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

Freaking men out by my boldness, one interaction at a time.

“You scare me a little bit with how direct you are, Ann,” the 54 year old creative type texted last night. “Remember, I write poetry.” Sigh. 

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I disliked most poetry: it’s not my thing. After our brief after-dinner drink last week, he’s been communicative and sweet. He told me he couldn’t stop thinking about me and felt like a teenager. But he’s too saccharine at times – he said I was a “little sweetheart”, two words I would ever use to describe myself.

We will see how the second date goes, when we get to it.

::

One of the contractors and I were supposed to meet last night. For a rough around the edges guy, he’d been remarkably responsive and kind. 

We aren’t soul mates, but over a shared platter of nachos we talked about astrological signs and his pet snakes (!) and I stared at his muscular hands and forearms.

We aren’t soul mates, but I’d fuck him.

We had plans for a second date drink in my neighbourhood. My plan was to have a couple of drinks then take him back to my place. We’d confirmed just a couple of hours before, but when I sent him the exact address he didn’t reply.

Texting with two girlfriends, the consensus was he was an insensitive jerk who had stood me up. It didn’t feel right, but it was odd.

A couple of hours later he texted “Ann I’m so so sorry… I fell asleep on my couch.” We spoke on the phone. 

He was sincere.

I was horny. 

It was 10 pm. I hadn’t had sex in three weeks. I asked him what he thought about still coming over. I told him it was definitely now booty call territory.

“Ummm, yeah, that’s cool… is that what you want?” He asked, clearly not used to such transparency. 

“Too transparent?” I asked.

“No, not at all. If you want me to come over, I’m all good. I will follow your lead.”

“Well, I need the stress release. Come on over.”

He was nervous as fuck. A ball of jittery energy. But he got over it enough to prove he had mad oral skills, a functioning average penis, and really, really, strong arms.

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

When kissing leads to a cancelled date

I had a sore throat on my first date with Bruce. I didn’t think much of it, or better said, I wasn’t going to think about what it could mean. I was still in denial. The day after I woke up feeling terrible and worked from home. I’m a big believer in not coming into the office with a contagion.

We kissed each other goodbye on the Wednesday. I was sick through Monday, when I saw him for our second date. He’d been away and I hadn’t mentioned not feeling well. I didn’t want to sound sickly to a guy I’d just started dating. It’s a sore point – my ex always gave me a hard time for staying home when I didn’t feel well. 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 (2)

I hit “publish” by mistake on the previous post. Whoops. I wasn’t going to create a cliffhanger, but those of you who follow me on Twitter already know what I was going to say.

Bruce and I decided to leave my couch and go for dinner. As he moved to stand up I said “ummm can I kiss you before we go?” and he immediately said “yes”, shaking his head to himself as if to say “Bruce you are such a dummy” as he leaned in to kiss me. At least, that’s what I’m hoping the reaction was.

It was as good as the first kiss on our first date. Perhaps better, because it lasted way longer. 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!

Some rules are made to be broken.

It started with a simple status update on FetLife, a site I haven’t been active on in eighteen months. I’d gone to reply to a message from a photographer who wanted to do a photo shoot with me and noticed I still referenced Tony in my profile.

I must have shown up on search results because within 24 hours I received several messages from men. One stood out:

“Loved your profile, I like women who enjoy being shared, double penetration, gangbangs. I don’t post much on my profile, I am somewhat old fashioned in this regard, I like approaching someone I consider interesting. Continue reading

dating like teenagers

What are we, 16?

There was the epic makeout session that felt like the long-ago days of being in the basement, listening for parents feet on the stairs so as not to get caught with tongues down throats and hands down pants. The early days of dating can be so much fun.

There is the feeling of not being able to get enough of someone.

I’m not relationship dumb like I was at 16, but it doesn’t mean I’m not acting like a teen at times. Continue reading

Cognitive biases are dangerous in dating.

Confirmation bias: The tendency to interpret new evidence as confirmation of one’s existing beliefs or theories.

In other words, once we believe something to be true, we ignore evidence that contradicts said belief and focus on the evidence that does.

This can work in your favor if people think you’re good at your job, or you’re smart, or any other positive attribute. But there are downsides. Once someone has doubts about you, it is incredibly difficult for you to overcome them.

We all have these cognitive biases (there are so many!), and being aware of them is the first step to moving past them. Continue reading