Don’t worry dummy, I’m not going to fall in love with you this time. I think to myself as he rolls off me and far away from me, almost as if the act of our naked bodies touching even the slightest bit after we’re done having sex will be what causes me to fall in love with him again, and not the actual sex itself. He’s very strange that way. He has no problem with us doing it in his jet tub, by candlelight no less, and then hanging out in there for a good hour after, chatting and laughing while we prune. But lord forbid I linger in his bed for half a minute too long after he’s done.

I keep telling myself that this is the last time. This is the last time I’m going to be so available to hang out when he texts me, the last time I come to his house, the last time I’m going give in to the carnal attraction we have for one another.

But when I see his name on my phone something inside me just can’t resist. Every. Single. Time. I have this weird pull to him. I always have. Even though I know that this is for the most part all we’ll ever be – fuck buddies – and it’s really all I want it to be at the moment, the power Erik has over me is sometimes astounding. And no matter how I feel after I see him, I keep coming back for more.

Lately we have slipped back into the routine we had before I moved to Lakeview. I hear from him every week, like clockwork, usually on Saturday to chat. He’s so busy (nothing has changed in that way) that sometimes we just chat for a little bit about what is new and we say that hopefully we will see each other soon and that’s that. But more often than not, especially lately, hearing from him means I’m heading over to his place to go have a bath.

While the bath thing is slightly hilarious, it has changed the dynamic of our relationship. A lot. You wouldn’t think it would, after all it’s just some hot water bubbles in a bath tub. But when we are in there together we talk. Like really talk. Whether it’s politics, religion, sex or Simpsons quotes, nothing is off limits. Our bath chats have even led to a fairly serious chat about his parents, whom he rarely mentions, and after knowing him for 11 years I finally found out how and when they both passed away. It was weird to see him so vulnerable and raw (emotionally of course, we were already naked in a tub, so how much more raw and vulnerable could a person even get?) But he has been more open with me in the last 3 months in that damn tub than he had been all previous 10 years we’ve known each other. Combined. Maybe the candles he lights have a story telling aroma in them, some sort of new age voodoo type deal. Or maybe he’s actually maturing. After all, he also told me he wants to have kids someday.

Possibly my kids in fact. Yes. This conversation actually happened. It was a few months ago, and we were just chatting via text the one night. If you read all my posts you might remember me mentioning he and I having a 4 hour text conversation the one night? Well that’s the night he brought up the kids thing. It started innocently enough with him telling me that he was thinking that he wants kids now, but is scared that at his age, trying to find a partner who wants to have his children, especially since he’s still rather terrible at relationships, will be damn near impossible. I told him I’m in the same boat, I want kids more than anything in the world, but because I am single as fuck, and currently nobody wants to date me, my eggs are going to all die before I get to use any of them. He then said that if it came down to it, and we were both ready to hit the “panic button” so to speak on the kids thing that we should have a kid together.

At first I thought he was joking. It was via text after all, and come on. It’s Erik. Of course this was just a joke. But the conversation evolved into baby names and gender preferences (we both agreed we’d rather have a girl, but would of course be happy with either) and as our conversation continued, it slowly dawned on me that he may not be joking. Eventually, the subject changed, and we were no longer talking babies, and I didn’t really ever get a good idea of whether there was seriousness to the baby thing or not.

I put it out of my mind as best as I could, and had slightly convinced myself despite the evidence that he was just kidding, until about a week later when we hung out. We were in the middle of having sex, (in his bed) and he had said something along the lines of safe sex since he didn’t think we were ready to push the panic button just yet. Holy fucking hell. Could he really be serious?! In the moment, I half laughed, because what else was I supposed to do just then, we were in the middle of having sex? We finished, and that’s when he rolled away from me, as if to put actual distance between us. I honestly wonder what would have happened had we had sex in the tub that night. Perhaps the magic candlelit bubbles would have changed the scenario of that conversation ever so slightly.

He hasn’t brought up the kids thing since, but I have not stopped thinking about it. I have a pros and cons list in my brain, and the pros side is surprisingly (not really all that surprisingly) long. There are so many reasons why having a baby with him would be perfect. He’d be a great dad. He’s a great man. He’d be in the kid’s life, and would provide for it. Erik and I have similar beliefs and values when it comes to politics, religion, and education. He’s educated, and reasonable, which I feel would be super beneficial when I raise my kid based on everything I know from my experience in early childhood education. The only con – and quite frankly it’s a big enough con to outweigh every last pro – is the chance of there at some point being feelings beyond just co-parenting involved. No matter how perfect a co-parenting situation might be with him, all of that is shot to shit the second one of us (probably me, let’s be honest) starts to fall for the other one.

I know I’d get hurt by the situation. I know that no matter how he feels about me, I will never, ever in my life hear him tell me that he’s in love with me. That is just never going to happen. And as much as I am desperate to hit that panic button, and as tempting as it is to hit it immediately, I know that besides a baby that I would for sure love more than anything else in the world, nothing good would come out of that situation.

So, I guess for now, that’s where we are. Yet again in this weird, fucked up limbo where I don’t quite know where I stand with Erik, or how I feel about the situation between us, but sure as shit not stopping myself from seeing him and putting myself into this confusing place. The only difference is that nowadays instead of daydreaming about being with him, I’m daydreaming about what our daughter might be like. She’s got a name and everything. It’s just a shame she will never exist, and after all this buildup, I’m in the same stupid place I have always been in, and will inevitably always be.



Just Keep Going On

I’m not entirely sure when exactly my life became the script of a really poorly written sitcom, but here we all are, she writes as she continues to eat the half of a chocolate pie she pulled out of the fridge for breakfast, as she is too damn lazy to make eggs, obviously trying to illustrate the point she was trying to make.

This is where I am at now.  Comical levels of sadness. So comical in fact that I could actually be Sadness if anyone ever did the live action version of Inside Out.  Which is a vast departure from the state I was in the last time I put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard as it were) to write my story.  The last time you and I were together, I was sitting on the beach with Chuck, so happy to have a wonderful, beautiful new boyfriend.  I was enjoying our time together, and enjoying having someone in my life that I liked.  Of course, because it’s me, and my life after all is a sitcom, that feeling of joy didn’t last more than a full month after that.  I’m not sure if it was the sleeping with someone else that ruined it for me, the fact that he slept with someone who found out she had Chlamydia, or the fact that he couldn’t figure out why  I didn’t want to stay with him because of those two facts (he had apologized for cheating after all, AND he got me meds to take just in case I had gotten Chlamydia from him, and hey, he at least told me he cheated, he didn’t have to, so isn’t he a great guy, and can’t we just work things out?) and then proceeded to essentially stalk me for the following month till I threatened to go to the cops.  I’m not sure which of those three things really made me not like him.  I mean he’s obviously such a catch, I should have just been thankful that he wanted to be with me.  *eyes roll so far back into my head that I go blind*

After all that I took a little break from dating, haha, just kidding, no I didn’t, I got back onto Plenty of Fish and Tinder almost immediately, and by December, I had started meeting new people.  It was pretty slow going, not much to write about, until I got a message from a ghost named Max.  He sent me this really long message, apologizing for being such an asshole to me, and asked if I’d like to meet him for dinner sometime.  I messaged back laying down the law that if we were going to hang out again it would be on my terms.  So we did, and it was like a year had not passed.  I got the same feeling I had last year when we had spent time together, and it wasn’t actually until we were having sex, that I felt different.  Yes, I slept with him, can we save the judgment (I’m projecting here, I know this, shut up) for later in this post? Cause I’m betting you are gonna need all the judgment you got for later.  Anyways, when we were making the sex it was like my brain woke up and reminded me of how he treated me last year.  I started to give myself shit, like all he has to do is say he’s sorry, pay for your meal and buy you some really fancy expensive yarn (yes, he did that, and it’s beautiful and I can’t decide what I want to make with it) and you are back in his bed, and feeling like absolute garbage? What in the actual fuck is the matter with you?  So needless to say I left his place very unsettled and unsatisfied.  We saw a movie together a week or so later, and then after that you know what happened?  History repeated itself.  I just stopped hearing from him.  Again.  Because if I’ve learned one thing in this life it’s that if you do something you know you shouldn’t be doing, the universe or whatever the fuck will show you exactly why you shouldn’t have done that thing.

Which brings me to right now.  Yes there have been more funny dating stories that I could share, and a few more that are less than hilarious, but since we are talking about letting in blasts from the past when you fucking know better, and since it’s fresh in my brain, we come to last night.  After a few months of less than impressive dating stats, I wrote a big longwinded post on Facebook about the woes of dating, specifically online dating.  I was doing my best to keep things as light and funny as possible, but I obviously came off almost as dark and depressed as I have been lately, because no more than 5 minutes after I hit post, I received a text message from the infamous Erik.  If you don’t know who Erik is, then who even are you, and how did you find this tiny little blog in the most random corner of the internet?  Now, hearing from Erik is nothing new.  In fact, I’ve been hearing from him here and there a lot since Kevin and I split.  We’ve only seen each other in person a few times, but every few weeks I get a text from him, just him saying hello, or telling me something he knows I’d find interesting or funny, like a couple months ago, when a former football player I used to enjoy was working on a production he was involved with.  Our interactions have been very friendly, and while I am always painfully aware of our past whenever I see him or hear from him, overall I think we have made it to this place beyond the awkward where we can maybe actually be friends. With or without the benefits.

Last night he could tell I was down.  And no matter what the motivation to message me was, he was the only person who reached out to ask if I was ok.  He saw through the sarcasm of my post, and could tell that things maybe weren’t as lighthearted and humorous as I was trying to make it seem.  He took what could have been an awful night for me, and made it into a really fun night by doing something not many people in my life can do for me right now – he was just there.  All we did was text, but we chatted about everything from old Simpsons episodes to the thought of having kids one day to him telling me I should audition for a production sometime.  We even cleared the air about what happened between us.  He told me he still feels guilty that he couldn’t give me all the things I wanted with us, and I told him that it’s nothing to feel guilty about, that you can’t force yourself to love someone when you simply don’t.  We talked for almost 4 straight hours, and it was probably the first time since we met over 10 years ago that we actually opened up to each other like that.  Regardless of how I’m feeling today about it (slightly confused, and mad at myself that my heart still skips a tiny bit when I see his name appear on my phone) I’m so glad that it happened.  I’m glad someone, even the most unlikely person was there for me when I just needed to talk to someone.

So judge away.  I know I’m judging me.  And I know I’ll never learn.  But at least with me not learning, it gives me a reason once every 6 months at least to come back and work my shit out here.  Thanks for sticking around a little while longer with me.


Duuuuuuude….I Know Right?!

If you didn’t read the word dude in your head like a surfer in a cheesy surfer movie from 1992, you are no longer invited to read my blog (just kidding, please stay) but you get bonus points if you pictured a Keanu Reeves from Bill and Ted’s, Jon Heder when he does the voice of the surfing chicken in Surf’s Up, or Matthew McConaughey (alright, alright, alriiight) in anything Matthew McConaughey (alright, alright, alriiight) has ever been in. Duuuuuuuude. (Not that you’ll ever get the chance, but my surfer dude voice in real life is totally bitchin! Actually, my British accent is amazing, my Valley Girl voice is downright haunting because of its absolute beauty, but my Irish, Jamaican and Australian accents are absolute shit.  You can’t be perfect at everything I guess.)

So this week’s blog entry was inspired by my weekend trip to Riverview, and the title of this entry was inspired by my I.T.B who has a movie review podcast (that is fantastic by the way) and is great with acronyms, and guessed that the M.M.N.B from last week’s entry was indeed short for Maybe My New Boyfriend. (I wasn’t going to ever mention my ITB on my blog for obvious stalker reasons, but fuck it; I write about everything else on here, so, equal opportunity creepy, I don’t give a fuck.)  F.Y.I, (that means For Your Information, for those of you who didn’t know) the guy who I wanted to be MMNB is just Blake now, because it is fairly evident to me that he has no interest in being my new boyfriend. I haven’t heard from him in a week, and the two texts I sent him late last week did not receive a reply. I’m no rocket scientist, but my guess is that he isn’t as busy as I’d like to believe, and that he is just not into me like I was hoping.

So we move on. While I am super disappointed by this, I am trying to not let it bother me. I am talking to a few new guys on the dating site, so at the very least I might have more material for the blog. My hopes of finding anything more than a couple of good story lines are dashed. My spirit is broken, my bed is empty, and my dating is rather perfunctory (my dating hasn’t exactly been putting the FUN in perfunctory). I am meeting everyone. My friends are having troubles keeping track of all the guys. To be honest, I do too. I am sure that seeing as though the population of Lakeview is approx. 211,000 give or take, I have dated at least half of that since I moved here in December. That’s the way it feels anyways.

As I already mentioned, this past weekend I took a trip back to Riverview to visit some friends and to celebrate my birthday (which by the way, my actual birthday day was spent watching hours of Arrested Development and being a lazy ass. It was fucking great!)

I didn’t realize till last week how much I actually fucking miss Riverview. I knew I did, but I was so excited to go back for a visit for the weekend, it was ridiculous. Friday morning I woke up with the same excitement I used to get on Christmas morning. It was then that I decided that while the move to Lakeview had been the right decision for me at the time, it probably wasn’t going to be a permanent move. I’m not sure what the time frame will be exactly (I’m thinking it will be a year, two tops) but I will be living in Riverview again.

The only thing that would keep me here would of course be the same thing that brought me here: falling in love. I also discovered this weekend that I was in serious denial about the amount I had factored Erik/FWB into my decision to move to Lakeview. I can say and write that he wasn’t the reason I moved all I fucking want, but let’s face it, I wanted to be with him, I was in love with him, and thought that he was into me, so I came here to see that through. Having my family here was a nice (read: plausible) excuse to move. Had he not been a factor, I seriously doubt I would be living in Lakeview right now.

Granted, I’d still probably be fucking him had I not moved here, but I’d also still be at only 2 sexual partners in, instead of 6.

Evidently this revelation was not news to anyone but me. Ayla told me that she already knew that I was basing my decision mostly on Erik. At first I thought, “Why didn’t she bring that to my attention before I moved?!” But then remembered who I am. I would have argued that I wasn’t, and been pissed at her for even thinking it, much less disapproving. Sometimes I marvel at my own level of stupidity. Fuck.

So anyways, what was my original point? Oh yeah, moving on. My story of moving and moving on brings me to the untold story of Dude. If you knew his actual name, this would be far more clever. But anyways, Dude was the first guy I met online last year after Erik and I hooked up for the first time.  Dude was nice, we get along good, and he seemed to be relatively normal.  The only thing that bothered me about him, was that he told me on our first date that he had been married once before, and had a 5 year old daughter.  It only bothered me, because I would prefer to end up with someone who was never married before, and someone who will only have children with me.  Sure, this may be a bit unrealistic, and does limit the amount of men available to date, but I do still want that fairytale love.

Even though I wasn’t a huge fan of his divorced/single dad status, I went out with him a couple more times because I thought he was a good guy.  It wasn’t until the third or fourth date when he confessed that he wasn’t telling the entire truth about his past.  Turns out he hadn’t been divorced once, but twice.  And he didn’t just have one 5 year old daughter, he had a 15 year old daughter and a 14 year old son as well.

That was the deal breaker for me.  Not just the two ex-wives and 3 kids thing, but the lying.  There was also the discussion we had about weddings that put me out a bit as well.  He is in the military, and told me that his next wedding would have to be a military wedding. Now, remember, I’m a girl.  I have been single for a long time.  I have been dreaming of my wedding day since I was 4 years old.  You do not tell a girl on your 3rd or 4th date that the wedding she has been dreaming of for 23 years is simply not going to happen, when it would be her first (and hopefully only) wedding, and it will be your 3rd.  So all of these things combined gave me the sense that the two of us were not going to happen.

I told him that I wasn’t interested in him romantically, and told him I’d still like to be friends.  He wanted to know why I didn’t want to date him, and didn’t understand when I told him I wasn’t attracted to him.  I couldn’t bring myself to explain to him that his past was a liability.  And wanting the wedding he wanted wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he was entitled to his opinion, and his desire for a wedding he’d like, after all he would be the groom.  But it was just all this information at once that freaked me out.  I mean, let’s play this scenario out for a minute.  Let’s say we fell in love and got married in this military ceremony.  All of a sudden I would be step-mom to 3 children, 2 of which are only 13 years younger than me.  It just would have been way too much.  I wasn’t ready for that kind of relationship.

So we have remained “friends” over the last year.  I’ve hung out with him a couple of times, and every few months we catch up via Facebook or texting.  Each time though he still tests the water to see if I’ve come around to the thought of us being together.  He even offered to be a friends with benefits on numerous occasions too, even after I told him that I already had that kind of relationship with Erik, and didn’t need another one.

This weekend while I was in Riverview, I met up with him for a drink.  We barely found anything to chat about, and yet again he offered to “treat me right” and to give me all kinds of delightful pleasure.  Dude, I know it’s been awhile since I’ve been laid, but I am not going to sleep with you. Period.  It’s good to know that I am not the only one who has a hard time moving on.

*Sigh* So I’m back at work, back in Lakeview, back to wondering if I’m ever going to love this place like I loved Riverview.  There is a chance I will, I mean football season starts in a couple of weeks, and seeing as though my favourite team is based out of Lakeview and this city is obsessed with our team, this season is going to be especially exciting for me.  The possibility of seeing my favourite players out and about just doing their thing is almost enough to keep me here forever.  Almost. And again, if I find a boyfriend here, that would definitely make it easier to stick around.  So we’ll see.  I’ve only been here for 6 months.  It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t give the city time to grow on me.

Plus, maybe I could kill two birds with one stone, and start dating my favourite football player.  Now, all I need is his address and some binoculars….

See you next week! (Possibly from behind bars.  🙂 )


You Are All Cordially Invited to my Pity Party

Well it’s two weeks before my 28th birthday, so now is as good a time as any to hit the panic button in my life, and have my annual nervous breakdown about my life.

It happens every year around my birthday like clockwork.  I think it was sometime around my 25th when I really stopped and did a mental inventory of my life to see where I was, and where I thought I would be.  After really thinking about it, panic set in, because I was far from being the person I wanted to be. 3 years later, not much has changed.

This year, I can already tell things are going to be worse.  I look around at my friends and family and constantly compare myself to them.  Some would say it’s stupid and fruitless, but everybody does it, so it’s not like I am the only one checking Facebook and Instagram and thinking, “Fuck them for being happy.”  If you say I am the only one, fuck you, you’re a liar.

This is the only time when I think that having a large family like the one I have is a negative thing.  There are far too many people that I constantly compare myself to. This past week my 32 year old cousin announced that he and his girlfriend are expecting a baby.  Great news for the family, it’s the first grandchild for any of our dads or uncles to have.  It’s a bit of a big deal.  Another one of my cousins is in a band that has a record deal, and moderate success in his city.  Lucy works in a job she really loves, and at 22 years old, just bought her first home. Bridgette is in university right now, and will be a nurse in a year and a half, and when she does that, she will be making double my wage right out the gate at 21 years old. We have the 17 year old cousin who has already seen half the world, the 27 year old cousin who has practically seen the whole world, and the 31 year old cousin who has been living in China for 2 years to teach English.

And me?  Well, I’m single and childless, and have been dating this province’s biggest selection of losers for the better part of a decade. I am working in a job I’m pretty sure is temporary, yet I have no idea what I’d do next.  I rent, not own a home because I would never be qualified for a mortgage on the wage I have in my chosen field (at least not until I am done paying off the student loans I got for going to school in order to make my tiny wage) I have never actually followed through on any goal I’ve ever set for myself (which is either based on fear of succeeding or fear of failure, I’m not sure which).  I’m still not sure if moving here from Riverview was a good idea or a horrible failure (I’m leaning toward failure. I never thought leaving Riverview would be so hard.  I didn’t think I would miss it as much as I do) And last but not least, the thing that I am most proud of is this blog, which on a good week only gets about 50 views, mostly from my close friends, and 3 of my cousins.

So.   Where does that leave me?  It leaves me with needing to look at what I do have. So in the spirit of my new positive attitude, I have made a list of all the things I got going for me as I age another year, and enter my very late 20’s. *cringe*

I do have a great family, even if they all are doing more with their lives than I am, and I’m filled with jealous rage towards them.  I love them.  They are an amazing group of people, and I am lucky to have them in my life.  Plus, being an auntie is sometimes way better anyways.  I get to have fun with them, and then send them back to their parents when they are being little assholes.

I have some awesome friends.  Over the last few years, I have been able to really see the 4 or 5 friends who I know will be there for me come hell or high water, and will stick around regardless of how long we go without seeing each other, or even talking. I know that when we do see each other and catch up, it will be as if no time has passed. Annie, Trey, Ayla and Molly, I’m looking at you!

I have a roof over my head.  Sure, it isn’t my house, but it’s also not my responsibility!  Plus, living with Lucy has been fun, so if I can’t live in my own home, this is definitely the next best option, and it sure as hell beats living in my mother’s basement. Plus, I don’t have a biological sister, so now it kinda feels like I do a little bit. I like that.

I have a job I like.  Some days I love it.  Other days I hate it.  Most days I am indifferent to it.  But it pays the bills, and for now until I figure out what else I’d like to do with my life, it is as good a job as any to be at.  At least it’s fun. And at least I have some good co-workers, which always makes or breaks a job.

Yes, I’m single and childless.  But what that means is that I haven’t settled for one of the guys I’ve dated over the years, who wasn’t right for me.  And by not settling, I also haven’t had a baby with a man I don’t want to be with.  Plus, I work with kids all day long, so it’s kind of nice to be able to get in all the good kid stuff all day, and then go back to my awesome single, childless ways in the evenings and weekends.  I get to go where I want, when I want, with whomever I want.  There is a wonderful freedom to that that I often take for granted.  Life can change fast.  By this time next year I could be a mom (not likely, but all you need is one condom to break, and BAM, knocked the fuck up), or be in a serious relationship (I’d put my money on pregnant before girlfriend, but whatever) that would alter the way my life works now.  I’m so concerned with the future that I forget to be thankful for the present.

I have this blog. I may only get 50 views or so a week, but doing the math in my head, it’s literally about 43 more views than I should be getting, as there are only 7 or 8 people in my actual life that know about this blog, and even they are not the most loyal readers.  I am writing every week, and people are reading it and liking it every week, which is more than I was expecting when I started writing this all those months ago.  Plus, by writing, regardless of how many people read this, it has helped me get through some of the worst dating stories of my life (FWB for instance),  and has offered me support in a way I never knew I needed.  Also, speaking of my writing, this blog has made my writing slightly better, and I am doing more of it outside this blog as well.  I am about 8 chapters into the novel I am attempting to write, and if I really get my ass in gear, it could be finished by 2014.  Go me. Sure, it’ll most likely never get published, and I might be the only one to ever read those pages, but finishing a complete novel whether it’s any good or not is an incredible feat for me.  It would be the biggest goal I’d ever have accomplished. And this blog has a lot to do with it.

I’m also glad to have dated all those losers over the last decade as well.  Without them, I wouldn’t have constant material to write about.  Sure, I wouldn’t have so many trust issues, I wouldn’t be as cynical about love, and I would have spent a lot more nights doing crap I didn’t want to do if they weren’t around, but I also wouldn’t have this blog.  And I have to believe that because I know what guys I don’t want, that when the right guy comes along I am going to know it.  By the way, now is the perfect place to mention that I did get an apology from last week’s douchebag DB (which is short for douchebag) He messaged me on the dating site and just simply wrote “Sorry”.  When I didn’t message back, he wrote another message that just said “Very sorry” So, after this, I decided that it was my turn to speak my mind, so I messaged back and said, “You should be sorry.  You were an asshole, and I didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

I haven’t heard from him again, so I’m going to throw that one into the win pile.  Stupid men being all stupid and shit.

So, in two weeks I turn 28.  There are a lot of things I haven’t done yet. But there’s a lot that I have done.  And, compared to when I was 25, a lot of people I’ve done since then too.  So, it’s not all bad news.

Happy almost birthday to me.


Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag

Right now would be a perfect time to be off sitting on a beach with a fruity beverage in my hand. Not just because of the weather we are getting here right now, but I am in need of an escape.

Exactly one year ago today, I was chilling on a beach in the Dominican doing just that. The difference between then and now is that a year ago, I was sitting there happily day dreaming of memories of hooking up with Erik for the first time, and was enjoying the attentions of all the hot black men on the island.

This year however, I want to escape the sting of ending the 12 month FWB whatever the fuck it was with Erik, and avoiding any attention from men here who want to date me. Sitting on the beach with earbuds in my ears and a book in my lap would be great medicine for this.

Unfortunately, my bank account has far too few digits to support my need for an escape, so I must deal with my life like a mature adult (or by pretending to be one at the very least).

Things have actually been alright with me. I decided to get Erik as far out of my mind as possible. I changed his name in my phone, and unsubscribed from his Facebook page, so he doesn’t show up on my news feed. Although, that hasn’t stopped me from checking his page anyways, but at least I don’t see postings every few hours of every day. I also resist the urge to even look down his street when I am heading to or from Annie and Trey’s house. So at least I am trying to put him out of my mind and get better.

But my biggest mistake was thinking I was ok to date. My thought was that since we weren’t actually in a relationship, it wasn’t like we had broken up. So really, it’s not like I needed all this time to get over him and be “ready” to move on – I just was. What I actually “was” was wrong. I needed more time.

It took one awesome pervert and one sweetheart on Valentine’s Day to make me realize that.

Last weekend I met two new guys, the first on Saturday night and the second was on Sunday afternoon.  Compared to our texts prior to meeting, me and the second guy, Soccer Boy, didn’t hit it off at all. The meet-up was a complete dud. So afterwards, we decided to “just be friends”. Well, I decided that. He wanted to become my fuck buddy because while he said that he didn’t think we hit it off enough to date, he thought I was beautiful and sexy and still would like to sleep with me if given the chance. And to be honest, I gave it some serious consideration. Why? Well because he wasn’t a bad guy, he was really cute, I figured since he was in his early 30’s there was a better chance that he might know what he was doing in the sack, and it has been almost 2 months since I got laid, so yeah I was very close to doing him. Luckily, I thought about it for more than two minutes, and decided that wouldn’t be a good idea.  So no, he won’t be getting in my pants anytime soon, although we are still talking, and he mentioned us meeting again, giving ourselves a do-over.  And this is even though he knows full well that I have taken sex and dating him off the table.  So who knows, maybe I could actually be friends with the guy?  I guess only time will tell.

Then of course there was Troy, who I met the night before. He is a ridiculously nice guy. He’s smart, cute, and honest. We hit it off really fast, so a few days later when he asked if I wanted to do something on Valentine’s Day, I was thrilled. Mostly because in all the years I’ve been dating, I’ve never had a date on Valentine’s Day, ever. But also because he was a cool guy, and he seemed to like me, so I thought that this would be good.

When Valentine’s Day rolled around, I woke up actually excited for it.  I finally had a date on this otherwise horrible fucking day!  I had a terrible day at work, but I didn’t even care!  I had a date on Valentine’s Day!  So I went over to Troy’s house after work, prepared to be swept off my damn feet.  And then he opened the door, I walked in, and before we even made it to the kitchen, something in my soul was saying to me, “this does not feel right”.

I tried to shut it up, saying that I need to give it time, but throughout the whole night, eating the less than desirable meal he made for us, awkwardly cuddling on his couch during the movie, hoping that he wouldn’t decide to kiss me, and then hoping he would stop kissing me after he did, I kept thinking how none of this felt right.  I didn’t want to be there. With him.

After I left, I was pissed at myself.  “How can you like a guy one minute and then a few days later, you feel nothing for the same person?  I mean, why can’t you ever be happy Olivia?  Seriously, you found the nicest guy ever, who seems to really like you; who told you he stopped talking to another girl he was interested in so that he could focus all his energy on seeing where things would go with you, and you decide all of a sudden that you aren’t attracted to him?  WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

But then, a couple days passed.  And with every text I got from Troy, I cringed because I didn’t really want to talk to him anymore.  I didn’t want to make dates with him, and I cancelled the plans we had for this past Saturday.  When he confronted me via text about whether or not I wanted to still date him, I was fully prepared to let him down gently with some apologetic answer as to why I didn’t want to date him. This is what I wrote:

“I have been thinking a lot about everything these last few days, and the more I think about it, the more I feel that I might not be ready to date anyone right now at all.  I felt the same way with the other guy I met recently.  Good guy and all, but my heart just isn’t in it.  I feel more like I am just dating to prove to myself that I’m doing ok, but I don’t think I actually am.”

I hit send before I realized that I was telling him the honest truth, as opposed to the halfhearted cliché I thought I had prepared for him. It took a minute for my words to sink into my own brain.  But when they did, I knew what I had to do.  So I opened up my web browser, typed in the address for the dating site I am on, logged in and promptly deleted my account.

I’ve deleted my account so many times, it’s almost a joke of me saying that I am “taking a break” from dating.  I’ve said it more than 2 or 3 times on this blog alone.  But I think I really need to just be alone for a while.  I need to figure my shit out. Because let’s face it, I’m a fucking mess right now.  Plus, the pickings are slim here anyways, so maybe in time I will have more guys to choose from when the time is right.

Until then, I will sit here in my basement in my pajamas, pretending to be sitting on a beach chair, basking in the hot Dominican sunshine.

Wallowing in the sweet paradise in my mind, (or some shit like that)



What Doesn’t Kill You Only Makes You Stronger…Right?

I’ve never been the type of girl who after a really good first date, I would come home and tell my best friend, or roommates, or call my parents to tell them I had met the person I would marry. I’ve never been that optimistic. Sure, there have been a few times where I’ve thought that this guy was maybe going to turn into a relationship (Shamus, Dave #4 and of course FWB come to mind) but it is not in my nature to believe that I will have that stupid happily ever after shit I eat right up in the movies I watch, and the TV show I PVR on a weekly basis.

I will most likely be the girl who will literally be standing in a white gown, in front of a justice of the peace, all my close family and friends, saying vows out loud to my fiancé while my brain is rambling on how “I’m not sure he’s the one. What if he doesn’t like me? Do you think he’s actually in love? Will he leave us on the honeymoon for someone who can fit into a bikini?”

Why? Two reasons really: the first being that I am so god damned pessimistic and down on myself, that I don’t believe there will ever be someone out there who I will fall in love with. The operative word here being with. I’ve been in love by myself plenty, and have had guys love me without my reciprocation. It’s falling with someone that has never happened.

The second is that even though my instincts are completely trust worthy, I doubt them. Again and again. I did it with Dave. I went out with him for months longer than I should have, even though deep down I knew that he was treating me like shit. Same thing in the short term dating. I never should have given Hardwood Floors a second date. I knew things were off with him, but ignored my gut, and ended up wasting a perfectly good evening, AND losing my favourite cardigan (I am seriously bummed about this guys, you have no idea…I went to see if I could buy another, and they don’t have it anymore. I can’t replace it.) Even with work. Early last year I stayed at a job I knew I was unhappy at, and I knew it was becoming a toxic situation. Instead of listening to the voice that was telling me to get out, I stuck around, and got hit with the shit stick before management forced me out.

So it’s no surprise really, that the FWB situation went down as I expected it would. For all of you who kept telling me to be positive, I present you with my case. My intuition is so spot on, it’s scary.

*Side note: I am writing this on Friday night, and will not be posting till Wednesday. I need to write when it’s fresh, and present in my mind. I am hoping that by the time Wednesday rolls around I will be feeling a bit better about everything.

If you have been reading this blog for even a couple weeks, you know that this past year, the main character in my love life has been FWB. We’ve been through a confusing amount of nonsense, and in the last year, it is absolutely no secret that I have developed strong feelings for him. It’s almost safe to say that I have been in love with him for the better part of a year. And it’s also no secret that I haven’t been able to tell him that I’ve had feeling for him. Till tonight.

After last week’s entry, the more I thought about it, the more it bugged me that I didn’t know how he felt about me. So I finally told him how I feel. In e-mail of course, because I’m still me, and that’s what I do. Plus, in my defense, I wasn’t sure when I’d see him again, so I had no choice. It was either e-mail, text or Facebook, and out of the three, e-mail seemed the safest.

This is what I messaged him:

This is something I should be telling you in person, but I wasn’t sure when that would be, so screw common decency, I’m e-mailing it.

I have feelings for you. And not just in the pants feelings for you, but actual in the heart feelings for you. I have had these feelings for you for a while now. I have never said this to you because I was pretty sure you didn’t feel the same way about me and figured this information was moot.

I am still rather certain that this information is moot, and that the only thing I’ve done here is successfully made things awkward between us. I also have no clue if you are even seeing someone else at the moment, or are interested in someone else, so it’s possible I am making an even bigger ass of myself than I currently realize, but this has been bugging me, so pride be damned.

I’m not expecting a response, or reciprocation, I just needed to get that off my chest and tell you how I feel.

So there it is.

I thought that it was clear, to the point, was kinda funny, but lighthearted so as to not convey that I was lurking in the bushes outside his house at night. My heart was beating out of my chest as I pushed send. Then I played the waiting game. I watched a movie and texted Lucy to take my mind off things. And it worked. I half thought that I wouldn’t hear from him at all. The other half of me knew, just fucking knew what his response would be. When my phone beeped at me that I had a new e-mail about an hour later, I literally almost pissed myself. I simultaneously felt like having to pee and throw up. My heart was up in my ears when I finally opened up the e-mail icon on my phone, silently praying that it was junk mail from someone wanting to enlarge my nonexistent penis.

No such luck. It was FWB’s response. I am literally copy and pasting it here.

Hi Olivia,

I sadly don’t have time for a really in-depth reply that your email really deserves, but I know it sucks to leave something like that just out there waiting for a reply, so I thought I’d at least let you know I got the email. I didn’t realize you had feelings of that sort for me.

I am flattered and gratified, and I think you are awesome and deserve to be happy, but I don’t share those sorts of feelings for you. I have in fact been seeing someone else for a little while now, though I don’t know if I’d call that serious either.

Don’t feel bad though – it took a lot of guts to admit that, and I don’t feel awkwardness at all about it. In fact, knowing this makes me feel bad if I’ve in any way strung you along. I guess it’s my nature to assume people are on the same page as me even though they rarely are.

Anyway, things needn’t be awkward. I do hope we can still be friends, and we do still have to have that coffee some time.

Just didn’t want to leave you hanging, not knowing. I will talk to you soon I hope.


Can I ask you people something? How is it possible to be crushed by something you not only were anticipating, and bracing yourself for, but totally predicted down to the word. Seriously, I could have written this e-mail response out myself, because all along, this is exactly what I have been telling everybody was the case. Of course, I always hoped that I would be wrong, and that he was really in love with me, but I knew deep down inside that he was just one more of those guys that I was going to be in a one-sided love affair with.

All I can think right now is that the silver lining is clear – I can move on now. I can go on dates without comparing new guys to FWB. Although, right before I e-mailed FWB, I deleted my POF account. So now is as good a time as any to take some time off dating. Unless those two guys I am still talking to pan out at all. The other good part of this whole thing is that now I am forced to write about something else on here. I apologize in advance if that doesn’t leave me with much to write about from now on. Although, with Valentine’s Day coming up, you can be damn sure there will be a ridiculously potty mouthed, cynical, bitchy entry that week for your viewing pleasure. Something to look forward to.

They say what doesn’t kill you will make you stronger. I hope they are right.


Elevators, Fake Names and Facebook, Part Two

The combination of this blog, and Facebook ironically enough are to blame for the second part of the story I started last week.  One night early last week, just out of curiosity, I put it out to my friends and family on Facebook, to see what their alter ego names would be, pretty much so that I would know what to call them on this blog if they ever popped up in a story for some reason.  By the way, in case you were wondering, out of the 8 or 9 people who commented, only 3 of them are people who I would actually ever mention in this blog.  My best friend in Riverview, Ayla, my best friend here in Lakeview, Annie (who also took it upon herself to name her husband Trey – I don’t know how he feels about it, but the name is sticking) and FWB.

Yup.  Not only did he respond to my status about 30 seconds after I posted the status, he was the first one.  He wants to be called Erik.  My cousin Lucy texted me immediately when she saw this, and said my words exactly when she texted something along the lines of, “Well sure.  We’ve only been calling you FWB for the last 6 months, but yeah, let’s start calling you Erik…”

Then, because shit wasn’t ridiculous enough, a couple minutes after he commented on my status, FWB/Erik sent me a private message into my Facebook inbox. The conversation started innocently enough, he said he was sorry for taking so long to arrange the coffee date we had talked about in December, he’s super busy, and he hopes I understand, and that life has been going well.  I replied that life has been alright, not terribly exciting, but it’s been ok.

This conversation stayed on the small talk course for a few minutes. Nothing out of the ordinary.  But as has been happening this entire year with all things concerning my life, when I least expect it, I get thrown this curve ball, that comes out of nowhere, and knocks me clear on my ass.

“How’s the dating scene treating ya?”  I see all of a sudden in the Facebook chat window that’s open on my computer screen. What the fuck?  How did he know? I sat in front of my computer for a full two or three minutes just staring at the screen wondering how he knew.  Let me be perfectly clear: I do not air this shit out on my Facebook.  I never ever talk about going on dates, or meeting new guys.  I post statuses about twice a week, sometimes more, sometimes not at all.  Usually it’s when I have something funny to say.  Facebook is not my therapist.  That’s what this blog is for.  So my mind was racing at how he knew about my dating life.  Did he see me out with one of the guys I dated? Does he happen to know one of them? I mean, Lakeview is not a huge city, so it’s not crazy to assume that he could possible know somebody I’ve gone out with. As it is, he went to university with Dave #1 about a year after we broke up.  I’m not even sure he knows this fact.  To my absolute horror, the thought dawned on me that maybe he somehow stumble upon this blog, and through his great deductive skills, come to the realization that all these stories about the infamous FWB are actually about me and him?!?  Yes, the last one seems like the most unlikely of the options, but in that moment, with that one little question from him, I panicked.

So instead of lying, I figured why bother?  I mean, he isn’t my boyfriend, he’s never come right out and asked me to be his girlfriend, and I’ve never had the balls to ask him to be my boyfriend, so why lie to him?  Plus, a part of me was hoping that he cared that I was dating.  Maybe, just maybe, even if he didn’t show it, the thought of my dating someone else bothered him and made him jealous.

So I replied, “I. Hate. Dating. How did you know I was dating?”  Because, I really do hate dating, and I was really curious to know how he figured that out.

“Well I didn’t, I just assumed. I would be. And you’re right, it’s pretty slim pickins out there. I can’t speak for the whole of Lakeview, but what I do see of it is awful.” He answered, as I calmed down a bit.  He just figured I was.  Damnit anyways, I could have totally lied, and he never would have known!  And what did he mean when he said, “I would be.”? Would you be dating if you weren’t already seeing somebody?  Would you be dating if you weren’t so busy all the time, or if you weren’t secretly in love with the girl who you were currently talking to?  WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

“Well look at you assuming correctly. And yeah, it’s crap everywhere. Perhaps I should just invest in a good bathrobe, some cats, and start watching soap operas.” I said, trying to sound as casual as I could.

Then, he threw another curve ball.  “And practice screaming in tongues and throwing aforementioned cats? Well, that would deprive the Lakeview dating scene of one of its scarce, viable members.”

Wait…what?  You are telling me that I am a scarce and viable member of the dating world?  You mean to tell me that after all that has been going on this year, that I am actually somebody decent in the dating world, and that if I’m no longer dating that’s one less awesome chick out there to date and possibly fall in love with? I’m not single because of ME being a bad dater?!  WHAT?

Now, this is the part of the story, when recounting it to Annie and Trey, where they yelled at me, quite loudly by the way, because they felt that instead of telling him what I did tell him, that I should have told him that maybe HE should take this scarce, viable member off the dating scene, but I said this instead: “Would you mind throwing that up on a billboard or something? Cause that is information that hasn’t gotten around like I would like it to.”

Why was I trying to be funny? Why was I trying to be cool, and STILL not tell him how I feel?  I mean, we were chatting on Facebook for fuck’s sake, and HE GAVE ME THE PERFECT OPENING.  What more did I need?  What the hell did I have to lose just then?  Annie and Trey had every right to yell at me for this.  I was being a total coward.

His solution to the billboard: Add him as a reference, and if anybody has doubts, he will set them straight.

Seriously, was that my in?  Was that his subtle way at telling me how he feels? Or was he just being nice?  Was he trying his hardest to see how I felt about him, and all I could do was talk about the dating I was doing? What is wrong with me? Why have I not been diagnosed yet? Men, I need clarification here, so for the love of god, if you can comment or tweet me, and give your verdict, I would greatly appreciate it.  Cause fuck do I need help here.

So sigh.  I realize you are all probably sick to death about reading the same blog over and over about me trying to figure out what’s going on with FWB.  At the rate I’m going, I will be 90 years old, half dead but still writing in this blog every week about how I should probably have the talk with FWB soon…you know, before he kicks the bucket.

In the meantime, I will just keep meeting these other guys, more of an insurance policy for if or when shit hits the fan with FWB, and let’s face it, to get some new fucking material for this blog.

Seriously, I don’t know what my problem is, but I bet it’s hard to pronounce.