Am I Welcome At Your Place?

Dear Men in Bars,

Just because you buy a woman a drink, and she accepts, does not mean she wants to have you come home with her.

Please understand that.

Sincerely,

The Woman Who's Pants You Want Into

The Best ATTEMPT at a One Night Stand

I wrote this blog back in July, when the event occured. I have decided now to post it:

The reason I am writing this post is because the man I've called France has come back to town. We've been keeping in touch and he's been trying to come back to see me since the day he left. He's finally come back!

The thing about one night stands that makes the next "date" the hardest is that you never know what to expect, or what you SHOULD expect. I'll be honest that I'm writing this part of the blog previous to seeing him again. I got a text this morning at 7am saying that he would text me when he lands in Toronto. I have a nervous disposition today because I'm not sure what to expect tonight. Obviously some things are to be expected, but how does one behave towards the man who is flying across the planet for her? I still don't know this man very well, as most of our messages back and forth have been short text messages about where on the planet he is, or what I'm up to that weekend. There hasn't been anything more than small talk since the night we met. I'm excited to see him again, but I'm also extremely nervous.

...

Well, my 20 hour interlude with France is over and I'm back home again to think about every minute and write about him. My friend Caroline (the one who was with me the first time I met him) and I met him in the same bar as last time at exactly 8pm. I suppose I could mention that this was probably the first time in a year I've actually been nervous when going to meet up with someone. The moment we walked in, I saw him standing by the bar. He kissed me on the cheek, as the French do, and I completely relaxed. We got a table and sat to eat and drink. A few more friends joined us and it wasn't until France got up to use the restroom that he leaned over and kissed me. He had held my hand across the table for a few minutes, but the kiss was delightful. The evening continued with more drinks and chatting about everything and anything. At 10 p.m. our time, France had been awake for 24 hours, but he didnt complain. He must have known that I wanted to be out with my friends and that if he wanted to see me, that's where he would see me.

At 1 a.m. I asked France if he'd like to go. He said he would and so we said our goodbyes to my friends and left together. Caroline and I had already decided that she would hold my key in case such an event were to happen that I would not be coming home with her (which clearly we had already admitted that I would not be coming home with her). France and I left the bar and crossed the street and entered his hotel in the same cool manner in which we had done three months ago. It was really quite easy, which may sound strange, but seeing as how I'm still not "one of those girls", admitting to myself that I was going back to someone's hotel room whom I had only met once before (even given the outcome of that chance encounter) is a completely foreign concept to me. I would never do this otherwise. The first time, I had not even known if I woud ever see him again. This time, I am certain that I will.

Again, I will kiss and tell, but details are not necessary. I will say that we enjoyed each other's company and fell asleep beside one another. When we woke up in the morning, we talked and talked. Eventually, we fell back asleep for a little while and then it was time to get up and go have breakfast. I went home to shower, change and pick up Caroline. She and I went back to the hotel to pick up France and we all went for breakfast. It was lovely out, and very hot. After breakfast, Caroline left to go back home and France and I decided to take a walk down to the lake. We walked along the boardwalk holding hands and talking about everything we could think of. It was very... couply. I found myself wanting to run into someone I knew. I'm still not sure why, and I have no idea how I would have explained who France is and how I really know him, but I think I just wanted to be seen with him. I have nothing left of him at this moment other than the memories in my head; nothing to awknowledge that he was really here. We both kept pinching ourselves to make sure it wasn't a dream!

When I left him at his hotel this afternoon at 4 p.m. it was not because I wanted to go, but because I hate goodbyes. I couldn't bear to drag it out. He was getting ready to leave and I didn't want to watch him pack. It's not that I've fallen for him or anything, it's only that I really enjoyed spending time with him (much more time than last time) and he is such an affectionate person that I could really get used to that. Watching him go is like waiting for a slap in the face to remind me that most North American men are not affectionate, and are really rather more raging sexual creatures than they are sensual romantics.

I know that in my future, I will see him again, and I look forward to that day.

He Called Me Fat

The smoothness of Caribbean men can only be described as that: smooth. Yesterday I was sitting with a new friend of mine who I happen to be interested in, and he in me. We were having a beer at a local pub when the conversation turned to age. He is 29 and I am younger than that. He told me that when he first met me, he would have guessed me at 21, but seeing my eyes, he could see the years on me.

What?

Did he just call me old??

He of course didn’t mean it that way. He only meant that he could tell that I was not the fresh-faced 21-year-old that I once was, and that I have more years and knowledge (and probably stress) and that I don’t actually look 21 when you look closer. He appreciates that I’m not 21 and don’t have the mind-set of a 21-year-old girl anymore. (If you are 21, or still behave 21, that comment was not meant to offend you. Be who you are and live every moment at whatever age you want to!)

It pains me to say that I agree with him, I don’t look 21, but how he managed to tell me I look my age, and still keep me wanting to see him the next day by the time the glasses emptied, is beyond me. No, I was not drunk. I only had one, and while some people in my life would tell me that sniffing a bottle cap gets me drunk, it really doesn’t.

Later on we were BBMing when he made the remark that he likes girls who have a little flesh on them. My response was “Are you calling me fat? LOL. Don’t answer that”.

Let me just say for the record that I am not fat. Not remotely. I have curves, and I’m not a skinny little thing, but I certainly can’t be described as fat. We laughed off both comments and he told me that he doesn’t like really skinny girls, which somewhat makes me feel better and re-affirms my belief that while guys might fantasize about being with a model, in the end, they all want a woman with a normal woman body, cellulite and all.

So ladies, while your man might not be a as smooth as Mr. Caribbean to be able to call you old and fat in one day, and still have you thinking about them and wanting to see them the next day, if they tell you its what they like, believe them. Men appreciate a woman with a head on her shoulders and little something to grab onto around the waist (or booty).

And gents, please, please don’t try to tell your woman you like how old she looks or that she’s got a little junk in the trunk. Many women are not nearly as secure with themselves as I am and might get offended if you tell them they’ve aged and things don’t look the way they did at 21!

No Bueno

As I said in my last blog, I am in Spain. I have been here for a few months now, so I feel the need to make a little comparison between the approaches of men on the street in Southern Ontario, and those here on the streets of Barcelona.

The men in Toronto, where I’ve spent most of my serious man-noticing time, either avoid eye-contact all together, or they say something under their breath at you like “hey, gorgeous” or “you’re looking good” or the like. It’s pretty much something that you can turn, say “thank you” to and then keep walking on your way to whatever you’re going to (hopefully a date with a man who is much better looking than the one complimenting you at Queen and Victoria or a streetcar stop).

The men here in Barca are very different however. I can’t always understand everything that they say, but they certainly do ask questions. I’m pretty sure I’ve been asked where I’m going, and if I have plans. These are things that I just walk on past and pretend that I think they’re talking to other people. I know I’d get sucked into a conversation if I even looked over at them. Spanish men are just that smooth. I can’t let on that I can’t understand them because that would just encourage them and their gang of friends to be even more crude, or worse, to come try to talk to me in English. That would be their in. You can’t show any weakness in this country, or you’ll end up talking to someone on the street for 15 minutes. They just don’t let you get away! I once had a guy walk all the way to the metro with me, asking for my phone number in Spanish. I don’t speak Spanish. And he didn’t speak English. How would we talk on the phone if we can’t get through something in person?!

The other thing that Spanish men do here, and I can’t say it’s the young men, because it’s mostly older men that do this, but they growl and hiss. And grunt. The grunting is the worst. You’ll just be walking along, to class or to the market, and you walk past a man and all you hear is “uuuHH”… ew. It’s just plain creepy, and someone should tell them that. It’s not just me that gets these sounds either. Every girl I know in this town has told a similar story of being on their way somewhere, by themselves or with a few friends, and they pass a man and hear “ssssssssssssssss”. Even if you’re walking with a man, or a couple of friends of both genders, “rarrrrh”. Gross!

I know I don’t only speak for myself when I say that hearing someone growl at me is not going to make me want to turn and strike up a conversation. I know that’s not generally the purpose of the grunt or growl, but it’s the most bizarre way to compliment someone. Half the time I don’t even look all that great either. A t-shirt and jeans isn’t dressed up for me (I know it is for some people, but track pants aren’t my everyday wear anymore, and I’ve worked in an office; jeans are casual) So when I am going to meet a friend for coffee or to pick up some fruit at the market, and I hear a hiss coming from the man I just passed, I just feel even more self-conscious about the way I look and actually feel less attractive when they’ve done it, or like I want to ugly it up even more just so the next man doesn’t do the same thing!

Don’t get me wrong, if I’m looking good and feeling good, I definitely eat up the compliment like bravas in a tapas bar. I am still a woman who likes to know my effect on men.

My suspicion is that it’s not just men here in Barca that behave this way, and that many of the men in romance language countries do this (besides possibly France, they’re pretty posh up there). My warning for any woman travelling to a country where sexuality is not taboo: be careful, and be fair-warned that you will have a sound track that isn’t on your iPod no matter where you go. Enjoy!

Roger That

This may make me sound like I’ve started to hunt down a certain type of man in my hometown of Toronto, but it’s really not true.

I met a Brit. He’s a pilot. I met him while travelling and we ended up hanging out a couple of times.

What he taught me is something I already knew, and something people need to learn about themselves. I learned that I like attention, and I like to be around the person I’m seeing. I want to accidently find myself in a relationship, because I just can’t stop wanting to call and talk to this person, or see them. This knowledge of me was first introduced to me a few years ago when I refused to admit that I was in a relationship with someone until my best friend told me I was in fact dating him. I finally admitted to myself that I was dating him. I couldn’t stop calling him, seeing him, having dinners, picking him up from work… kissing him. I fell into that relationship. But the best part was, he was my best friend at that time. I could tell him anything and I could be myself around him all the time.

Needless to say, things didn’t work out with him. It was a question of our lives going in different directions, and he’s still one of my very good friends, but being together just wasn’t going to work out.

So this little tidbit about me has come to light once again. This pilot is great, and we have a great time together. We make fun of each other’s accents and phrases. We laugh a lot together and he makes me tea. But he’s always leaving. He leaves five times a week. And when he’s not leaving, he is usually at home, visiting his family. (Oh yes, let me explain, I’m not in Canada right now. I’m in Spain). He pretty well hates Spain, and anywhere that isn’t England, so he’s always trying to get out.

I have a feeling that there’s more to it than just that he hates Spain, but that’s the other thing: I can’t ask him why he really leaves. We aren’t at a place yet that I could actually ask him why he leaves, and not sound like a crazy, possessive woman. I’m not that person, believe me, but I do think that when two people are spending time together, and one of them suddenly has to leave, that they should give a little more of an explanation than “something happened, I have to go”, before they jump on a plane.

I think it’s important not to ask too much from the person you’ve just started seeing. You don’t want to seem clingy or needy or desperate. It becomes tricky though when you actually DO care what’s happening in someone else’s life, especially when you know its something that is taking them away from you. You kind of start to wonder what it is. Is it a sick family member, or is he just a mamma’s boy? Did his ex-girlfriend just have his baby, or does he just want a drinking night with his brother? Depending on the circumstances, it could be very understandable why he’s leaving so often, and going off to take care of his bits and bobs, but that circumstance could also be a big warning sign to you. It could be why he’s being so secretive.

So here is my advice to men and women alike who are in the beginning phases of a relationship: don’t hold back the things that you might think are a big deal, or things that you think give too much away. If you want to hang on to the person you’re with, be honest with them and don’t keep them in the dark.

From the other perspective, be patient. The other person will open up to you when the time is right. Don’t force them to tell you anything before they are ready or they will feel smothered and exposed. It’s tough to be patient sometimes, but it’s usually worth it. It’s like cooking a good meal: “5 minutes could be the difference between a good meal and a gourmet meal.”

Last Chance

I've lived in my building for 3 years now, and this little tale spans that entire time. This tale is about the man who cleans my building. We'll call him Mexico.

About six months after I moved in, and six months of saying good morning to this man (and any other of the maintenance staff in my building when I saw them), Mexico pulls me aside and tells me that he really likes me. Please understand that I have never talked with this person for longer than 30 seconds. He gave me a CD. A mix CD. Of love songs. (So cute!) I told him that I had a boyfriend, which was true at the time, even though we actually broke up about 3 days later.

I've continued to smile politely at him and say hi on my way to work every morning. Me, being apparently naive, thought he would get over it and move on.

Last summer I was moving (within the building) and he saw me hauling boxes. He stopped me and asked me if I was moving:

"Are you moving?!"
"Yeah"
"No, you can't move!"
"... I'm moving upstairs."
"Oh! You can't ever move. I like you so much. You're my light. You're my light!" (gesturing at the light in the hallway)

I reassured him that I'm not leaving the building and went on to my new apartment. I still see him every day, though now I wonder what stories he's made up in his mind about me. I don't think it's arogant of me to think that he's dreampt up something in his mind about me, I think it must be true.

The other day, I was again carrying boxes and he came running down the hall to towards me, yelling my name.

"Hi"
"Are you moving?!"
"Yeah.. I am."
"Oh no, I'm never going to see you again!"
"Ummm..."
"Where are you moving to?"
"I'm actually moving out of Canada for a while"
"What? No! I'm never going to see you again!"
"I'm not moving until the end of August"
"I'm going back to Mexico for 3 months to get another visa. I'm never going to see you again."

He must have said "I'm never going to see you again" 5 times in our short conversation.

He kept inching closer to me. I could tell he wasn't going to leave unless I a) gave him a hug or b) told him to leave me the f*ck alone. I'm too nice. WAY too nice. I gave him a hug and he squeezed me until I really thought he'd never let me go, and then when he did release his grip on me, he grabbed my face and kissed me squarely on the mouth. WOAH! It was quick, so quick I didn't have time to react, and then it was over and he said goodbye and walked away. I ran into my apartment to re-evaluate what just happened. He just kissed me! Not okay!!

Later, when talking to my roommate about it, she cleverly pointed out that he's probably been thinking about doing that for 3 years. He finally got up the courage, and just did it! I'm really sort of proud of him. Don't get me wrong, I am not okay with people just walking up and kissing other people. For all he knows, I'm taken. But I am proud that he seized his moment, took a chance and went for it with everything he could!

I think courage is a very important part of relationships. It's important to take a chance and talk to the person you like, or ask them out or declare feelings. It's important to stand up for your relationships, to your family and friends or whoever else might think they should have an opinion. It's important to have the courge to talk openly with your partner. Thank you Mexico for reminding me to seize the day! (But don't ever do that again).

This Is What It Should Look Like After 38 Years...

This isn’t really a story about a date I was on, but I’m going to tell you this anyway, just because I think it’s important and probably the most adorable conversation I’ve ever accidentally eavesdropped on.

I was camping. (That’s not the story, it’s just context) On the first night I was camping with my parents and my niece, my aunt and uncle were also there. In the morning, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when I tell you what I heard, you’ll understand why I just couldn’t help but listen and smile. It was first thing in the morning and everyone was still in bed (except my mother, she gets up at the crack of dawn) and what I heard from the next bed over was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. My uncle whispered to his wife of 38 years the following:

“I am so lucky” *kiss* “I don’t deserve you.” *kiss* “I’d do anything to keep you.” *kiss* “I’ll buy you ice cream.”

This was, I think, the most amazing statement I’ve ever heard a man say to a woman. I think it should be in a movie, except that that might cheapen it, because it wouldn’t be real or sincere anymore.

I think that people rush into marriage too much. I think there isn’t enough of this genuine, true, deep love anymore. I want to remind my readers that no matter how old you are (or think you are) you should never be desperate enough to marry someone that you don’t feel this way for. Believe me, I’m 27 and not married (when I thought I’d be married at 26 and was far from that, turning 27 as a single woman was like a kick in the vagina) and even though I’m not married, I’m not settling. I have a friend who is in her early 30’s and though I know she sometimes wishes she was married, she’ll never settle either. The good ones are out there, both men and women, and we just have to be patient.

France Could Teach You a Thing or Two

Just as all of my other stories, I’m giving this one a nickname: France. He came here as an airline attendant. Why airline attendants and pilots stay in the heart of downtown when there are hotels close to the airport, I’m not sure, but I am glad. My friends and I have met other airline staff from different countries there before; “there” is a bar in my neighbourhood in the heart of downtown.

The evening started off as many evenings do when the girls decide to go out to this place. We knew we’d want to go early because they get busy, so we planned to meet early and eat there. We don’t dress up for this place, per say, as it is by no means meant to be a fancy bar, just a bar to go and eat and drink and dance to live music. If anyone living in Toronto is reading this, I’m giving away a lot I suppose about where “there” is, but it’s a great spot, so endorsing it wouldn’t be a bad thing.

Anyway, we got there, got prime seating, right near the dance floor; drinks and food, as I mentioned. For whatever reason, no matter where my friends and I go, we attract the weirdos. Strange men leer at our table, and guys who are just awkward tend to spot us and hang around, hoping for an in. So when four guys moved close to our table, put a drink on our table and a coat on the fourth chair, we immediately got our backs up. We didn’t say anything to the first or the second guy who put their things in our space, they didn’t leave opportunity. Apparently it was the third guy who was elected to break the silence between our intimate group and theirs. He spun around to place his drink on our table following the pattern his friends had set up and looked up, brightly flashed a smile and burst into our conversation like we had been expecting him all evening. They did eventually ask if they could leave their coats on the chair, and introduced themselves. We introduced ourselves as Mia, Caroline and Julie. We rarely give our real names out at bars. Eventually I ended up telling one of the guys my real name: go figure. Mia told them that the service charge for setting their coats on our chair was to buy us a round of drinks. They agreed, knowing this was their chance to chat us up, and bought us a round of drinks from our server. They advertised that they work for Air France, and used their charms to divide and plunder. Divide and plunder is a little more literal in this case than that phrase would normally be in my life, but I like the phrase, so I’ll use it. The man, France, who ended up charming me for the majority of the night and dancing with me and buying me another drink or two, was tall, dark and obviously French. The somewhat broken English and the fact that this was his first time in Toronto made him somewhat more attractive, plus the fact that he would be leaving the next day, to return when?- Who knows. I talked to his friends a bit, who did tell me he is single (which is something I can’t be sure of at all because none of the three girls speak French and the guys often turned to each other and spoke in quick, whispered French which made them unintelligible to us in the noisy bar).

His very married pilot friend was being a bit of a loner, all until after my friends had left. Yes, Caroline has been telling me for years now to loosen up, take chances and get to know people. Caroline took my keys and I promised to be safe. She would leave the door unlocked and I would tell her where I was at all times. I had my deal-breakers, firmly in mind, and I was watching for any warning signs telling me this was not a good idea.

As a side story, the pilot was an ass and tried to hit on me while France was in the washroom, and when he got back, the pilot tried to tell him all about it. I was mortified, so when I got back from my escape trip to the washroom, France and I left the bar, quickly. We didn’t talk about it, but I’m sure if we do strike up a friendship, we’d talk about that incident some day.

We walked to the grocery store and got some juice and then went back to his hotel. We turned the T.V. to a music channel. I won’t share all of the nitty gritty details or divulge how far we did or did not go, even though I’ve sworn to kiss and tell for this blog, I don’t feel it’s necessary. I can say that, though my sexual experiences are somewhat limited compared to others my age, of all the men I have kissed, made out with, fore-played with and beyond, France is the only one who caressed my skin; who touched my body in a way that made me feel beautiful and sexy and desirable without being a piece of meat, and didn’t bullshit any part of what the night was. He called me by my full name. He whispered to me. This man, who met me four hours prior, was showing me that he was genuinely glad to be in my presence and have the privilege of touching my body. He treated me like a lady from the moment he met me, and I know what this sounds like, like I’m taking it as more than it was, like I think he cares about me more than anyone could from a one night encounter. I’m really not. That’s the thing. And it’s not that I don’t care about him; it’s that he was only a part of my life for a few hours- I can’t really care about him yet. He held me all night and it really felt good, to just be held. I feel like I’ve been missing testosterone; the male touch.

I used to tell myself “I’m not that kind of girl” and you’ll probably think it’s this event that changed that. Truthfully, I’ve been making out with random guys, friends, and acquaintances for years now, in bars, in cars and in my house or theirs. I told myself I’m not “that kind of girl” because to me, “those girls” are slutty and loose. It wasn’t until recently that exploring my sexuality (in that I am a sexual being) became something that wasn’t taboo or wrong. By the encouragement of my friends and through my involvement in a progressive women’s movement, I’ve started to not be ashamed of sex and sexuality, and undo the mentality that my mother instilled in me at the tender age of 15. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to start sleeping with every Joe, John and Larry that I meet, I still see some sanctity in sex.

Anyway, in the morning, I expected to wake up with an overwhelming feeling of guilt, but just as the night before held no guilt in my decision from the bar to the bed, I didn’t have a shred of guilt that morning. I got up, much earlier than I had to, but wrapped in his arms under three sheets and a duvet I was just about dying of heat anyway, so I got up and left his hotel. Before I left, he asked me for my phone number and my email address. He then wrote down his number and email for me. He seems to genuinely want to keep in touch, so maybe this singular event won’t end up being just that, but even if I never spoke to him again, I’d be okay with that. The less than 12 hour affair was somewhat unimaginable, impossible, improbable and untouchable.

He called me later in the day to say he was leaving and that he’ll email me when he’s back in France. We’ll see. For now, I’m just thinking that night as serendipitous, lovely and satisfying.

So for the men in who are wondering what is to be learned from the French: treat the ladies you meet with respect, kindness and sincerity. Show them that you’re glad for the chance to take them out, to buy them a drink, to get to know them, and know that anything past that is a privilege that you should appreciate as a gift from that special woman. The women you date, sleep with, move in with, marry and have children with (no matter the order), are extraordinary and exquisite.

Ladies, the lesson to be learned for you, is that you should never, NEVER settle for less than feeling like you are the best thing that has happened in your man’s life. I am by no means saying that just because he goes to the effort to make you feel that way, that you should be with him. Your man has to be upstanding and worthy of comparable praise I have given to France, but if he makes you feel the way France made me feel, I hope you will be with happy being with him.

And So We Sparred, and I Won.

So I went out dancing with my girls Caroline and Rachel a few weeks back in my hometown, and the club we went to was probably one of the only bars in that city that respectable adults over the age of 21 can go. So we're dancing the night away and laughing with each other about all of the ridiculous dancing going on (there was a man who was shaking his hips more that I was!).

The end of the night was nearing and we had just finished paying our tab (and were drinking water) when a man we had been checking out all night walked up to us. He was tall, dark, seemed to have confidence, and seeing as how he had caught our attention much earlier in the night, none of us were going to say no to conversation with him. I must pause in my story to specify that he checked each of us out, fully up-and-downed looked us over, and then came and stood next to me (did I say "confidence" earlier, I'm sure I must have meant "arrogance"). I had to laugh a little on the inside becuase it was last call at the bar, how far did he think he was really going to get with me?

Anyway, so he asks me my name, to which I replied "Julie" because I rarely give my real name out in bars, and I asked his. He proceeded to ask me what I do, and when I told him, he got a freaked out look on his face. Without giving away too much, I work for a type of company that only people who do bad things would be scared of (and not even, because my company doesn't even deal with bad people... well... mostly).

I then asked what he does. I'm going to write parts of our conversation out, and the parts that are in brackets are my thoughts. The *inserts* are meant to be my descriptions in boxing terms.. you'll see why momentarily. He told me:
"I used to be a Boxer, but now I move furniture for the Brick". *spar*
"Good for you (liar)." *spar*
"Ya, I mean it's not like what you do..."
"No, but it's a good job (even though you were never a Boxer because you have pefect ears like you've never been hit and if you were a good enough boxer to not be hit you wouldn't be moving furniture for a living, so if you're going to lie to me in the first five minutes of meeting me, you should make it something that's halfway believable)". *defend*
"Are you seeing anyone?" *swing*
"Ya, sort of." It's not a total lie. Just because the guy I want to be seeing lives hours of travel away, doesn't mean I'm available. *duck-and-weave*
"Oh." He didn't say anything for a minute. "So are you from around here?" *spar*
"Originally, yes, but I live in Toronto now."
"Oh. Really?"
"Yeah!"
"Long distance is hard." *left hook*
(pause) "I'm sorry, what?" I had to make sure I heard him right- the club was loud and I wasn't sure I heard what I thought I did. *duck*
"Long distance relationships, they're hard." *right hook*
"... yeah...?" *duck*
"You know.. " Iit was at this point that Caroline and Rachel decided we should dance for one more song before we would leave (to go swimming at my parent's house!) and I was glad for the excuse to walk away from this guy, so I let them drag me on the dancefloor. *weave*

We get out on the dance floor and the Boxer follows us. Side story: Some other guy who had been trying to dance with, well,  any of us earlier ended up beside me and I had to physically take his hands off of me and tell him "No". Note to men: read the signals. If she doesn't look like she's interested in dancing with you, back off before she has to push you away. It will ruin her night if she's not me. I brush those things off pretty easily but some girls don't.

Anyway, so I end up back beside the Boxer and he asks:
"Would you move back here?" *jab*
"Pardon me?" *duck*
"Would you move back?" *jab*
"To here? No, I don't think so. I like Toronto." *hook*
"Maybe I could move to Toronto." *straigh-shot punch*
"What?" Again, it was loud in the club. *duck*
"Maybe I'll move to Toronto." *straight-shot punch*
"Oh, um, no. You shouldn't move to Toronto unless you want to move. It's not a city everyone can live in. Not everyone likes it." *fancy footwork*
"So, can I take you for dinner sometime? I could come to Toronto." *jab*
"Um, you know, I don't think the guy I'm seeing would like that very much." *block and half-uppercut*
"He doesn't have to know. It's just dinner." *defend and cross*
(WOW!) "Ya, still, I don't think so..." *block*
"Or you could come back here and I'll take you to dinner here." *jab*
"I don't really come back here all that often." *block*
"Oh." He didn't say anything for a few seconds and then he looked at me and said: "So it's really not going to happen then?" *guard goes down*
"No, I don't think so, sorry." *upper cut to the jaw, and ding, ding, ding! the Boxer is too injured to  continue!*
And with a curt nod of his head he said "Have a good night!" and walked away. *shakes his head, shakes hands with the winner, and walks away*

I'm pretty good at hiding my true feelings, and sometimes I'm even good at hiding the looks I would have on my face if my true feelings were showing. It was really hard hiding the question mark on my face for the duration of my conversation with the Boxer, so when he left, I litereally yelled "WHAT?! ... did that just happen?!" I wasn't referring to the fact that he asked if it was going to happen and then walked away when I said it wouldn't. I was referring to the weirdness of him saying that long distance is hard and wanting to move to Toronto 45 seconds after he met me!

How is it possible that women get labelled as needy and clingy and desperate when there are men like I that  in the world! First of all buddy, as I stated earlier, don't lie. And if you're going to, make sure it's believable. "Julie" is a lie, but that's at least believable, and I never lie about anything else about myself. Fake names are for protection. You move furniture. You don't need to lie to me. You don't need to protect yourself from little sweet me, especially if you want me to move home for you!!

Second, slow it down a little. You don't need to interview me and then ask me on a date three minutes later. Well, I guess you do at quarter after two in the morning, but that is why you need to approach girls much earlier in the evening. Put in your time. What kind of girl would I have to be if I said "yes" to a date with a guy I met at two a.m. in a town I'm never in because he "used to be a boxer"?! I hope that's not the kind of girl that is actually desirable to men these days (hey, maybe desperate and easy is desirable for a while, but I'm kindof past the age where I'd be dating guys looking for that in the women they're dating.. I hope).

Third, I'm actually impressed that (after a little convincing) you got the hint, asked me straight up what you were thinking, and walked away without looking back. That takes a confident man. You took a chance, took the hit and lost out to one girl, and I have no doubt that you'll be back out in that club next week looking for another sparing partner to throw questions at, duck-and-weave, and fake her out until you can go in for the kill and pound her into a relationship with you. Good luck my boxing friend. I'm sure some girl will spar with you, lose her focus and you'll land a solid punch and knock her out, right into your waiting arms.

Just Friends

For years the question had been asked: Can men and women be just friends? Well, I'm not going to try to answer it for everyone, but I will share my opinion.

The question has been posed to me many times, as I tell people I have a few really good male friends, and people always want to know if we really are "just" friends. I've posed the question myself many times to different people, wondering what they think of the whole situation. Here is what I think:

For a man and a woman to be just friends, they have to both only want to be friends. There are no two ways about it. If only one wants to be just friends, then the other person will contantly be looking for something that isn't there, and suffer constant disappointment, though they may be convincing themselves that patience will have its payoffs. I'm not saying that it never works out for two friends. Often enough you hear about two people who were friends forever, getting married and living happily ever after (well, maybe not happily ever after, this is the 21st century). But I think when that happens, it was never completely off the table for either of those two friends.

I was recently asked out for dinner by someone who claims that they just want to be friends. This person is a conflict in more ways than one. Rejecting him may mean jeprodizing my career because it is a delicate situation, but accepting dinner is not an option because though he says "just friends" I don't believe him. If there is any doubt in my mind, I have to say no. Besides the fact that I could be fired if I dated him (especially when it didn't work out), I'm not attracted to him. I think attraction is very important to any romantic relationship and therefore necessary for any dinner I may be risking my job over. (Now all I have to do is figure out how I can say "no thank you" and have him accept that. I don't see him as a person who hears "No" very often).

Now I bet you're wondering if its off the table for any of my close guy friends. previously mentioned. I'm going to have to say: it is. A man will know when I am attracted to him; I've lost my shyness in telling a man that I want more than friendship. I can honestly say that of all of my guy friends, there is not one that I would want to date. I'm not saying they're not great guys, the are some of the best people I know. They're just not for me. Acquintences are a different story. I have many male acquaintences that I would consider crossing lines with, but there is much less to lose in dating a person who isn't in your close circle of trust. 

That is one thing that absolutely must be considered when thinking about making a move on a good friend: could you stand to lose the friendship? In some cases, it's go big, or go home; you can no longer stand to sit and watch them date other people and not make a move yourself because of your feelings. And in others, it's just not worth the risk to date a friend you can't absolutely see yourself falling in love with.

So now I pose the question to you: Can men and women be "just friends"?

Impressed By The Date That Never Happened

For a while now I've wanted to "stir the pot", as I say. By this, I mean that I ask random strangers questions, just to see what the response is. I asked a guy who works in the grocery store down the street if he likes his job and ended up finding out that he's into technical theatre, hates his job and isn't happy about the results of the last election. So when two guys walked into the bar that my friends were in a few weeks ago, dressed the exact same and wearing white collared shirts and ties, I needed to find out what the deal was with that.

They had walked in looking somewhat uncomfortable, got some beers and stood in a corner away from everyone else. I found this even stranger, so I went over to talk to them. It turned out that they were just off work (as valets) and just wanted to stop by for a drink before meeting some other friends. I told them how bizarre I thought it was that both of them were still wearing their ties, standing in a corner being completely anti-social. The one guy who was talking more, we'll call him Confident, told me they wanted to meet some girls (which is even more funny because the other guy turned his back on us at that point and started texting on his phone). I asked how they thought that would happen if they stand in the corner being anti-social. "It worked on you, didn't it?"

We got chatting about what else they do, besides being valets, and Confident told me that he's looking into starting his own business.
"That's great. I'm hoping to start a business too."
"Really? Doing what?"
"Dating tutor."
"A what?"

I told him that I've been thinking of starting a business where men pay to take me on a date (with restrictions) and then I will review them after and let them know what they're doing wrong. He thought this was interesting, so I told him about this blog. We chatted a few more minutes, and then he asked for my phone number. I said okay and gave it to him. Confident was interesting.

A week later, I got a text saying that he was sorry that he didn't connect earlier; he knows it's bad form. He was going to be leaving the country for a week, but he'd like to see me when he's back. I told him I'd like to see him because a man who is that confident in himself that he can text me a week later, own up to not calling, and still expect a "yes" is a rare breed. I asked him if he was sure, considering my blog and the fact that he could end up on it. He said "Any press is good press, right?"

He never called. To be fair, I had put thoughts of him aside, as I never wait for a man, and knowing he was gone for a week I just lost track. He finally text me two weeks later and said he was sorry he didn't text me. He's been going through some things and hadn't gotten a chance. "No need to respond, just thought it was courteous to let you know."

I didn't respond. There's no need. We likely would have only gone on the date to prove something: him to prove that he's great on a date, and me to prove I'm open to all possibilities.

I am however very impressed at how he handled it all. He was suave and confident in himself, and polite and thoughtful when it came down to "letting me down easy". I'm not heartbroken. If anything, I'm even more impressed. I haven't heard from him again, but if he remembered the name of my blog and reads this, I hope whatever was going on has ended well. And if you're still available, feel free to call me. I'd like to know why you're so confident.

The Bachelor and The Bachelorette

One thing that I've been thinking of a lot during my time of being single is how the dating game is different for men than it is for women (or, it is expected to be anyway). What I mean is this: men are somehow expected to date around and go from woman to woman and then suddenly settle down with someone, while women are expected to be more relationship focused from the start. I think that is a double standard.

Firstly, if women are supposed to settle into relationships, there need to be men available for that. Now, maybe it’s just me, but it feels like I've somehow been marked as a "just one date" girl, or even a "just a couple of dates" girl. I don't know if it's that men need to fill a quota of taking a (x) number of girls on (y) number of dates in a month or year for (z) number of years before they can settle down, and that somehow when I walk into their lives, they're just adding up the tally, or if the issue lies with me, but it seems that there are not enough men out there who are at that point of settling down. And it's not just "my age" that I'm talking about. I've dated men within a 10 year range over the past two years and not one of them seemed like the type to settle down. Not with me anyway. (Okay, maybe one or two, but please, I am not your maid or your mother, my roommates will not find your prank idea funny and I don't want to have to tell you stop throwing food around the kitchen). If all these men are dating around, where are the ones who want to settle down?

Second, I think it’s important for men and women to date around. Let me emphasize the word date in that sentence (not sleep- I am not implying anyone should sleep around). I don't think a person can truly know who they are and what they truly want and need from a relationship if they haven't dated at least a few people. I mean, far-be-it for me to say that high school love can't work, it has for some people. But for the majority of the people in our society today, I think it is really important to learn who you are before you go for the committed "forever" relationship. 65 years is a long time to be married to someone and if you have any hope of making it that far in your marriage, you need to know who you are, what you want, and what you can't compromise on before you walk down the aisle. I can honestly say that after the dating experiences I've had, I have a really good idea of what I want, and what I don't want; what I need and what I can survive with and without. I know that I need to be with someone who isn't a jealous person (even if I am), and that though I want to be a shining light in his eyes, I do not want to be on a pedestal. There are of course, many other things I've learned, some of which I will share and some of which I won't, but I'm not sure I would not have known any of it if I hadn't gone on dates with all sorts of different men.

I also think it is important to understand that there is nothing wrong with you (male or female) if someone stops calling/texing/tweeting/messaging/facebooking/BBMing or the like. Maybe it is them. Maybe it’s the combination of you and them that just isn't right. I've had a few men tell me that my choice of career scares them- they are afraid of having to support me someday, and though I tell them I wouldn't let that happen, they leave me anyway. I've had men tell me that they think I'm great, they just don't think there is the right chemistry. I would rather they be honest and tell me they don't want to be with me than to leave me hanging, but either way, I know it's not really me they're rejecting. It could even be that they've got baggage with someone else, it's complicated, or his/her ex is back in the picture (if that's the case, you should run for your life anyway- the last thing you want is half of the person s/he should be!)

This is why, though I think TV series The Bachelor and The Bachelorette is a little extreme (in that they literally pit people against each other in the hopes of sultry television with a dramatic ending), I think the concept of dating many people and narrowing it down is a good one. Not that anyone has 25 people lined up in front of them at any given point in their life (unless you're Jennifer Lopez or Ryan Reynolds), but now that it is acceptable to be 30 and unmarried, people should take their time and really think about "is this the person I want to be with for the rest of my life?" or can I live as a bachelor(ette) a little longer?

Dating Tip #1

Remember, the first date is not all about you. It’s not all about the other person either. Recently I’ve been helping out a friend in his dating life. I’ve answered questions for him, I’ve helped him decide where to go, what to do, what to wear and even asked a girl out for him! (That was a special case- we were at an event and he HAD to leave just as this woman was making eyes at him, so after he left, I went and hit on her for him. It was mildly creepy of me, but she called him and they did go on a date, and are planning another one- go me!)

The day of the first date in particular, he’d been asking me a slew of questions, for which, if I was charging by the hour, I could have made a fortune answering. I don’t mind, because he is my friend and I care very much about him getting a girlfriend that isn’t a psycho, but it has made me realize that I’m really not just talking out of my ass on this stuff, I really do know what I’m talking about when it comes to dating.

Now here's the tip: Realize that the other person is just as nervous as you are (hopefully you're both somewhat nervous anyway) and understand that this is just a day/evening/lunch/coffee date to get to know someone a little better. Relax. Just be yourself. I know, I know, that's easier said than done. But the person you're on a date with wants to get to know you, not the nervous sweaty person who keeps fidgeting and glancing about and worrying if they're having fun. If the company is good, it doesn't matter where you are!

Unforgettable Quotes on Dating...

Since starting my blog, and the very beginnings of a possible book, I have had some rather interesting conversations with people about dating. Here are some of the funny comments that have come out of these chats:

"He's a great catch: he's got a really nice car. And he can play the guitar." - my second-family little brother

"You should date him, you'll have really cute babies." - best friend/ second-family sister

"You should date him, he has a job." - my second-family dad

"Marry for money, not for love" - mom (she was only partly kidding)

"I'm just kidding. I'm the best person to sleep with. Ever." - my second-family little brother

"I liked it. I know you didn't, but I liked it." - me

"There is a serious problem with your relationship." - best friend and I have been saying this to each other for three years.

"People don't have to come to me, I'm already there" - second-family little brother (he's quite the character!)

"So you could say your second date was really crumby?" - second-family dad (that story is still to come...)

Thats all for now, but I'm sure there will be more!

Yes, That Would Happen to ME at a Singing Lesson...

Well, I didn't really DATE a singing teacher, but I did go see one once, and being that this is a blog about funny, awkward dates and encounters, I feel the need to share this story.

My best friend from University, we'll call her Miss Martini,  and I were living together when she started singing lessons. She and I both have a terrible fear of singing solo in public, and though our reasons are different, the result is the same: neither of us will do it. Being that we were striving actresses, we both felt we should put our fears aside and at least try singing lessons.

Miss Martini found a singing teacher with whom she felt very comfortable. We had both had voice lessons in University for speech and breathing techniques and this new singing teacher's style of instruction was much the same as our previous voice instructors. After a few weeks of her coming home to rave about how great these lessons were going, I decided to see if he would take me on as a student as well.

On the night of my first lesson, I was very nervous. When I got there, I was a little early, so I waited outside. When the instructor came to get me, he introduced himself and took me down to his studio. I use "studio" loosely here because it was a tiny room in a basement with a keyboard and more musical "stuff" than you could ever imagine would fit into that space. I was a little sketched out, but being that Miss Martini had come here for her lessons, I decided to put any thoughts of dirt, dampness and mildew out of my mind.

The lesson began as expected: he verbalized his resume in order to prove that he has some semblance of credibility and asked a few short questions about my singing history. Somehow in the conversation it came up that he is divorced (hence the basement) and 40 (he essentially made me guess his age- I guessed MUCH younger when he said he looks young for his age). When it was time to stand up and start the actual lesson, it again, went much as expected. I was still nervous and felt like I wanted to melt away into the 30-year-old rug beneath my feet, but I stood my ground, determined to make it through the lesson.

We started with breathing exercises; how to stand, where the breath should be in the body, how to exhale properly in singing- the basics really. It was somewhat hands-on, as he had me put my hands on his ribs to feel the breath and then did the same to check my breathing. Because of University, I was comfortable as often our instructors at school would come and fix your posture, or use students to demonstrate different things, so when this turned out to be his way of instruction, I accepted it. Being that I was so nervous and distracted, I didn't notice something that I usually pick up on right away. And then I saw it: a look. He looked away quickly and kept on going with the lesson, and for a split second I second-guessed if I saw what I thought I saw. No, I couldn't have, focus on your breath and stop being crazy. And then he kissed me. Out of nowhere, he pulled me in and kissed me. I was so in shock that I didn't stop it, I don't even think my brain registered what was actually happening for about 3 seconds and by that time, his hands were up and down my back and going into my hair. WHAT?! I pushed him away (which was somewhat difficult given how tightly he was squeezing me into him and when he saw the look on my face he was horrified. Clearly whatever he was feeling that gave him the urge to kiss me was NOT what I was feeling.

He began apologizing profusely and begged me not to leave. He promised he would behave and told me that "If I saw you in a coffee shop, I would definitely come and talk to you" and I'm thinking "Yes, but if you met me in a coffee shop, your tongue wouldn't be down my throat less then half an hour after meeting me!"

It was probably the most horrifyingly awkward kiss I've ever had in my life and the half hour after it was probably worse. At first he couldn't take his eyes off me, and now he couldn't even look at me. His promises to behave and his apology made me stay, and because I had never had the displeasure of having a encounter like this before, I wasn't really sure what the protocol was for this type of situation. Needless to say, I went from nervous and uncomfortable downright confused and nauseous. We finished the lesson, skipping the rest of the breathing stuff and going straight to the keyboard, but even then, it was agonizingly difficult to relax into singing knowing he's sitting beside me wanting to do that again, and feeling embarrassment radiate from him. 

The end of the lesson came and I couldn't have been happier. He asked if I would come back and I really wasn't sure. Everything had been fine up until he kissed me, but I can't ignore how extremely inappropriate it was of him to do that. I gave him money, and felt a little like I was paying for services I hadn't asked for. I call it my "Pretty Woman" moment, but I was Richard Gere and he was the prostitute who went "above and beyond" the call of duty.

Outside, I ran into Miss Martini. When she saw the look on my face she asked if everything was okay...

"I don't know."
"Well, how did it go?"
"I don't know."
"What.. what happened?"
"I don't know, he kissed me. I don't know."
"HE DID WHAT?"
"Ya, I don't know. You may need to give him a minute. K, I'll see you at home. Byyyye."

I took off out of there like a bat out of hell and practically ran home.

Back at home, she told me that he did indeed "need a minute" and then, after telling her the full story of what happened, she said to me:

"That's interesting. Really. Really interesting. You know who else would probably want to hear that story?"
"Who?"
"His girlfriend. And his two children."

I May Be Extraodinary, But My Dates Certainly Aren't

I went on a date once with a man that was so ordinary, mild-mannered and simple that I actually felt sorry for him. I had agreed to go on the date with him when a friend of mine encouraged me saying: "He's a nice guy. You need to date a nice guy."

It turns out, I don't think I need to date a "nice" guy. I need to date a man who doesn't need to "strap on a pair" because they're already firmly in place!

The date itself was okay. Dinner at an italian restaurant and then he walked me home. He had planned it too- he had come downtown and looked around for places he'd like to take me, and then chose a few and let me pick from them. He was nervous and shy, but the conversation was light and flowed nicely.

The only problem was: he didn't do it for me. I didn't get any hopeful feelings that he'd kiss me at the end of the night, or that he'd hold my hand. I wasn't feeling light-hearted, and like I wanted him to call again. I felt the same as if I had gone out with my brother or one-of-the-guys. I think I intimidated him too...

Harsh as this may sound: Guys, you need to be phenomenal. As superficial as it may be, women are seriously attracted to things that sparkle and shine. BE THAT SPARKLY, SHINEY thing! I don't mean that in the way that you should dress up and physically have sparkles on you (we don't want someone shinier than we are) but you need to draw our attention. You need to stand out from the crowd, and when you're with a woman in a crowd, you need to show that you're PROUD TO BE WITH HER in that crowd  (but never ever act like she's your property.. I know, it's hard to find the balance, but please, please, for the love of dating, find it.)

Needless to say, this man called me again, but I just couldn't bring myself to give him a second date. Good luck Ordinary! You'll find someone who doesn't far out-shine you someday!

NOTA BENE: I'd like to add a disclaimer on my statement that men should be the sparkly thing we're looking at: Not all women want the same kind of sparkle in their man, and men need to know what their date wants them to be. If you're not that thing, maybe you're just not meant to be anyway. Just because Tiffany's if full of diamonds, doesn't mean you need to wear all your Tiffany at once- find the pieces that compliment each other.

True Story:

I dated a snob.

The Cookie Monster (TCM)

I met a man a few months back who seemed... just right. I don't mean to sound like Goldilocks here, but when you've gone from bad, to okay, to what-was-I-thinking, to this-guy-might-be-fun-to-date-for-a-while; when you finally come across a man who is just right, you notice it.

He was smart and funny, had a decent job, ambition, dreams, hopes, and a good balance of family, fun and work. He liked to get outdoors and have adventures, as well as spend time just hanging out. Not too hot, not too arrogant. I wouldn't say he was perfect, and you'll soon see why, but he sure was close! 

We met a few months back while I was going through a 'Non-Practicing' phase in life, meaning that I decided to just not date, at all. We met through work and chatted a few times over the phone about work needs, and the conversation always strayed to personal things. We're very close in age, and so we have quite a few things in common and I have no doubt that he was buttering me up to make a sale. He finally asked me out on a date (I say finally, but really, it wasn't that long that we knew each other, and there is always the challenge of crossing the line between "professional" and "personal" and still being able to hang onto the professional, even if it doesn't work out.) He took a chance. He emailed me one day after chatting on the phone and really put himself out there. I had told myself, in this Non-Practicing phase, that I would only break my fast of men for someone who really grabbed my attention. Well, this man had already grabbed my attention when he walked into my office a few months ago with his sweet-sweet goodies (cookies and cupcakes to be exact) so when he asked me out for drinks, even though it was in an email, I felt like I owed it to myself to go. For the duration of this blog, we'll call him The Cookie Monster (TCM).

The Cookie Monster took me out to a trendy little place off Yonge Street and we had a great time. He dressed appropriately for the date and was a perfect gentleman. He was there first, got us a table and politely waited for my arrival. Drinks and conversation were wonderful. We never didn't have something to say, which is something I notice on first dates (if you don't have anything to say to me after 2 hours, what are we going to talk about 2 months from now?!). We both talked about how we have no-one and nothing holding us back from adventures right now. We both like road trips. We both have sisters who are married and have kids. We talked and talked. He paid for the drinks, even though I offered to pitch in. And he drove me home.

Since this is a blog about dating, I will tell you that I will kiss-and-tell. And I have alot of good things to say about his kissing. That was just another area that we seemed to just ... fit. I ended up inviting him in to watch a movie. I can say that we didn't so much watch the movie (but we also didn't have sex- I'm really not the kind of girl to hop into bed on the first date). We made-out through the whole movie, and I would have just kept kissing him all night long if I had my choice. Unfortunately, we both had things to do the next day, so staying up past the early hours of the morning was not reasonable for either of us. When he was leaving, he asked when he could see me again. With most guys, I play it cool and tell them we'll plan something soon. With him, I actually wanted to see him again.. and soon. We planned for the next week.

Date two: only the third second-date I've had in two years because men just haven't impressed me. He again, came over to watch a movie. We watched more of this one, but not much more. We talked a bit, and made-out some more. I felt young again, in the best way possible. I actually guessed when my roommate would be home and closed my bedroom door about four minutes before she got home. I felt like a teenager hiding from my parents, but it was fun and sneaky (and not dorky and stupid). We poked fun at each other and laughed and talked about things we want to do in life. It was great.

I should mention that on our first date he talked about going back to school. He wanted to travel to another country to do it, and he wanted to go in September. (I didn't mention to him that to go to school for the particular thing he wanted to in September, you should have already applied... four months ago).

Anyway, the next weekend brought about a little trip for me to see my best friend, we'll call her Wilma. While I was on the bus, The Cookie Monster text me and told me to have a good time. Thanks! He also told me he was thinking alot about his life and where he was going. I told him to "Follow your heart" as cheesy as that sounds.

On my way back, I text him and he asked how my weekend was. Great, thanks! I asked what his week was looking like. This is where I think he flipped out. Not in a bad, freakish way, but in the way that frogs do when you drop them into boiling water. TCM called me and told me "I am just having fun" and "I don't want anyone to get hurt"... "I might be leaving in eight months"... All of these things I know. I am WELL aware that you think you're leaving in eight months. I was "just having fun", and I don't want anyone to get hurt either, but thank you for thinking highly enough of yourself that you think I'll fall head-over-heals for you and you'll break my heart when you leave in "eight months"! And by the way, since when does "What is your week looking like" mean "Hey, so where's my ring and when are we getting married?" I really don't know when or where things went so awry. He must have cooked himself up some strange ideas about what I must want from him while he was baking all those cookies for work.

I honestly don't know what I may have said or done to make him think that I'm the sort of woman to totally latch on, especially when he said on the first date that he might be leaving. I already knew there was a potential expiration date on whatever this was. I just wanted to have some fun with him too...

I suppose it's a good thing he ended it prematurely because I wasn't ready to give up being single yet!

To The Man Who Ate My Face

Have you ever wanted to tell someone the brutally honest truth, but because you've only been on one date, and you weren't really expecting it to go much farther than that, you feel like you can't? That's what I feel today.

I went on a date with a man last weekend and it was fine. I use the term "fine" loosely because it was fine if you are a lusty fifteen-year-old looking to make out in a movie theatre and then again in a restaurant booth. If you add up all the pieces, I can't complain that the date went badly: movie (my idea, his pick, he paid), drinks (he paid), walked me home like a gentleman. However, if you add in all the tiny details that make a good date a great date, or in this case, a bad date, it was not good.

This is what I wish I could say to the man who ate my face:

Hello (x), I really feel like we need to talk. I feel like you need to know some things that could have made this date better. I am not telling you this so that you can apologize to me and have a second chance. That is a lost cause for you. I'm telling you these things for the benefit of the next woman who has the pleasure of going on a date with you.

You have some interesting things to say. You're intelligent, and women appreciate that, so don't dumb yourself down on the date- we won't like you if you do that.

I don't need to make out with you in the movies and at the restaurant for people to know we're more than friends. You can spot a first date a mile away, so there is no need for extreme PDA's. And you can tell a couple just by the hand-holding. I'm not into making-out in public.

If the topic of ex's comes up, do not spend more than 5 minutes on the subject of your most recent ex. It makes us think you're not ready to let go of her, and therefore clearly not ready to take on the wonder that is the woman sitting next to you.

If other sensitive subjects come up, such as religion, politics, family, or any other controversial subject that may be cause for contention, approach with caution. Realize that while you may have your own opinions and that they may be quite passionate, unless they are a deal breaker for you, you need to let her take the lead on the topic. If she has opinions and you stomp all over them like a stampede of wild horses, in your need to express yourself, you're going to alienate her. Heated debates are for friends in a pub, not the first date. Eventually you and your potential new lady will have time for heated debates on these topics, but they can seriously harm a first date. Also, if you're going to make bold statements, be sure you can back them up. She may not have gone to school for whatever you're discussing, but if you offend her and she happens to know more about the topic than you and you are unjustified in your beliefs, you are likely to never hear from her again.

A twenty-something year old woman does not want to hear fifteen times in one date that she is "cute". Firstly, no woman wants to be "cute". Thirteen year old girls don't even want to be "cute". Twenty-somethings want to be "charming" and "witty" and "fascinating" (if we're worth our salt that's what we want anyway). We can even go for "sexy", but only if it is used sparingly (I say that because while you may mean it as a compliment, we take it as that's all you're seeing). I once went through a phase where the word "beautiful" had no meaning what-so-ever because a boyfriend called me beautiful so many times that I stopped believing it. I couldn't decipher what he meant by it, and it got rather annoying, and my brain just stopped processing anything he said after he would say "you're so beautiful". So what? What else am I? The next guy I dated didn't mention my looks or his attraction to my physical person until three months into our relationship. One day he just turned to me and said, "My God, you're beautiful". My heart stopped. I believed him. You should strive for that effect on your woman.

And lastly, I must tell you this, and it breaks my heart to do it, but I feel like you're never going to find a wife if I don't. You're a bad kisser. Terrible, in fact. Awful. Dreadful. I could go on, but berating you with words like that will not help your self-esteem. Though, in this case, that may not be a bad thing. You need to learn to hold back a bit. You're kissing like you're ready to fuck, and if you fuck like you kiss, stay out of my bed. My mouth is not a cement sidewalk and it doesn't need something hammering into it. Your tongue should not be rammed halfway down my throat - I don't have my tonsils anymore, you don't need to check for them. Kissing should be a melding of both of your styles and techniques and if you take over like you did and it's not good, she won't want to kiss you again. A friend of mine gave some good advice for men once: let her take the lead on the first kiss, that way you'll know what she likes, and you can adapt your own techniques to be the best kiss she's ever had.

One more thing about that kissing part, she doesn't want to have your saliva all over her face. She may have done her makeup, and if she didn't she's likely either blessed with clear skin, or has an aversion to anything on her face besides moisturizer. So don't open your mouth too wide, or let your tongue stray too far from her lips. If she wants sloppy kisses, she'll buy a puppy. If you're going to stray off her mouth, make sure your teeth aren't getting in the way of lips on skin. They're distracting, and they hurt.

I hope you can take this advice and apply it to your next date. Hopefully the next one will want to see you again.

Sincerely,

The Woman Who's Face You Ate.

Are you there God?

It's me Margaret.

... okay so this blog isn't about a young woman going through the turmoil's of high school, but it is about another very important part of being a woman: dating.

I plan to explore the in's and out's of dating by examining my own dating life (which has been busy) and give tips and pointers to both men and women in this phase of their life. So whether you're young and new to dating, in your twenties and trying to find "the one", in your thirties and ready to give up on finding "the one", forties, fifties, sixties and so on, come along with me on what promises to be an amusing and enlightening journey. I'll share with you all of my funny dating stories of the past and keep you updated on my recent dates.

Feel free to tell me about your dates too!