conversely, advisors will tell you the earlier you can get in the market the better, even with small amounts and low-risk investment vehicles.

Given my experiences this year, I’ve been thinking about the number of dating disasters I’ve had. It occurred to me it could have more to do with the volume of men I’ve met, than consistent bad choices or inherent bad luck. In other words, if I’ve met one hundred men and had twenty crap experiences, it’s not a worse track record than someone who meets ten and has only two to speak of. Continue reading

I am vulnerable and off-kilter

In the absence of knowing exactly how I was “outed”, I feel extraordinarily vulnerable. I’ve contemplated several times this week making my blog private for a while, so I can figure out what to do.

It doesn’t help to see a comment in my spam filter which says (caps theirs): “WHEN YOU FUCK OTHER WOMENS HUSBANDS BEHIND THEIR BACKS EXPECT YOUR RELATIONSHIPS TO GET FUCKED WITH TOO”

Thanks to the reader who chose the username “YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID” to leave that gem for me.  Continue reading

First date

When server errors threaten my first date.

I was admittedly a little concerned I hadn’t heard back from Gregory. I know some people tend to reduce their communication pace after a date is booked, but to not reply to a text at all? While I told myself everything was fine, the cynical I’ve-had-the-worst-luck part of me was stomping her mental foot deep down. I wasn’t sure if this Tinder date was going to happen.

But my burner app had been flaking out and I’d been receiving sorry-the-server-is-down notifications, so I suspected it was that. I didn’t want to text again on the burner app, since if it didn’t work the first time there was no guarantee it would work the second.

I went back to Tinder.

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I’m recovering. Kinda.

This is going to be short. It’s late at night, I’ve had too much red wine, I’m tired, sad, and my gut hurts.

I had my gallbladder out a week ago. Those of you who follow me on Instagram would know, but I didn’t write about it. I’ve been recovering and just went back into the office today. I experienced a common after-effect of surgery – depression – which thankfully didn’t last but was disconcerting regardless.

The sadness lingers but yesterday I could finally feel it starting to lift. My middle still hurts but each day is an improvement. Bruce has been in touch most days to send me wishes that I’m feeling better. It comforts me he’s been in touch – perhaps he wasn’t lying about it not being me. He’s been consistent in that he’s not calling, not having long conversations. Which is fine. Continue reading

dumb ways to get a woman back

Alan and the cheese.

I like wine and cheese. Along with kissing, they provide some of my life’s greatest pleasure.

I guess I served Alan some great cheese (not uncommon) because he’s used it as the rationale to reach out to me three times since I broke it off. Well, he used other methods as well to try to see me again, the most memorable being a naked mirror selfie of himself with a hard-on, wearing a Trump mask.

Yes, you read that right.  Continue reading

a real dating fail

I knew better. Or did I?

Well, he lasted 5 days. I knew it was unlikely he would suddenly change his behavior, but I did have hope there would continue to be progress. After all, he said our date last week that he wanted to see more of me, and that he’d try to be more communicative. But yet, another dating fail.

But really, what kind of person says that, and hears someone say “look I get that you’re busy but all I’m asking for right now is that you don’t ignore my texts, and just 5 days later does exactly that?

I know how this will play out if I bothered to call him out on it: Continue reading

When time evaporates. 

Knowing he was likely in meetings all day, I didn’t bother trying to make plans with Kyle in advance. Despite a bad track record, we’d confirmed the previous day and we agreed to sort out the specifics the day of.

He knew I was going to see my personal trainer after work and I’d be free at 6pm. We’d agreed to meet in our neighbourhood (we live about 10 minutes apart) and to the time, so other than the place, there wasn’t much to confirm. Therefore I waited until I was leaving the gym to text, and we had the following exchange:  Continue reading