Where There's a Weep, There's a Way

As queen of sitting calmly through uncomfortable situations, this one was one of the more testing situations. This is all character building, right? Building thicker skin? Well, let me tell you friends, I'm your modern day Michelin Man. In part because I have been known to eat boxes of Fudge-o's for dinner. But that is neither here, nor there.

There are quite a few things that shouldn't happen on a first date, but this was a series of almost everything that could go wrong, did and it crumbled before my eyes. It's almost like watching someone eating with their mouth gaping open. It's a slow, horrifying process that you feel nauseated from watching, yet even with all your might, you simply can't turn away. You just sit there and gawk because that is the best action you can physically muster.

About six months ago, I went on a date with a seemingly kind, young man. We kept it simple and decided to meet at a local tea room, which was much less decadent than some places I have gone on a first date (see: "Age is Nothing But a Number" to remind you of the extravagance I have experienced in a first date). Our conversation was going on with great ease for the most part. Of course in meeting someone new, there are slight obstacles that you try traipsing around, but there wasn't anything that was insurmountable to get over.

At least there wasn't until we started talking about what I wanted to do for a living.

Long story short, I want to pursue a career in mental health care/counselling. In mentioning this, it was almost as I had seen a shift in his gaze towards me, realizing that he could speak to me about certain issues thinking that it wouldn't faze me one bit.

It wouldn't have fazed me if it were a friend who felt like they could confide in me. Or even if it were a stranger confiding in me, I wouldn't have minded. It's just that in wooing a potential mate on a first date, it's probably best if one leaves burdens from past relationships at the door. At least until we are seriously dating.

So viewing my ability to speak openly about tough situations, he found a way in. He started talking about a trip he had made to South Korea in the previous year to teach English. In the throes of the country he met a lovely Asian woman who had been through quite a bit of family struggles and there they had found love and solidarity in supporting each other. The relationship was so serious in fact, that she had moved all the way to Canada with him. However, the relationship headed towards a sour patch, and going down that path had irrevocable consequences. They had been broken up for about 6 months before I had the good fortune in going out on this date with him, and hearing him weep through this story.

Yes, you read that right. In re-living this story, he spent a good half hour at least, wiping away tears streaming down his face. Large, globular tears, mixed in with him sniffling slight snot. (My homegirl Sinead knows this all too well, am I right?) Snot-induced-tears falling while he exclaimed, "IT STILL HURTS TO THINK ABOUT THIS!"

I am usually a good person to turn to when this sort of crisis is happening, but this time around, I felt like I had been rendered catatonic. I had no proper reaction to put forth that would either help or even hurt the situation. So I sat there, and let him cry into his tea cup, checking my watch every so often to see how long this would endure. I felt sorry that he felt the need to release his frustrations to someone he barely knew. But in feeling that, I felt like a terrible person. I probably am a terrible person.

The only constructive advice I could give him was to seek out a professional counselor. Because as much as I would have legitimately tried to help him with his heart-on-the-mend, I didn't have the tools to do it. And it just wasn't what I was expecting out of a first date.

He tried to connect with me a few times after our date, but I regretfully evaded his requests to see me. I just couldn't keep going in a dating scenario, in which I knew I couldn't be his focus. And I didn't want to try and change that. He had to realize that positive change comes from how one treats themselves, even if others have trampled upon their confidence and trust. It's a difficult lesson that people have to get through, but one that's imperative to learn.

In fact, a few weeks ago I ran into him on the bus. I was engrossed in a book I was reading when all of the sudden I felt someone sit down beside me. I looked up and saw his side-view, but then I immediately looked down because I had thought I recognized him... Though I wasn't entirely sure. So using my super-sleuth Nancy Drew skills, I used my best physical ability to investigate by angling my phone to see his reflection and truly figure out if it was him. But when that didn't quite work, I pulled a Mindy Lahiri, and tried to view him through a curtain of my own hair. Quite similarly to this:

Needless to say, he didn't say anything to me, much less even acknowledged my presence. Probably because I was a grade-A creep monster, to someone who was sitting directly beside me. I guess I have my lessons to learn as a pseudo-adult, as much as this person seemingly should. But on the road to more positive changes, at least I can use these examples to remember what not to do. Especially since I have it officially written for all to see. :)

Textual Relations: Part Deux

Alright, I have to admit that a few days after I had written my first post about online dating, I ended up getting a slew of new messages that were sub par. If you guys haven't read the first post, stop reading this immediately and scroll down until you see the first "Textual Relations". All the while, reading other posts along the way. This is not a shameless plug. :)

By the way, did I say sub par? I mean, they were getting increasingly nightmare-ish. Some of these people could have given Freddy Krueger a run for his money.

It's like these people knew I had a blog in which I make fun of them.

Behold:

"So a Bear and a Rabbit are taking a shit in the woods. The Bear turns to the Rabbit and says, ''Do you have a problem with shit sticking to your fur?'' To which the Rabbit replies, ''No.'' So the Bear wiped his ass with the Rabbit."  (Was that supposed to be a joke? Try harder.)

"Comedy?! Any good jokes?!
I've got one for ya. What's got two legs and bleeds? Half a cat."    (WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE A JOKE? BECAUSE IF YOU MUST KNOW, I DON'T FIND ANIMAL ABUSE FUNNY. NEITHER DO MOST PEOPLE.)

"Your way prettier than I am, but I bet my scarves are nicer." ( .... I don't even want to go there.)

"Hey im only a 7 but i make 300 k a year, so that counts for something rite?"  (Seriously?! How do  you make $300, 000 a year, when you can't properly string words together in a sentence? Where have I gone wrong, world?!)

"So im guessing your from Pakistan, an i right?"  (Well, you're getting closer, but no cigar.)

"Hey, you are cute like a little kitten. Wanna play a game? And no, it’s not sexual before you think that’s what I’m insinuating you perv."  (Did a pedophile just insult me?)

"Hey I was thinking of robbing a bank, fleeing down to the oceanfront, driving off a cliff, and faking my own death this week (SCUBA tanks in trunk), are you in?"  (Actually, I might have said yes to that. I like a little danger sometimes.)

This was the only message that I was impressed with, out of the gems I received: 

"Are U East Indian?"  (YAY SOMEONE GOT IT RIGHT!)


Also, one of my friends sent me a link which is poignant to what I have written here. Bad online-dating victims, unite.

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2013/more-okcupid-messages-that-diminish-my-faith-in-love-and-humanity/

When should I start the support group? Name a time and place, my friends. It's going to be a long and arduous healing process.

The Rise and Fall of Chivalry

There was one instance very recently, in which I thought I had found some one who had potential.

Now in saying that, I am not necessarily insinuating that people in general don't have potential, it's just that often times it's not displayed properly. Or that it isn't displayed properly to me.

Anyhow on that dour note, I met someone who had potential. He seemed interesting and fairly well-read, but most of all, he was POLITE.

For those of you who know me personally, you have all heard my rant about public niceties and how the general population nowadays seems to be lacking in treating each other well. Just for the sake of being nice and well-meaning to someone. I mean, why not? What's the harm? Are you afraid that a nice gesture is going to just bounce off cold, dark hearts such as mine? Do you want to pass off as one of those brooding, sad-poet types, who has a heart of gold underneath? A heart that only people can access by wielding an ice-pick to your chest? Well stop, your shtick is done.

It's so simple, yet it seems like such an obscure action to be sincere.

Anyways, rant over. I am a hard woman to please, as clearly explicated in this blog.

In such fashion, I had high expectations from this person and he was meeting, possibly exceeding them. At least, he was at first. Let's list off the good signs:

1) In texts he was sending me, he would always ask me about my day, and ask specific details about what made it great or lacking. How thoughtful!
2) He spent a lot of time travelling in the last few months, and was excited to tell me about his humbling experiences (mainly his experience in India). Also, he wanted to talk to me about all the books he stumbled upon in his travels. That, right there my friends, is Jula cat-nip.
3) Before the date, he asked me if he could come pick me up, as he didn't want me to get rained upon while walking to the restaurant. I respectfully declined, but wow! I was at the point of thinking that people liked the wet-dog look on me.

And as an aside,
4) I had cut up my leg while shaving earlier that day, so I presumed that if something were to go wrong that night, it had to be that moment. So I threw on a Strawberry Shortcake band-aid and went on my way, head held high.

We met at the restaurant, a pretty little pizzeria in town. We sat down and started talking. Things were going well, but I noticed something as soon as the waitress approached us...

The nice, polite boy started treating our waitress like she was scum of the earth. That she was lower than the scum sitting on the earth's surface, in fact. I was dumbfounded. He didn't smile, or make eye-contact with her, and when she asked him if he wanted drinks, or to hear the specials, he just waved his hand away at her. I tried to make up for his gross ignorance by being my friendly, cheery self to our server, however it didn't warm the tone of our restaurant interactions.

At first, I tried to rationalize it as him being nervous and not acting truly as himself, but it became apparent that it just wasn't so. In speaking with him about his travels to India, the things that he focused on in our discussion was how different everything was for him (I'm sorry for being politically incorrect here, but that is a typical rich white-boy reaction when going to an Asian country. Pardon the pun, but talk about something different) AND started talking about "disgusting" habits people had when he was traversing through the slums ("like people spitting on the ground").

Really? Do you not see who is sitting in front of you? Does my brown look off-white to you? Like taupe, or something? DO YOU THINK PEOPLE HAVE FIVE-STAR HOTEL HABITS WHEN THEY LIVE IN A SLUM?

It became apparent to me that this person traveled to make him appear better and more astute than he actually was. The disappointment washed over me in crashing waves.

During the dinner, in which he described to me his one-dimensional world views, some slap-stick moments happened to me that if anyone else in the world had experienced while sitting in front of me, they would have at the very least started laughing nervously, or asked to take me to a hospital because I looked like I had been suffering from an aneurysm.  However, to make things even more awkward, he continued blathering without taking any notice of what was happening to me. There is something to be said, when the person sitting in front of you is completely ignoring what's happening in front of them. Here are the instances:

1) I drank down my (fifth) cup of water too quickly and started to choke on my water. I recovered after a minute.
2) I spilled most of my pizza on to my lap and while trying to wipe out the stains from my dress, I accidentally punched the table with my knuckle. I yelped and cried in the inside.
3) I accidentally poured the entire bottle of chili flakes on to my pizza, and tried to rectify it by spreading it around the pie.. while eating it, there were silent tears streaming down my cheeks from all the heat (happening in the wrong place), and I am fairly certain the colour of my nose rivaled Rudolph-the-Red-Nosed-Reindeer.

And yet, still nothing.

Anyways, the date petered off from there. He complained about the food not coming fast enough and the server being daft (the food's arrival timing was impeccable, and our server was amazing, especially under the circumstances), and decided to not leave a tip. I left a generous tip just before we left.

I guess my hope to find someone chivalrous was nixed at this point. Perhaps finding someone polite isn't supposed to be at the forefront, rather than surrounding yourself with people who are just genuine. Surrounding yourself with people who are chivalrous because it's in their nature, rather than considering it a public service that one is confined to do. Keep those sincere people close, my friends. I, of course, keep you  guys close.

Facebook Sex-Life Psychic

You know those Facebook statuses that no one re-posts when they advise you to do so (for it's mostly spam)?  Well this one was one that I felt worthy to re-post on a more targeted platform:

"Grab the nearest book to you, turn to page 45, and read the first sentence on the page. This sentence describes your sex-life in 2012..." 

'I love New York and it likes me okay.' 

Sounds about right.

Thank you Mindy Kaling for knowing my feelings, and helping me eat them away.

Liz Lemon is my Hero

This is essentially my philosophy if I ever meet the man of my dreams:

Textual Relations

I gave in.

I have an online dating profile. 

Well, I have had one on and off for the past little while. However, I find that I start up a profile thinking, "YEAAA, WHERE DEM MEN AT" and then being horribly disappointed when it dawns on me that online dating is even worse than real-life dating. 

My view of the whole phenomenon is epitomized in this internet meme: 

I always have such high expectations in the people I am speaking with. I mean, everyone is looking for someone who is fairly intelligent, modest, good-looking but not knowing that he's good looking... you know, the works. Actually someone like this, per se: 

But, because this is me we are talking about, it's almost always this: 

Without further ado, I shall recite you the pure poetry of messages I have received from potential suitors: 

(Disclaimer: These are not edited in the slightest.)

"Have you ever played Xiangqi (Chinese Chess)?" (Award for the most random message.)

"Hey are you pink or red inside?"  (HOW AWFUL IS THAT)

"omg your like my worse enemy!!"   (Yes, yes I am. You should probably take a course or seven on English Grammar. White boy.)

"I wanna floss with your pubic hair."  (I should definitely call this guy, right? Seems incredibly chivalrous.)

"Who lies more girls or guys?"  (Your dumb questions are not worth my time. NEXT.)

And the message that went straight to the point of asking me about my ethnicity: 

"R U terrorist?" (OBVIOUSLY, COME ON, I'M BROWN, RIGHT?)

....

This post speaks for itself. I might start an online-dating therapy group, let me know if you would like to join.

Tongues of Fire (Special Guest Writer: Vanessa)

Sometimes a date creeps up on you by surprise. Usually this happens when you're hanging out with someone you thought was just a friend. I ended up on a date-I-didn't-know-was-a-date in the summer after first year. He was a friend who was in a few of my classes, and our commutes home would sometimes overlap. I can't remember exactly how it came about, but we made plans to see the sequel of a pirate-themed summer blockbuster. I had actually had a crush on him during the school year, but what happened after the movie completely horrified me:

After the movie, we walked to a nearby coffee shop. On the way, he made for my hand, but grasped it in a manner more resembling the way a parent leads a small child by the hand. I could forgive this first offence. Maybe intertwined fingers is a bit intimate for a non-date date. But afterwards, being the only ones waiting at a bus stop, he went in for a kiss. It was a little wet--again, something I could forgive--but then it turned into something of an attack, as he proceeded to strangle me with his tongue. It still ranks as the worst kiss I have ever received.

Once we'd parted ways, I felt like I was facing a dilemma. The whole situation brought to mind that episode of Sex and the City where Charlotte goes on a date with a bad kisser who basically licks here face. Things didn't work out too well for her; she tried to steer him on the right path, but couldn't put up with it, told him he was a bad kisser and left he left the picture.

I feel bad for the way things ended, because there was a second non-date. I frankly don't remember too much about it other than it was hopelessly awkward as I was trying to run down the clock and avoid the topic of our (non)relationship status. Our friendship pretty much fizzled out after that.

Facebook-Status Worthy

What can happen to you that deems it relevant to post on to Facebook?

This:

"So earlier today, I had some slack-jawed, unkempt wackadoodles objectify me from their pick-up truck as they were puttering by, by honking, cat-calling, and whistling. In my attempt to retaliate, I turned (while still walking) to flip them off, but instead walked and ricocheted off of a standing pole that was directly in front of me. They snickered, and kept driving..
Morals of the story: First, never waste energy (positive or negative) on things that don't deserve your attention. And second, make sure you have the ability to laugh. Mainly, at yourself."

Lesson learned.

Age is Nothing But a Number

Okay, I realize I am probably the world's worst blogger. I am not consistent in keeping up with a potentially good thing, as apparently represented in my dating history.

Anyways.

This is one story I have been waiting to tell. Clearly.

Not because of the unfortunate situation that I happened to find myself within, but the whole scenario was a bit of a disaster from the get-go.

At my old retail job, I met a client who seemed mature, intelligent and promising, three things that hardly coincide and are usually mutually exclusive (at least, in my experiences, they are). That and I couldn't get over his fantastic hipster spectacles. After a few days of chatting about various subjects, he asked me to go out with him...

Let us interject with flaws, right off the bat. I probably shouldn't have agreed to go out with someone to whom I provided a service... then again, who needs rules when it comes to dating? (Me)

It started off with a phone call: "Hi! I would love to take you out for dinner tonight, meet me in front of the mall downtown, and I am going to surprise you in the restaurant we're going to! Don't worry, I think you will like where I am taking you!"

You would think that was a mature, romantic gesture, but let's be honest here: when it comes to me and my relationship with food, no one should ever assume what I like. It's a relationship that has outlasted and is unique to any other, in it's ability to carry my weight.. or as most would say, me carrying it's weight. Nevertheless, we have an unbreakable bond.

Also, if any of us has learned anything from Jack Donaghy from 30 Rock: "Never go with a hippie to a second location."

We met in front of the mall, and proceeded to make our way to the restaurant.. which was in a swanky hotel. On the roof-top over-looking the city, where he reserved a table by the window. And the price of the cheapest meal was equivalent to the Gross Domestic Product of Spain. And Italy. Combined.

It was a restaurant to take your spouse to on your twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Instead, I was there on a first date.

I honestly just wanted a greasy burger. Maybe some fries. Definitely some fries.

We sat down, and I scanned the restaurant for the nearest fire exits/assessed how far the fall would be if I broke through and jumped out the window. While deciding what to order, we had started making more small talk, and I noticed even more... how... mature he seemed to be...

After ordering the world's most expensive carrot soup (maybe the broth was made of gold), I decided to be open and honest: "So, I just want to let you know, I am twenty-one. And I figure that you might be a little older, so I must know what the age difference is."

His response: ".... I don't want to say."

Me: "You have to tell me, right now."

Him: "Well, I just turned forty last week. But age is just a number, right? When it comes to love, there are no boundaries."

Wait. WHAT? My mind went to depths unforeseen. He was "mature" because he was essentially twice my age! His hipster glasses WERE BIFOCALS which he actually needed to see better BECAUSE HE WAS OLD. AND WHAT? WHEN IT COMES TO LOVE, THERE ARE NO BOUNDARIES? NO BOUNDARIES?! I AM FAIRLY CERTAIN THAT IS WHAT MARY-KAY LETOURNEAU SAID TO VILI FUALAAU.

I needed to nip this in the bud, and fast. I immediately made up a lie that I had just gotten out of a long, strenuous relationship with someone who was my best-friend for several years and I just couldn't give anyone proper emotional attention, let alone him, who deserved to be happy. His face immediately fell, and started sharing stories with me about the last ten women who broke his heart (of course there were at least ten women... because he was forty) and how he just wanted to find a nice girl with whom he could settle down and get married and start a family, blah, blah, blah. He was in near tears discussing it. For that reason, (perhaps because I was a weak human being for feeling bad) I decided to stay for the dinner, making it clear that I was there enjoying dinner with a newly-found friend.

Apparently, it gave him new, creepy hope. Throughout the dinner, he kept drinking copious amounts of coffee to stay awake, in hopes that we would "go for a midnight walk by the ocean."

.... SO YOU COULD PUT ME IN A BODY BAG? NO WAY, JOSÉ. I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE.

(His name is not José.)

I needed to officially kibosh it, so I took a couple more sips of the expensive, yet tasteless soup and lied to him about having a really early class to prepare for the next morning. It was then that he insisted on walking me home, because he wanted to ensure my safety... (The irony keeps smacking me in the face every time I think about it.)

I was with it enough to realize that I did NOT want this man to walk me to where I lived, let alone walk me anywhere. I let him walk me to the Legislative Buildings and we parted, not before him giving me a hug goodbye which resulted in him clinging on to me for moments too long, while my arms lay limp along my side, the rest of my body trying to wriggle free.

Immediately upon saying good-bye, I ran home, checking behind me every minute or so to make sure I wasn't being followed. A cold shower ensued when I arrived to my apartment.

In hindsight, I understand that he was someone who really wanted to be in love. And I appreciate it, and almost envy his ability to have such raw feeling in rapid waves (for I usually feel nothing). But it was manifested in the wrong person. The wrong person in EVERY POSSIBLE WAY. And maybe I am being somewhat lenient, considering I went on a date with some one who was a potential pedophile, but my hope is that he found his balance in life. Maybe that is the important lesson here. Balance is key to a truly happy life. At least in my perspective.

But then again, I wouldn't have a blog if my life were balanced.

Shameless

Dear faithful friends,

This isn't really an update about a failed date. Just more a confirmed realization that I had a surge in viewership of this blog in the last few days.. by like a couple of hundred hits. Not that it's much of a feat, really. However, it means that collectively, the photo of myself (or a troll doll with glasses, however you perceive it) at eleven years old had been seen a couple hundred times. (274 times to be exact.)

I just wanted to leave this here as a disclaimer that I can in no way be responsible for any immediate blindness this has caused. So no sending me your medical bills for any lasik surgery you may have had. I know your motive.

Sincerely,

Jula

PS: This is a picture of me now, totally authentic:

PPS: Yes, I am Beyoncé. Don't spill the beans though.

Call-out for Candour

I know in this blog so far, I have shared some of my finer moments in my journey through dating. Dating, which lead to retching, then rising from the basin I was using while retching, and then finally moving forward. Then of course, lather, rinse and repeat the whole damn process.

Regardless, I know you, as the reader, keep reading through the cringe-worthy scenarios because you have some level of empathy for me. You may understand what I am going through because you are in the same boat or have been in the past. Or you are just laughing at me. Either way, I invite you to submit your own terrible date stories to me that you wish to publish. I appreciate candour. I will not add names or dates to anything you provide to protect anonymity. Submit stories to fail.date.chronicles@gmail.com and they will make their way to this platform! Or if there are any queries, direct them here as well! Happy writing!

The Onion Date : Layers of Impending Doom

When I was younger, I really hated onions.

I hated the taste, the lack of colour to the vegetable, the texture, the ordeal you go through when peeling back the layers. It was physically and emotionally draining to add it to any meal.

As some form of Hindu torture, my mom would make me cut up onions to add to whatever main dish we were preparing, as she loved onions and needed to have them by her side at all times. I was almost always happy to help because the notion of dicing onions is like forgetting the pain after experiencing child birth. Okay, maybe not to that extent of pain, but you forget how many tears you shed from your burning eyes while peeling back layer after layer. After layer. And then you just keep weeping.

This is much like the first time I had gone on a date, and not realizing that I was indeed, on one.

A few years ago, a friend and I had been house sitting, and were living in the house for a few weeks. One night, she and I were about to go see a movie with another friend. That friend decided to invite one of their friends along, someone who happened to be slightly socially awkward. Let us just refer to him as "The Awkward Boy" from here on out for leisure and privacy's sake. I didn't mind to invite him with us, because I am one to embrace awkward situations, and have a funny story to tell later. 

.... I didn't quite realize that interacting with him, would turn out to be more than just a funny, awkward story, when I got stuck with him on the hour long drive to the movie theater...

My other two friends and I flipped a coin to see which one of us would join The Awkward Boy in his car to travel to the theatre. I had clearly, won the toss. 

On our drive up, this boy had started to display nuances of his... interesting sense of humour. And when I say interesting, I mean morbid. We had witnessed a (bad) fender bender along the drive down the highway, in which his reaction was: "Wouldn't it be funny if (our friends) were in that car crash?"

Oh goodie, I was stuck in a car on the highway with a psychopath. I've always had such a dream.

Anyhow, we ended up reaching the theatre so late, that we couldn't get into the showing that our friends (who ended up getting there on time) were currently in. So, as a consolation, the boy and I decided to go grab a bite to eat at the local Boston Pizza, while waiting for our friends to get out of the movie.

During this dinner, conversation continued to devolve even more than I could have imagined.

Things were going okay for a little while, until he mentioned his weekly party habits, and started listing off the women with whom he had hooked up/tried to hook up, and was having issues with remaining eloquent about it. Thoughts were streaming through my head such as, "Yes, we know you're proud that you have an operational penis" and "Well, at least he thinks of me as his bro, with whom he could degrade other women". At this point, my fingers were tightening further around the fork on the table to shove into my eye socket. Or his.

Then he mentioned, "You know, this is the first proper date I have actually been on."

My response: "Excuse me?"

Him: "We're on a date, aren't we?"

Charleswhatnow? When did I miss that memo? I would have rather died a thousand deaths. Also the fork clutched tightly within my fist had moved it's intended direction from his eye to his groin. Subconsciously, of course.

As you could tell, I was in a bit of a quandary. Do I show my true feelings of disgust and contempt? Or do I keep it on the safe side and concede, as I am out with a potential psychopath? I decided to keep my safety in my best interests, and continued on with the dinner. Because I would at least get a free dinner out of all this, right?

Wrong. Try again, sucka.

At the end of our seemingly too long meal, I asked for the check. Upon receiving it, he said, "Oh by the way, I have no money, so can you pay for our dinner?"

OH MY GOD. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I almost had an aneurysm at that moment. Wouldn't he have had the money to see the movie?

Although realizing that he was my ride back home, I again, bit my tongue and paid for the whole thing. I had solace in the fact that my night would soon be over and I would be in nice warm bed by myself with some tea.

We met briefly with our friends when they got out of the movie, and parted ways to get back to town again. The girl with whom I was house-sitting went with our mutual friend, and I braved another drive with Awkward Boy. I went on with the notion that things couldn't get worse.

Again, I was wrong, because of two factors that I could not control:
1) The highway had closed off for two hours at certain points during the night at the time because they were expanding it. The boy and I had got past the closure just before it started. Our friends who were just behind us did not make it past the closure.
2) The girl with whom I was house-sitting had the keys to the house. And she was in the other car. Stuck in the closure.

So, he ended up driving me back to the house and left me without offering to stay. When I say it in such light, I make it sound like he wasn't willing to accommodate my needs, but I was rather relieved when he left. In fact, I believe I insisted. For I realized that I would rather spend two hours during a chilly March night sitting in a rocking chair outside a locked house (with incessant barking from the dog in the backyard), than spend one more minute in that situation.

In all those cringe worthy details, there are some lessons to be learned here:
1) Always carry your own keys.
2) When going out with someone in general, you may or may not need to clarify whether or not it's a "date". Do this by either A) asking politely if you are on a date (if the guy is cute and doesn't seem like an axe-murderer - asking questions is always a thumbs up in dating anyways), or B) Loudly yelling out "THIS IS NOT A DATE" (if the guy looks like he may be carrying a weapon in his pocket, i.e: a machete. This will alert the public around you, and it's always good to have your surroundings be aware).
3) Bring a jacket with you, with some extra cash in the pocket in case this sort of situation arises. For example, if you need to cab back to your home in the next city, pack that extra one hundred dollars you had saved up for a Bora Bora vacation fund. Chances are you will never go.

Oh and be sure to pack a sense of humour along with it, stuffed in the opposite pocket. I needed mine.

Serendipitous

This isn't necessarily a failed date, but rather, a failed interaction with a male. One that only I, of all people, would have. So this counts.

As aforementioned, I have a lot of hair. One long, thick mane. I may have been a horse in a previous lifetime.

A few days ago, I was running to catch a bus and the city was undergoing a downpour. Upon seeing the bus I needed to take, I made a dash for it, but not before noticing a tall, gorgeous man under an umbrella, making eye contact with me. At that moment, I entertained a myriad of romantic possibilities in my head, and they were accelerating at rapid speeds. I thought of everything from our first date, to our Bollywood wedding, to our future mixed-race (or as I refer to it: milk chocolate) children. Upon returning eye contact while passing, I failed to notice anything else around me: including the spoke on his umbrella that got caught in my hair, and sent me ricocheting backwards into him.

His reaction (clearly dumbfounded):
"I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

My reaction (while staring into his lovely, dark eyes):
"I'm sorry too!" I cried. "Although, I don't know why. Sorry. There's my bus, I've got to run! See you again!"

And so, I ran.

Chances are I may never see him again. But one can always hope that moments like these will happen again. And I can bet you, this sort of thing will happen to me at least once more. Let's just hope it's with another handsome fellow.

Humble Beginnings

Ah, beginnings. There is always a first time for everything, and thus, there is a first story/anecdote/terrible tale for it all. To mark the birth of this platform, here are my humble beginnings as a cynical, single woman. 

I was one of those girls who didn't start dating until later into high school. I came from a traditional, Indo-Canadian family, which became broken about half-way through my childhood due to divorce. My mom took on the role as father-figure as well as being a mother, and was always willing to share her wisdom with me when it came to making it on my own, sans men.

"No dating until you're well into your forties, laddu." (Lesson: Abstain until you're ready.) 

"Boys are gross. Stupid. No dating, even after you're forty." (Lesson: Relationships can have it's disappointments.)

"You're not allowed to date, even after I die, love. But I want beautiful grandchildren from you." (Lesson: Immaculate conception will be my future.)

As you can see, I had been equipped with all the tools I needed to face the big bad world of boys, along with my bushy, triangle shaped hairstyle, and large pedophile glasses I donned back in the day. In fact, I have real-life proof of my pre-teen glory:

           (I think I may bring those glasses back in my everyday style.)

It brought upon a series of expectations of which future mates and myself had to work towards. The purpose of this first affirmation (and future posts) is not only to remind myself of those standards, but to inspire you, the reader, to laugh and learn (but mostly laugh) from these testimonials. Also, this method of creative therapy is much cheaper than the psychological workouts I would be getting from a trained professional. 

More testimonials to come.