How to be single The experiential dating advice blog

The dating boomerang

I have a lot of fun writing this blog; mostly because none of the guys who I go on dates with  know of its existence. In addition, all names used are disguised, to preserve the anonymity of those poor suckers. As you know, I like to speak my mind. As the cliché goes, honesty is best policy… until Honesty creeps up behind you, and knocks the wind out of you. Hear this:

This year, I signed up to play volleyball with Ottawa Sports and Social Club (OSSC). The goals are three-fold: a) keep fit b) have fun c) meet new people (read: meet men). So, yesterday, I met my team for the first time. Unfortunately, our team majorly lacks males. Of the 8 players, only 2 are boys. So much for a new dating pool!

So,  when I arrived at the gym, where we were to play our game, I found that one of the guys on our team – Mac – looked very familiar. Then again, I often find similarities between real people and fictional characters (case in point, the Mad Hatter from “Bonus points if you can read a map.”) At first, I didn’t pay much attention to the feeling of familiarly I got from Mac. But as the game got on, the sensation that I have met Mac before, became stronger. That sensation was coupled with fearful apprehension.

My fears were confirmed when I got home and checked out our team’s mailing list. I have MORE than met Mac before:

In Winter 07, I went to a Valentine Day Singles’ Mixer organized by Meet Market Adventures. I went mostly as support for a single friend of mine, but also, out of curiosity. But, very shortly after I got there, I realized that there were no suitable candidates for me: the average age at this event was 40. So, I stayed on the sidelines, while my friend mingled. Then, Mac approached me. He was one of the younger men there. I felt a connection with him, and so we chatted, danced, kissed, and decided to go on a date. All was well, until he dropped me off, when I realized that his was a one-track mind, and the track was leading right into my pants.

So, the next day, I e-mailed him, and told him off. I don’t have the original e-mail, but it went something like: “I think the only thing you want from me, is to get into my pants, as evidenced by phrases like ‘God, your f*king sister is in town this week? I was hoping to see you.’” Of course, he retorted with: “I think you’re the one that’s really only thinking about sex.” Very mature! Whether or not I had been thinking about sex, my fantasy definitely didn’t star Mac the Eager Beaver. We never communicated after that.

Now, 2.5 years later, I find myself hoping that he won’t recognize/remember me. And if he does, I will deny, deny, and deny.