How to be single The experiential dating advice blog

Starts with “E”, and rhymes with “Direction” – Part 3 of 3

(READER’S DISCRETION IS STRONGLY ADVISED)

Clearly, with Bruce leading the way, we weren’t going anywhere, so I took charge and started heading towards where my car was parked. Perplexed by the change in our course, Bruce asked where I had parked my car. I pointed, and said: “My car is in this direction.”

I was unaware that I had said something wrong, until he asked me if I knew what I had just said. I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about; when he pointed out I had said the word “erection.” I was so confused, and flustered, and started emphatically proclaiming that I definitely said “direction”. Bruce suggested that it must’ve been a Freudian slip, but I honestly didn’t see how that could be since I had clearly said what I said, though perhaps the "d" was somewhat silenced because I looked away when I spoke. He then proceeded to ask if I knew what a Freudian slip is in a somewhat condescending tone. When I said “yes”, he wasn’t satisfied, and so he promptly provided me with the dictionary definition of the term. I realize now that he was trying to be funny, but since I was very uneasy about the situation even prior to the non-Freudian slip, I didn’t find it very funny.

I guess he didn’t realize just how uncomfortable I was feeling, so he asked me if I knew what an erection was. Trying to be funny, I said “no”… and realized that it was a big mistake, when he started to define the word. By now, I really wanted to get away from Bruce ASAP… and I was also tired and uncomfortable.

As we walked towards my car, he started to talk again… By then, my body seemed to have developed a natural response for tuning Bruce’s talking out, which was quite fine with me. I faked interest. When I finally glimpsed my car, I never felt happier…. but Bruce was not done talking. For some reason he felt the need to share (and this is where it gets even more disturbing) that every (sports) game he plays he gets hit in his privates and, as a result, needs to wear a cup. I was mildly surprised to learn this, as I thought that wearing a jockstrap was a requirement for all sports. Then, Bruce began to list all the sports he plays and all the times he had been hit in his… you know.

Wait… this gets even more bizarre. All of a sudden, Bruce did a complete 180, and started explaining to me that it was important for women to perform regular breast self-exams, to detect any lumps early. Though I strongly felt that this was an inappropriate conversation for a 1^st date, I explained to Bruce that I’ve recently had a physical, and that he shouldn’t worry. BUT, he was not appeased by this answer. He insisted that it was important for me to do exams because I know my body best. He also mentioned that if “I didn’t feel comfortable doing it I should have my boyfriend do it for me”. Pardon if I find that an odd comment, coming from a guy I am on a date with. Was he offering?...WTF!

I turned, keys in hand, oh-so-ready to leave, and was suddenly startled by what I thought was a lady walking a big black dog, which turned out to be two girls. Bruce then seriously said: “Well, we don’t know them. They well could be bitches.” I was stunned; I couldn’t believe the words that had just come out of his mouth. Bruce was quick to explain to me (oh goody!) that a bitch is a female dog. Once again in hindsight, I realize that he had tried to make a joke…

After the dog incident, Bruce flawlessly resumed the “chest conversation” as if nothing had happened. He was trying to point out that if I ever decided to go to paintball with him, that I would need to wear a chest pad, because any hits from the paintball can cause temporary lumps on my breasts that could be mistaken for something else. He then also suggested that I check out YouTube and watch an instructional video on breast self-exams, noting that those videos aren’t only for horny teenage boys; that they are quite informative.

And that’s when the night finally ended. I politely informed him that I had a good time but the date had to come to an end eventually (but was thinking I wish it had ended oh so long ago). He asked if I wanted to hang out with him the next night. As I already had plans, I didn’t have to lie right there and then. But, I was quite anxious to get away from Bruce… just as fast as my winter tires would get me out of there.

So, my dear dating folks, my advice here is:  don’t date. Just kidding…. But if you’re a guy, please don’t have any conversations I described above on a first date. Also if you’re a girl… RUN away and carry a cell phone.  I know realize why Bruce’s profile mentioned that his friends would describe him as... a great paintball target.

After the date, I spent a lot of time pondering the weirdness of it. I have yet to share with you what happened in the aftermath of the date - look for it in the next article. Needless to say, if I had any thoughts about seeing Bruce again - what happened afterwards definitely set me straight. I will share this with you in my next post. I will also share with you how to tell someone that you're not interested, in a way that is not offensive, but will definitely get the message across.

Wear running shoes on a first date: Part 2 of 3

When we left the coffee house at 9 pm, it was very dark outside. In contrast to his “unsettling” demeanor in the coffee house, Bruce seemed happy and excited again. As we set off in no particular direction, he explained that he wanted to show me the “ruins” on Parliament Hill. I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, because – as an Ottawa native – I’m pretty familiar with the few major attractions in Ottawa and have never before heard of these “ruins”. When I questioned Bruce about it, he proceeded to describe that there is a demolished a building near the Parliament Hill, whose remnants resemble a ruin. I was very skeptical, but went along with his idea. Literally.  

As we walked towards Major Hill’s Park, the idea of walking outside with someone I just met – whom I had met on an online website – started to make me feel uncertain. Furthermore, it seemed to me that we were walking around aimlessly. But, as we passed by two police cars stationed near Parliament Hill, I felt somewhat relieved.  It was then, when Bruce asked me to walk with him down a pitch black staircase, to a trail that ran along the Rideau River that I got really worried and nervous and started wishing that the date would end SOON. I wearily made up some lame excuse about not wearing proper walking shoes, to deter him from pursuing this “lackluster” suggestion of his. To make things worse, Bruce then admitted that he was lost and what he wanted to show me wasn’t there (down the path) but rather on the other side of Parliament. WTF?!

However, this new locale was actually in the direction of my car, and given we had come all this way anyways, I agreed to check out the “ruins” with Bruce. When had made our way to the other side of Parliament, he was giddy with excitement at what he wanted to show. He pointed at what was there, but I honestly could not see what he was pointing at… because it was pitch black. This is when he mentioned that what he was pointing at was behind a bush (seriously, these were his words)… and that he made this discovery when he had ‘accidentally’ climbed over the fence with his friend the previous weekend.

This is about the time when the date officially became as ruined as the supposed “ruins” he had wanted to show me. Truthfully, by this time, I would’ve preferred to walk myself back to my car. Given the late hour, I was already tired and really had had enough. I explained to my date that I wanted to call it a night and that he didn’t need to walk me to my car. But, Bruce, like a true gentleman – (I’ll give him that) – offered to walk me to my car… citing that it was a good excuse to spend more time with me (Hooray?!)

Before I wrap up this post, I’d like to state the inherent advice: wear proper footwear to your first date (read: running shoes)… just in case you need to make a run for it.

Alas, as innocent as I am, I didn’t realize that the worst and the most disturbing part of our date, was still to come. It was really after the mindless wanderings to and from the “ruins” that the date really took on a downwards direction.

Stay tuned for Part 3 of this post, and the word “direction” will take on a new meaning for you. WARNING: The reading gets a bit vulgar and profane from here on out. Reader discretion is advised.

First PoF date… too much… too soon: Part 1 of 3

My first date with someone from plenty of fish started off well. Note the past tense. I was (really) excited to meet him, as we’d exchanged a couple of positive e-mails and even MSNed a few times, and all of our exchanges were very pleasant. Of the many things we had in common, similar family values was a key one.

For location of Date 1, we’d chosen a coffee and dessert shop in the downtown Ottawa. Bruce was very gallant: he arrived on time and even bearing gifts. It was almost as if Christmas had come early this year. (Details of the gift will be divulged later.)

What I initially liked about Bruce was that he was very open. I already knew where he worked and his full name… all things he didn’t know about me… I quickly discovered the reason for that, as Bruce did most of the talking. Not only did he talk a lot, he talked mostly about himself. It’s almost as if he desperately needed to ‘one-up’ all of my stories. Whenever I would start a new topic of discussion, he would quickly interrupt me and start talking about the time he did the same thing. HE JUST TALKED TALKED AND TALKED. For example, he talked about his first experience skiing (after I started telling him about mine); about his new snowboard that he hadn’t yet used; about how he liked where he lives – especially because it was near his grandmother (weird?!), about his cooky neighbour who is on meds; and on it went. It’s great that I’m such a good listener!

When he finished talking about his personal life, he proceeded to vent about his work and the fact that he didn’t feel his input was valued by his co-workers. He talked about work for quite some time, and – to be honest – I tuned him right out… until he asked me if I knew DB2, to which I casually responded: “I am familiar with DB2” (this will only make sense to my close friends.) Talking about work on a date is my least favourite topic, but not wanting to be rude, I waited until he was done venting, before changing the subject.

From our e-mail communications, I knew that he liked cooking and that, in past years, he had made Christmas dinners for his family. So, to wean him off the work conversation, I inquired about his plans for the holidays. The topic switch ploy worked, but he ran with the new conversation: he mentioned that his relatives were planning to spend the holidays in Florida, so they were celebrating the holidays early to accommodate them so that the entire family could celebrate the holidays together. He didn’t seem interested in knowing about my holiday plans.

When he finally got tired of talking about himself, he asked me if I was curious to open my gift. I was only semi-curious about the gift, so “pretending” to be as excited as he probably wanted me to be – I opened it. It turns out that during his lunch hour (of course he told me this after) he had gone and picked me up some candy and a Wii-shaped pez dispenser because I had previously mentioned to him that was the only console I played. I thought it was really thoughtful and decided to overlook the fact that for the most part Bruce had done all the talking and every attempt I made to talk had been quickly interrupted.

At this point, we were about 1.5 hours into the date, when all of a sudden, Bruce started to get very uneasy. When we had first arrived at the coffee house, it hadn’t busy at all, but it was starting to get packed and noisy. I didn’t bother me, but Bruce immediately mentioned that he disliked noisy atmosphere, and suggested we leave and go for a stroll. I said “yes”.

In hindsight, I realize that it was a bad idea altogether. I will describe the remainder of Date 1 in two posts that follow. To foreshadow, after post 3, the word “direction” will take on a whole new meaning. But first, post 2 will examine the beginning of the “ruins” of Bruce and what could have been a “happily-ever-after.” Sigh.

SPECIAL ADDENDUM to A picture is worth < 1000 words…: the replies

This is an addendum to the 3-part series: the replies. I’ve only kept record of few of the replies I got, but they are the good ones. Here they are, alongside my (mostly snarky) replies.

(from a dude who was 54 and in a relationship)

A poem girl from Ottawa
So sexy and so fair
Would you love to be stimulated orally
By a sensuous man with no hair

Bald guys are people too
They make their skills soooo divine
Seeking a maiden for intimacy
Someone special someone fine

I love to please and kiss so soft
I love to satisfy my lover
I am attached but seeking pleasure
To give to someone other…

My snarky reply:
Though with your reply you do thoroughly impress,
Your proposition lacks in value, honestly I confess.
You seem like a nice chap,
But between us there is an age gap;
However, with others girls, I wish you much success.

Others, who either didn’t bother to read my profile or least compose a grammatically-correct response, received the following:

Quite honestly, as your inquest might imply,
To impress me, you couldn't be bothered to try.
If you've read my profile,
You will find it worthwhile;
To put some thought into you reply.

The best reply I received came from a guy who is an English teacher. However, I had to coerce the reply out of him, since originally, he claimed that he couldn’t come up with anything half as original as my profile. But, when I saw that creative writing was one of his interests, I told him I wasn’t buying. My criticism produced the following reply:

You're very demanding!

Alright, here goes *Ahem*...

A young knight of valorous fame,
From the lair of a great dragon came.
His armour once white,
Now charred from his fight,
But his head still attached through the flames.

He had walked paths of shadow and fire,
Emerging unscathed, though quite tired.
Settling down did he seek,
A fair woman to speak,
With assets which he could admire.

He strode into a bar in some town,
A young maiden 'cross the room stared him down.
She had fiery hair,
And, oh, quite the pair…
Of glimm'ring green orbs 'neath her crown.

"Good evening, my lady," he said,
And beside her placed the dragon's great head.
Curling her lip, she eyed,
The beast's ugly, scaled hide,
"Oh, don't worry," he said, "it's quite dead."

She didn't doubt that such was the case,
But the grimace remained 'cross her face.
"A rose would have sufficed,
For a rather nice tryst,"
And the knight appeared rather disgraced.

He swept the head away with a shrug,
Producing instead a great mug.
"A drink then?" he asked,
Handing the lady a flask,
And soon they both lay upon the rug.

(Unfortunately, things didn’t go anywhere with this chap.)