Use Your Words

The Canadian and I texted back and forth while he traveled the country and we finally booked our date for weeks in the future. I appreciate a man who plans like that.

In the meantime, I maintained a secret relationship. Yep, you can have those in your 30’s. I met a guy through mutual friends before Christmas and ended up taking him to a friend’s holiday party. The theme was “festive” and he gainfully obliged arriving in a full santa hat/mask combo. I appreciated the enthusiasm. He fell into step with the party crowd and even shared tasteless jokes with my friend’s husband. Alright, this guy might have potential. We stayed out (too) late into the night, which turned into the morning. In our hungover state, I asked a million questions and was surprised by the candidness in his answers. I had already put him in the undateable category (hence a sleepover), but thought that maybe I should reconsider.

As the holidays passed, we kept in touch and I was looking forward to seeing him again when I returned. So I did. I saw a lot of him. That said, we never actually went on a date. Being deep in hermit mode, I was quite content with my Netflix and chill relationship. I still didn’t consider him dateable because I didn’t feel intellectually matched and would get easily turned off when he asked me what a word meant. Even as I write this, I know the old adage that opposites attract, but I couldn’t get past a lot of it. I’m also at a point in life where I won't waste my time dating someone I wouldn’t marry so I was at a standstill.

This non-relationship was, however, quite comforting in that I didn’t have to put on pants and could be my genuine self without a care about trying to impress him. I started to get used to having someone around and that was really nice. I also got to share meals and cook for someone which brought out all my suppressed domestic tendencies. I realized that I wasn’t going on other dates because I liked spending time with this guy who I liked more than I admitted. That said, I never felt pressured to have a “what are we” talk and was ok with that.

Though this went on for some time (great timing in the winter), I couldn’t overcome the cultural or educational differences. I know the infamous checklist shouldn’t haunt me as such, but how could I build a life with someone who has never heard of leeks??

Yes, he was sweet. Yes, he was nice to me. He was also a communication toddler. Use. Your. Words. He would get frustrated at the smallest of things and instead of talking about it, would storm home in a huff. He couldn’t plan farther than a day in advance which wore at my planner propensities. (Canadian? 3 weeks in advance.) He was a terrible texter and the fact that he never asked me out really started to bug me. You should WANT to take me out! I even told him (in my direct fashion) that I would like him to plan to see me and he quipped that making plans stressed him out.  That’s not a thing.

I read some buzzfeed/huffington post/facebook post something along the line of “you’re an option, not a priority” and all the signs were there. Motherf*cker. I’m an option to someone I don’t even want to date?? The more I thought about it, the more aggravated I got. I thought I was better than this. And I am. I stopped responding to texts in a timely fashion. I maintained a laissez-faire attitude about the whole thing and then he started picking up his game. Do guys have a sixth sense for this shit?

He even went so far as to make plans for Valentine’s weekend in advance. I was already moving on, but decided it’d be better than spending it marathoning romantic comedies. He cooked. I judged. I was over it. I wish I could pinpoint what exactly he did wrong, but sometimes you just stop feeling it.

Now let me call Drake so he can see his hotling bling. 

You Only Live Once, That's the Motto

First off, sincerest apologies to all my friends who have bugged me to update this blog. I have been a bit of hermit the last month or so and realized that you actually have to leave your house to date.

That said, my match account has been lagging and I’ve terribly ghosted on several date planning texts simply because I didn’t want to put on pants. The struggle is real.

Thankfully, my first date of the new year was brunch which prevented me from having the I’m-taking-a-month-off-from-drinking discussion day one. Apparently, guys will judge you for things like that. My date arrived early and snagged two open seats, which I appreciated in my ravenous state. He was well dressed and rocked a sleek hoodie with blazer combo that few men can actually pull off. Aside from his outfit, he was also better looking than his pictures and I felt none of the first date uncomfortableness.  

I’m a girl who enjoys a substantial meal so I was tempted to judge him based on his order (egg white omelette) seeing as I got the steak and eggs, even the food runner got them mixed up. Yes, I eat like a grown man. That aside, I found out he works out as often as I do (plus) even though his workouts don’t compete on the crossfit scale (what does?). We talked about our interests and I discovered that we not only shared a love of travel, but we actually shared the same professional field; I refrained from talking about work. I found out that he had also been to my future travel destination so I pressed him for suggestions.

I continued to assess the situation thinking that maybe he was giving off a bit of a gay vibe until I found out where he was from. Canada. Oh, you aren’t gay! You’re Canadian! Made total sense. Actually, I was really happy to find out that he not only wasn’t he gay, but he wasn’t American which makes my odd checklist. That also explained his penchant for international travel. I also learned that he hailed from Toronto so I was basically on a date with Drake (yes, both are black).

Our date lasted through a bulletproof coffee, 2 cups of tea, and countless glasses of water, which in drinks date terms would amount to 3? I took this as a sign of a good date. I thought Drake was as easy to talk to as he was on the eyes and we parted with the expectation of a date to follow. That brunch didn’t suck.