The excuses I've heard...

Aside from all the terrible experiences I reflect upon in this blog - there have also been dates that I actually enjoyed - or at least, there were dates that didn't immediately make me want to stab my knitting needles into my eyeballs.

And, of some of those dates - it was me getting the ol' dumperoo. But I still manage to find the humour in a number of those situations because the ways in which these men went about letting me know that 'they just weren't that into me' were pretty darn funny from time to time.

I had been on a few dates with a younger guy. He was nice-balding at 26-but still nice. He never took his ball cap off - but I caught a glimpse: balding with a slight case of ginger. That's sort of beside the point-despite it being an important thing to note.

So anyways, I have rather low expectations when agreeing to date a younger 'man' and a lot of them are thanks to this dude. My last date ended with him because he had to get home to watch Jersey Shore. No. Joke. Now, I still haven't decided if this was just a terrible, terrible excuse to end the date, or if he actually was that eager to go home to Snooki. Regardless of the answer to that question - no man that I'd want in my life would even consider mentioning 'watching Jersey Shore' without the following words being "is a more painful experience than being chewed to death by a rabid crocodile'.

I went on a first date with another fellow - older and a definitely step up from Young Baldy. But, this was one of those cases where I didn't do my research. It was a misstep that I often made. I forgot to look at his height. Now, I am not a jerk. But, I just cannot date a man who is shorter than me. It makes me feel like a giant beast woman - and that is not a feeling I enjoy having. (Important note: I am only 5'5" on a tall day).

Anyways, the height differential made this an improbable match, but I was open-minded, of course. The date was enjoyable. Nothing spectacular, but a slight chance that we'd form some sort of friendship. Until he decided to email me immediately following our date to tell me he had suddenly fallen back in love with an ex and would be attempting to put that relationship back together. No problem (bullshit - but no problem). I wished him well. Fast forward a few months - I had taken a short break from dating and was just recently back online: new profile, new photos, etc. ShortMan was one of the first people to message me! Except it was clear he didn't recognize me. I kindly reminded him who I was - and he vanished. Quel surprise. Maybe I was so much taller than him he forgot what my face looked like (as well as the sob story he provided me)? Or perhaps, maybe, he was just a small-statured douche bag who lacked not only height, but balls as well. 

The point I hoped to illustrate with these two examples is that it's important to take your ego out of the game when you're dating online. If you don't mesh with someone - tell them. You won't break their heart. You won't ruin their life. Trust me. It is entirely realistic to expect that you are only going to 'spark' with a very small percentage of the people you meet via computer - and it's respectful and mature to be straightforward with the person you plan on dumping like yesterday's trash. *finger snap x3* 

A flashback

Adam and I went to Chapters last week to stock up on some new books. I ended up buying this one  and this one. I think that may have been the first time any Chapters cashier witnessed that book purchase combination.

However, that's neither here nor there.

The Chapters we went to was also the location of one of the WORST dates I've EVER had. Ew. Yuck.

I can't remember his name, for which I'm grateful. This date occurred somewhere in the middle of my online dating lifespan. He was one of those borderline guys that I hemmed and hawed about for a while before agreeing to a date. By borderline, I mean - he could either be really ugly or kind of cute. Maybe borderline doesn't quite fit as a description. What I mean is that his pictures online looked decent. I guess you could say he had potential to go either way.

He went the bad way.

He sort of resembled that kid from A Christmas Story - all grown up. Not Ralphy (cause we all know that actually turned out well). I'm talking about the psycho Ginger (no offense cool Gingers I know) weasel kid:

Yeah. A grown up version of that guy. Not only did my 'date' look weird  - he WAS weird, man. First - he didn't know how to order from Starbucks. He asked if they had coffee. Second - he drank his coffee from a straw. 

I literally spoke three sentences the entire 1.5 hours we were there. He, in between straw sips of his hot, hot beverage, regaled me with stories from his childhood about how he wasn't hugged enough by his mommy. He made hugging motions around his own body to emphasize that fact. He was his own closed captioning - in case all his incessant babble had inadvertently deafened me, I think. 

This went on and on and on. I had actually given up any sort of attempt at discreetness in checking the time on my phone by this point. He actually watched me check the clock at least five times, all the while talking non-stop about his mommy - completely unphased.

Luckily for me, he soon switched topics - he wanted to tell me about his job as a janitor at an old age home. And let me tell you, I was completely misinformed about the work of old age home janitors. They save lives, people. They. save. lives. Or he did, at least. Those elderly men and women all would have died long, lonely deaths if he and his trusty mop weren't around. He seemed to be the McDreamy of retirement residences. McMoppy. 

After covering his emotional childhood scars, his life saving janitorial work and eventually, his ritual of burning ex girlfriends belongings - I just stood up and said I had to leave.

I didn't hug him either. His mom would have been proud of me. 

Oh this is my title because I didn't think I'd actually finish the entry and now that I have I don't feel like coming up with a snazzy title

Six people follow my blog. That's cool, man. Sorry I rarely write anything. I often start crafting something and then chicken out for fear of what people might think. Well, six of you, I'll do my best to actually finish this attempt at a post so that you may all rejoice in my re-appearance in your blog-feed. 

I typically pick up blogging again when something changes in my life. Weight loss, dating, pregnancy. I've been pregnant now for 22 weeks and each of those weeks I've thought that I should start blogging about the 987 things that suck about being pregnant and the two things that don't. 

But to be honest, I've found so many other fantastic pregnancy blogs that I've decided, on your behalf (you're welcome), that the last thing this world needs is another baby blog. 

So, what does this world need? 

A little of this:

Yup. 

But, creating a blog solely to discuss my teeny obsession with Brett Lawrie  would not only make me an incredibly creepy old woman (he's ten years younger than me), I can't imagine my husband would be too happy. 

So, with a huge gaping black hole in my quest for blog ideas (not to mention, my soul) - I reflected back on what I most enjoyed blogging about in the past. And, turns out, I love talking about online dating. Now, speaking of topics my husband wouldn't be thrilled to see me write about - I need to clarify. 

I met Adam (husband) online, along with a slew of other characters (both good and very, VERY bad). And although the concept of online dating has definitely surpassed the 'only creeps do it' level of societal acceptance, I still feel it gets a bum rap. 

Many of my friends have tried online dating, met a few weirdos and subsequently gave up. And this, I fear, is the story of too many women who attempt to date via computer. 

I had a (mostly) positive experience dating online. Not only did I meet Adam - the best person ever - I also made a few great friends along the way. But for the handful of excellent folks I came to know via my online dating extravaganza, there were about 78 douche bags I was also unfortunate enough to encounter---most of them who I met at the beginning of my online dating experience. And, had I given up after a date where I literally got ditched half-way through (with the bill), or after a date which consisted of sippingTim Horton's coffee while parked in a van on the side of my street (and yes, how I WISH I could've said down by the river), then I would've never met my husband or my friends the Pilot, the Army Guy and The Canuck-Turned Yankee-Turned Canuck Again. 

These people made all the douchebaggery worth it. I am happy to have new friends and I am the happiest I've ever been to be married to my husband. 

So, with this semi-boring introduction out of the way, I've decided to continue to talk about the world of online dating. Obviously I won't be recounting any personal stories, but I do want to share my experiences, my tips, my advice and hopefully some funny stories from others who are in the midst of 'the battle'. 

I often hear people say that online dating is just the same as meeting someone in a bar - but let's face it - it's SO much better. There are no dirty, sweaty semi-aroused men rubbing up against you, you can log in wearing track pants, zit cream and a Warrant t-shirt and still be able to chat with good-looking men AND there are literally hundreds, if not thousands, of less-attractive people than you at your fingertips. Judge them. Feel better about yourself. It's all part of the fun. 

Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels

Does anyone else detest that mantra?

I can't stand it. I think it is everything that is wrong with the idea of weight loss and how our minds are warped into seeing ourselves as not good enough.

When I read this phrase, my mind conjures up a vision of a sick, pale,skeletal young woman staring into her fridge, slamming the door shut and walking away reminding herself of how good it feels to be thin.

And I used to try and subscribe to that way of thinking. I thought it was the way I needed to think in order to lose the weight I wanted to lose. I used to try and drill this phrase into my head - but, in hindsight, it was usually in line at McDonald's or while dialing up my local pizzeria. Ok - mantra not working - pizza tastes better than being thin. WTF is wrong with me? Why can't I taste thin? Does it taste better than melted cheese on a thick greasy crust? I don't know.

All I do know, is that phrase was good at one thing only - making me feel like shit. I love food. I love eating. I enjoy it. And that is bad? Yes, that is bad. I won't be thin because I love food. Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels. Well, I'm sorry, but that sounds more like the international slogan of anorexia than a healthy mantra for women who want to lose weight.

So, I stopped buying into it. And any time someone else shares that 'mantra' with me, I tell them that they're wrong. And then I pull out a giant bowl of poutine from my jacket pocket and start eating it right in front of them to prove my point.

OK, that's just what I do in my mind. But it makes sense. Yes, feeling healthy (not THIN) feels great. Buying a smaller size feels good too. But pints and poutine on a patio after work on a Friday in July? That feels AMAZING. And guess what? I'll be wearing my smaller-sized pants on that patio, eating my fries and drinking my beer - because it's not one or the other, and it never has been.

The shift

I have, in the past, been hesitant to talk about, blog about, post about anything to do with fitness (or anything I do well, to be quite frank). Why? Well, cynicism mostly---directed mainly at myself. I am my own bully. The minute I start to share a success or an accomplishment I start reminding myself of the million things I perceive to be wrong with me and hit the 'delete without saving' button.

But, I'm going to stop that now.

I'm going to stop using me as my own punching bag. There are a number of reasons why - and I will be sharing those in different posts, of course.

But it was over my daily lunch hour work out that I really starting thinking this through, and this is why I'm sharing a bit about my struggle with fitness and shaking that mindset that I'm going to fail.

A little background

 I have a history of being consistently inconsistent. You know, one of those people who goes to the gym for three months - hardcore, talks about it constantly, morphs their self-identity into 'the one who works out all the time'- then stops completely and is left wearing her Lululemon to the movies (eating XL bags of popcorn, of course) instead of to the gym.

It wasn't for lack of desire to get in shape and be healthy. I went to all sorts of lengths to try and keep myself motivated. I'd post pictures of skinny, bikini-clad women on my fridge, I'd create or join fitness-focussed Facebook groups to feed off the successes of others, I'd download apps, I subscribed to Women's Health, I'd sign up for 5K runs.

I did this over and over and over again but without success: never seeing results, cancelling subscriptions, cancelling gym memberships, cancelling race entries- it took a toll on my resolve and self esteem. It got much easier to believe that I really can't do it; that I shouldn't even try.

And that mindset has always been why I've stopped short of celebrating my successes and milestones with many people-let alone in a public venue. My own voice would scream back at me. You're just gonna quit again. You're overweight, nobody is going to believe that you're going to stick with the gym this time. People can see right through you, they know it's not going to last. Terrible things to say, right? And, in my mind, if I was thinking those things surely other people were too.

Then something magical happened - like, unicorn magical. A thought occurred, and for once, it stuck.


Those things just aren't true (well, actually it ended with a DUH, but that didn't sound very encouraging...)


I had concrete evidence that even I couldn't dispute. Holy shitballs, I've been going to the gym, consistently, for two years! I've actually had to buy new gym clothes, not because I'd outgrown my old ones, but because I'd sweat so much in them that just wouldn't stop stinking-no matter how often I wash them.

I did it. I'm IN. I can't deny it, and I stopped trying. The gym administration knows me. The super-fit girls invite me to boot camp with them. I've had pints with the trainer. And as much as I'd like to attribute this to some weird coincidence or pity-fueled inclusionary scheme - I can't. I've done it all myself. And I'm proud of it.

So, how did this happen?

Getting to this point was no easy feat. And to be quite honest, it was a struggle to figure out exactly how it happened---how I became consistent, how I figured out a way to motivate myself without the use of external sources. But I have some ideas, of course. Why would I be writing this if I didn't?

To be clear, though. My reasons and insights aren't the ones you read about in health magazines or on popular diet websites. I didn't have an epiphany, I didn't have a health scare. And I'm not the 'after' product of an inspirational weight loss story. I'm still very much somewhere in the middle. I'm still overweight, I still eat things that are bad for me and I still miss workouts. But the difference is - I've kept going back and I haven't resigned myself to a life of being a serial quitter.

Can you relate to me? 

I'm not going to ever subscribe to clean eating, to a vegan lifestyle and I will always love beer and Big Macs. I am not looking to overhaul my current lifestyle. I'm just making enough of a shift that I stay happy, let go of the self-sabotage and enjoy being me.

Stay tuned!

Awful date #2

The midget who left me short

This date is probably my favorite one to tell people. It was the kind of thing that I had really only seen on t.v. or in bad country music videos. Until now.

So, typical internet dating story line.

He messaged me, I verified that he a) was human b) could spell at least 85% of his words properly and c) was over 5 ft 2 (more to come on this later....).

We exchanged numbers and a texting relationship commenced. Simple enough.

I have a time limit when it comes to texting, however. And here's why.

If you don't buck up and ask me out within a 3-4 day span, it is safe to assume that you're either way fatter than you claim OR you're married. Each possibility is equally gross (double gross if you're both fat AND married).

So, this dude was pushing my 4 day texting limit, but was funny and smart enough to warrant me taking the first stab at a date. So, I throw out my flirtiest emoticons and suggest maybe he take me out sometime.

Now, this should've been my first sign that he was odd. He would agree with me that yes, we should hang out, but then never actually suggest anything.

Ok, so it's a bit strange, but I give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he's just a bit shy. Fair enough. He is ON a dating site after all. That typically implies that one is ready to date. Right?

Finally, we manage to make tentative Friday night plans. I was going to be out to dinner with some friends downtown, and so I suggested he come meet up with me later and we'd go somewhere together. He agreed. All good.

As I'm sitting having dinner with my friends, he texts me non-stop, asking what I'm doing, am I still with my friends, do I still want to meet, etc etc. It's getting late, and he's still sitting at home texting me, instead of driving down to commence our actual "date". Hmmm.

So, at this point, I'm over it. I tell him not to bother coming down, as it was getting late and I was tired and ready to go home. Well, all of a sudden, dude is magically on his way down to meet me.

"No, don't leave!"

"I'm almost there. Please stay. I'm so excited to meet you."

Sigh. I had planned on splitting a cab home with my buddy, as it was going to save each of us a few bucks. But, my buddy convinced me to stay, go on my date, and then meet up with him afterwards for post-date analysis.

I agreed.

We had already left the restaurant and so I just headed down the street to another spot and told the guy I'd meet him there. I wait for another 15 minutes for him to show.

Finally I see him out the window. Crap. Hoodie, skinny jeans, and NOT 5'2. Double crap. I had spent all this time waiting to go on a date with freakin' Billy Talent.

Well, again, I'm pretty easy-going, so I hope for the best and put on my biggest first date smile and the date begins. The conversation is decent, somewhat awkward, but definitely not intolerable. Ok, ok, all might not be lost here. I mean, he did seem a bit twitchy, but again, I chalked it up to shyness and carried on.

So midget dude's phone 'goes off' and he says he'll be right back.

Five minutes later. He's not back.

Ten minutes later. He's not back.

It suddenly occurs to me that he isn't coming back. Oh. Em. Gee.

I text him: "Did you seriously leave?".

Immediately he writes back: "Yah, sorry, I had to go".

Uh, what? That's it?

So, I inform him, very nicely, that we are adults and there are ways to end dates that don't involve faking phone calls and running away. He said it was too awkward and he has a hard time with confrontation. Soooooooooo, of course, the obvious solution is to just plain leave.

Oh, and stick me with his $2.50 pepsi tab. Jerk.

Anyways, after I explain to him that he's pretty much wasted my night, he starts messaging me like crazy, all over again, saying how terrible he feels now, and that he wants to come back, and it's just that it's been so long since he's been on a date.

Now it's clear to me that this guy is just an emo-dork with no clue about interacting with women.

Anger wears off, the funny starts to take over.

I wish him luck and head back to my buddy's place for a few laughs.

He texts me the next day asking me out again.

Memoirs of an internet dating account

Well, it is with great pleasure that I can announce the retirement of my internet dating career. It was a good run and I had some good times, but man it feels good to date in 3D again.

Was it worth it? Absolutely.

Not only did I end up meeting someone fantastic, and even a few new friends, I also have at least 20 cocktail parties worth of horrible dating stories.

Not planning on being at a cocktail party with me anytime soon? No problem. You can just read about each and every horrendous date right here.

Starting.....................

Now.

Awful date 1.

The Van down by the River

Ok, so it wasn't down by a river, but it was a van, and it was down by my house.

That's right. This guy's idea of a first date was coffee, in his company van, parked around the corner from my house.

Now, I take full blame for actually agreeing to go on this date, but for the record, the initial invitation involved the phrases "pick you up in my company van" and "go sit at a coffee shop", not "pick you up in my company van" and "that's all I'm going to do".

So, this dude shows up at my place, texts me to tell me he's outside waiting (bad date sign #1) and I head out to meet him. I hop in his van, greet a giant man who resembles an overweight Lex Luger, and we proceed to drive to our date destination. Three seconds later: arrive at date destination. He parallel parks in between two cars, hands me my coffee and tells me he can't actually go to a coffee shop because he's on-duty. Huh?

Alright, so I'm a pretty 'go with the flow' kind of person, and I try to make the best of the situation. We chat about his daughter, his job, his interests, his family---the usual first date conversation. The only problem was that throughout the entire conversation, he was staring straight ahead, looking out his windshield. Not once, aside from letting me in the car, did he actually look in my direction, save the occasional swift glance, which I'm assuming was just to make sure I was still there (he didn't really let me talk much).

Anyways, nearing what I thought was the end of our 'date', I discover he knows a bit about gas and heating. I use one of the two opportunities I had to speak to let him know about a problem I was having with my electric fireplace. He offers to have a look, telling me he can most likely fix it. I hesitated, but agreed. I figured at the very least, I could get a working fireplace out of this date.

So, I let him in, and he has the thing fixed in about five minutes. Perfect.

In my mind, this is the end of the date. I thank him and give the standard "I had a good time" line, but as I'm saying this, I'm also watching him sit down on my couch.

Ok? So maybe he had some more really interesting things to say.

I sit down, on my other couch, and he proceeds to provide me with his insights and opinions on first dates. He suggests, as an alternative to a 'stereotypical' first date, that we "pretend" we're a long-term couple and that I call him a pet name and he would do the same for me. He rationalizes "Well, at this point, we have nothing. So let's pretend we have each other. Let's pretend we're in love".

Uh, yah. So, turns out I was wrong about before. This was the end of the date.

Funny enough, I never heard from him again.

My loss. Definitely my loss.