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

When attraction is timeless.

Claude rang the buzzer many flights down in our apartment building with no lift. He’s fit but it still took him a while to get up all of the stairs. He looked exactly as I expected. Yes, twenty years older, but the man I remembered. We greeted with kisses on each cheek and a lingering hug.

He said hello to Liam, who was distracted with his iPad. Claude and I went upstairs: he’d brought snacks and drinks. He was a good caregiver the few days and evenings we spent together. As independent as I am, I like a man who has the right balance of respecting me as an equal and knowing when I need water or proactively ordering me a glass of cava.  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

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. 

It’s still good.

I haven’t had much to say that’s new this week. The death of my friend definitely had an impact – it’s hard to talk about the excitement of a relationship when I’m also in mourning.

But Jack and I are good. Really good. We learn more about each other with every conversation, and I like what I hear. He is appreciative of my patience with his schedule issues (but really, what kind of selfish asshole would make an issue of his regular hospital visits to a sick parent?) and with my desire to understand his quirks.

It’s not one-sided. He knows I like a couple of quick check-ins during the day (not mandatory but nice) and he’s doing 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

Travel drama replaces man drama. 

A cousin of mine lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, and her son and mine got along famously the last time we had a family reunion. For almost two years, Liam has asked when we would visit: we chose Easter weekend.
I’ve never had such a comedy of errors while travelling, and for someone who has done a significant amount of business and personal travel, that’s saying something. Continue reading