People, you will not BELIEVE who emailed me yesterday.

The Firefighter.

New to the WaterCooler? Want to re-live my night of horror? Go back and (re-)read that post. I’ll wait. Finished? Let’s carry on then.

The email was very brief:

Subject: Long Time…
Body: Haven’t talked to you in months. What’s new?

Hmm…. let’s see… what’s been going on with me in the past nine months….

I swore off online dating.
Booked a trip to Grand Cayman.
Was introduced by friends to the man o’ my dreams.
Went on aforementioned trip.
Returned to aforementioned man, with whom I’ve been pretty inseperable ever since.
Went to Korea with the man in May.
Moved in with the man (thus excising myself from the ‘burbs to Kitsilano) in July.
Was recruited and moved to a new job in August.

Oh, and bought a condo in Kits as well, though it won’t be finished until next summer.

I relayed that information in my response, followed up by a “what’s new with you?”

I have yet to receive a reply.

Pity, I was a teensy bit curious.

Darren posted recently requesting suggestions for first dates in Vancouver. Being that I went on a LOT of them until recently, I figured I should weigh in.

How does a guy (or gal) make sure his (or her) first date passes muster, especially where Ridiculously High Standards are concerned? Follow these RHS Approved Dos and Don’ts:

DO: Invite your date out for a meal of some sort. The great thing about meal-as-date is that the end of the eating (esp. if the date isn’t going super well) is a great “end point” to the encounter. It’s a natural point where one could feel no guilt about thanking the other for a lovely time, but I really MUST be going and I’ll call you…

DON’T: Try somewhere totally unfamiliar to both of you if such things make you nervous.

DO: Do your research, read some reviews of the venue, can you afford it? Figure out what you might want (or want to avoid) on the menu, and evaluate the dress code so you aren’t the only one in Jeans or the only one in Couture.

DON’T: Forget your wallet. You should always carry enough cash to cover at least your half of the bill, as well as incidental extras, parking, and a cab home should it be necessary. Do NOT stop at the cash machine during a date. It’s tacky, and makes you look unprepared (which you are).

DO: plan the “short date” and the “extended version.” If you are having a terrible time, there is NOTHING worse than not having an escape route. If the date isn’t like most of those I had, however, then you’ll be thankful to have an option or two planned and available to continue your time together. If the weather’s cooperating (or even if it isn’t) take a walk around a local park, along the beach, or even around a local campus. Bad weather? Visit a museum, gallery, or just suggest another venue for some apres meal dessert, drinks or coffee.

DON’T: Plan “wardrobe incompatible” activities. This one is for the clueless guys to consider, and mostly pertains to shoes. If you tell your date you’re going dancing, and she should dress as such, she’ll probably wear some sultry, sexy shoes she can spin in - and which will also make her want to chop off her feet at the ankles at the end of the night. Suggesting a muddy walk along a gravel trail while she’s wearing these isn’t the best idea.

DO: Throw in a test or two to gauge your date’s reaction. Yes I know nobody wants to “play games” - but that’s really what dates are for. To fill in the blank in your ___ ever after. Decide what’s an important trait for your mate to exhibit, and see if it comes out when you put him or her on the spot.

Ladies: Walk up to a door (establishment, vehicle, whatever) and just stop. See if he opens it for you. Let the bill linger on the table to see if he picks it up right away or hesitates. Heck - visit the restroom (even if only to touch up your lipstick) and see if he takes care of things while you’re gone (extra double-plus-good points for those ones!). Will he help you with your jacket? Up stairs? Off a curb? Into and out of the car? If you let your hand linger on the table, will he reach across to caress it?

Gentlemen: Does she reach for her handbag or otherwise indicate or offer to pick all or part of the cheque? Does she laugh at the unfunniest joke you can muster up - even if she’s just laughing at your unfunniness? Does she continually scan the room, or keep her attention on you, even when you start talking about things you KNOW she’s not interested in? And will she agree to that muddy walk around the lake in her uncomfortable designer heels? If she goes for that one, you KNOW she’s into you - and heck, you can always offer to piggyback her around the big puddles.

NOTE: ETIQUETTE POINT! The asker does the paying. Ladies, if you invite a genetleman out for dinner, the bill’s on you. It’s the classy thing to do. Guys, same goes for you, though this is not an invitation to stop asking women out. If either one of you is expecting to go Dutch, accept your date’s offer to cover his/her half of the bill. However, if s/he is ungracious enough to not even offer, don’t ask. Be classy, cover the bill, and trash talk them to your friends later.

As for local first date ideas - with the above considerations in mind, here are my suggestions for venues/activities:

Fooding: Almost anything goes, taking the following into account: First dates are awkward enough without navigating crowded tables, yelling over the music or other “ambient” noise, waiting hours in line at a place that doesn’t take reservations (have one!) or dealing with mediocre service. Some of my favourite places to eat (on dates or otherwise) include: Chambar, Cru, Gotham, Cin Cin, Tojos, Carderos and Joe Fortes. If you’re out to impress a non-foodie (since the food is good, but overpriced for what you get) with a spectacular sunset, try one of the revolving restaurants. Also, your Earlstone’s Club establishments tend to work well on dates - only because they’re ubiquitous and predictible.

Activities: The key for these should be that they’re enjoyable, casual, and leave you breathless with eachother - not effort. I’d recommend against a strenuous hike, or anything that challenges a phobia (such as a suspension bridge) unless you know unequivocally that you’re both a) ironman/woman and/or b) fearless. I’d also say that it’s safer to stick within the city. Vancouver offers plenty of stimulation within accessible areas that allow for easy access, stunning scenery, and a quick escape. I’d also avoid malls or shopping (window or otherwise) - best to leave your bad taste and/or bad credit out of a first date. And for the love of Pete - if you’re going to see a movie (horrible date activity as far as I’m concerned), at least see it FIRST so you can talk about it afterward.

A good test of an idea is to ask yourself: “Should the worst-case scenario (broken ankle on a hike, whatever) actually play out AND we discover that we hate eachother - would I want to shoot my date or myself first?” If you can answer that question easily - seek help, you’re a sick individual. But you get what I’m saying. If the first date goes well, there are plenty of other opportunities for more remote and extended adventures together.

Again, some of my favourites: Any of the city beaches, Stanley Park (seawall or other trails), UBC Campus, or for some inside things, the VAG, the Vancouver Museum, the Aquarium, or the UBC Museum of Anthropology.

Ultimately, your job, as the asker of someone (and the favourable responder to the asker of someone) on a first date is to make your date feel comfortable enough that s/he can be her/himself around you, and ultimately have a good time while sussing eachother out. You should ALWAYS walk away from a first date having had a good time, whether or not you think you’d actually get along on a longer-term basis with your date. Keep that particular motive in mind, and you can’t really go wrong.

Finally, make sure you’ve cleaned your pad, changed the sheets, notified the roomies, stocked up on prophylactics, set out a couple wine glasses and put some fresh OJ in the fridge for morning. Because if you can execute a flawless and unforgettable first date, who knows where it might lead.*
(more…)

It’s true, I’m so good at making people comfortable that they’ll say nearly anything - completely forgetting where they are, what they’re doing and who they’re talking to.

Advice: for the first date or two at least, keep on your toes. Try to focus on the date at hand, otherwise you may inadvertently treat your date to some awfully amusing “foot-in-mouth” moments.

And not all dates will take this kind of remark as well as I will:

Slipups such as “Wow, you’ve had quite the adventure dating.” After regaling my dinner companion with tales of my mating misfortune. “I haven’t had any bad dates yet, though I’m sure I’ve definitely got some coming to me.”

Which inevitably leads to the f ollow up “Er.. not that you’re a bad date, I just mean the next person I date… er… unless we have a really good time tonight… uh… I don’t mean *that* kind of good time… um… unless you want to - which is cool too, but totally not expected… I mean… uhm… uh….. “

And to that I say Stop. Put down the Shovel. Stop digging yourself further into that hole, and just walk away.

Though I decided to lay low since the Firefighter fiasco, and have sworn off internet dating, I do have a date tonight. So far the 8-ball points to a good time.

But I was reminded of one of my particular neuroses as I was “date-i-fying” my purse before I left the house this morning. Normally I’m a “spectacles, watch, wallet and keys” kinda person, not really worrying about having much of anything more than those essentials with me for my regular day-to-day.

However, I put a little more thought into the purse just before a date. I’m like a freakin’ boyscout, prepared for nearly any emergency (most of which have happened to me at one point or another):

-Pocket sewing kit to tackle any last-minute button pops or seam rips. Nothing like losing a well-placed button at an inopportune moment.

-Cash-money (which I rarely carry otherwise), including a variety of bill denominations and change for parking meters. Comes in handy not only when dealing with parking, but I also make it a rule to carry enough to cover my half of the bill - because there are guys who will insist on going dutch.

-Extra car key, in case my flustered/distracted self locks the regular key in the car.I’ve done this more times - not necessarily on dates - than I care to admit. And while waiting for BCAA together after a good date can be a fun adventure, doing it with someone you aren’t getting along with ranks just above having your toenails removed with pliers

-Fully charged cell phone for any number of emergencies. Including making a clandestine call to a friend to set up a rescue from any number of unpleasant scenarios, or just calling a cab to go the hell home.

-Four colours of lip stick/gloss. I’m just indecisive, and some look better in certain lighting than others. Also, while sparkly looks great to start off with, I switch to a colour that will be easier for my date to remove from his own lips, should the night go that way.

-Gum, mints, losenges. Nuff said.

-Small vial of perfume. Smelling pretty is just a good idea in general. I tend to get a lot of complients on Clinique Happy Heart, or anything that smells like dessert.

-Makeup/hair touchup stuff. Useful if we end up getting caught in the rain, or getting hot and sweaty.

-A small pharmacy worth of medication, primarily consisting of pain killers and gastrointestinal relief potions. These are mostly a “just in case” scenario, but have quite literally saved my ass a couple times in the past!

Depending on which date it is, and my intentions for the night, I’ll also sometimes add a small arsenal of Elexa products, as well as a toothbrush, and perhaps a cozy sweater, hat and flip flops in the trunk. All part of my plan to never do the walk of shame (again).

I just like to be prepared.

What about you? For the girls and the boys, what are your date-night essentials? Have I forgotten anything that’s saved you in the past, or that you wish you’d had?

Conversation with a friend, as a followup to yesterday’s post (illustrating why I’ll be single for the foreseeable future…).

Friend: A ballroom dancing club is probably a good idea. Lots of guys are there to pick up women.

Self: Yes, and a LOT of women are there to pick up men.

Friend: That’s true, you’d definitely have to work to fight off the competition.

Self: Yah, I don’t do so well with that. I’m much better when I just have to show up and “be fabulous.”

Friend: Oh right, you’re a Leo - the party comes to you.

Self: Damn Straight. And my other problem is the age thing. Guys my age are so hit and miss. Either they’re going to turn out to be awesome and nobody knows it yet, or they’re hopeless. And if they do turn out to be great, someone with more patience than I has already snapped them up.

Friend: Older guys?

Self: Anyone more than a couple years older than me, I’m sifting through the not-so-great catches, it gets to be a “best of the rest” situation, which has been fairly discouraging so far.

Friend: What about younger guys?

Self: Seriously? Younger than 25? Think back to when you were 23-25….

Friend: Hmm… point taken. Oh hey, what about amateur theatre - there’s LOTS of hot, charismatic guys in amateur theatre!

Self: What city are we in again? I’m thinking a lot of the guys in amateur theatre here are batting for the other team.

Friend: Hmm, perhaps - stay away from musicals. But seriously, you could totally luck out and hook up with some struggling actor…

Self: Struggling?…

Friend: He could be on the verge of his big break!

Self: And if he doesn’t get that break? I don’t know that I wanna be with a waiter/failed actor…

Friend: OK NOW YOU’RE JUST GETTING TOO PICKY.

How do people find dates anyway?

Random meetings in the grocery store? When and where do the cute, eligible guys shop? The last guy who said hi to me at my local grocery was pretty skeezy looking and dragging a toddler behind him.

Joining a group? I do yoga. There’s one guy in the class. He’s 40-ish and married.

Work? No. Just no.

Friends? Considering most of my friends are not single, and most of their friends aren’t single either, those pairings have been few and far between.

Bars? That would require I spent any time at them. And quite honestly, when I do, I refuse to up my Ho quotient far enough for any guys to look at me twice, let alone come over and say hi.

That’s left me so far with (dun dun dun…) the Internet.

The problem with online dating though, is that I’m limiting myself to people I have a strictly intellectual connection with.

If someone can’t write well, I’m not likely to want to even bother with them. Had I used that criteria with my ex, we wouldn’t have lasted four minutes, let alone four years. He’s smart and funny, but can’t write or spell worth a damn.

Unfortunately those that I’ve found that I can write back and forth with seem to be neurotic. And not a type of neruotic that’s complementary to my own personal neruoses. The kind of neurotic that’s most comfortable writing online, not because they’re good writers, but because that’s the kind of interpersonal connection they’re most comfortable with. In person, they are socially retarded.

Granted, I’m no Dale Carnegie myself, but I can carry on an intelligent conversation outside the confines of an Instant Messaging window.

So I’m abandoning the online dating, at least for now. I need to meet some real guys with real lives, outside of serial emailing.

And now I’m depending on you, dear reader. How did you meet your significant other? Point me in the direction of the eligible bachelors! I know they’re hiding out there somewhere…

I should’ve known. Agreeing to one more date with Rescue Dork after what happened last time, I was really just asking for disaster.

And so, a list of signs that the universe delivered to me on Wednesday evening to alert me to the fact that the date as a whole was a BAD IDEA.

1. He suggested we head up to Altitudes Bistro on Grouse Mountain for dinner and to catch the Pay Per View hockey game on TV. When we got there he realized (of course he didn’t do any research or planning before hand - and what did I say last time about planning?) that just to get up to the bistro was going to cost a little over $60 for the both of us. So, with his apology for appearing to be a “cheap bastard” that plan was nixed. Holy awkward batman.

2. We drive over to another pub. Sure, they’ve got the game on a big projection screen, but no game sound. Instead they opted for playing some ambient house music. The service was even worse than the tunes, so movin’ on, again. He’s kind enough to remind me when we’re back in the vehicle that I probably think he sucks, and this is shaping up to be a pretty terrible date as well. Thanks. I was trying to block that. But if you want me to hate you, I will.

3. Third pub’s a charm. We get in, perch ourselves on a couple stools, and settle in to watch the rest of the game (by this time we’ve missed most of the first period). Five minutes later he says “oh shit… we were here the other night… I totally forgot about that… oh man!” That’s right buddy. On top of this disastrous date, remind me of the last bad date (and further reveal how inappropriately inebriated you were).

4. He had to take a call from his sister (it happens, no biggie), and 10 minutes later, guess who shows up! Apparently she had asked on the phone where he was, and if he was with friends or on a date. I guess to avoid further grilling, he said he was with friends. The awkward look on her face when she showed up gave it all away.

I’m just glad there was hockey to distract me. And as soon as the game was over, we left the pub, and I was ready to bolt. I politely declined/made excuses to avoid spending any more time together that evening, and swiftly made my way elsewhere on a personal “anywhere but where this guy is” mission.

Lessons learned?

1. If a date is going badly, and your “plans” (and I use that term in the loosest possible sense) don’t work out, just roll with it. If you can be spontaneous and have fun despite the mishaps, things will go much better than if you fall apart and obsess over how badly you think the evening is going.

2. If you have a monumentally bad date, sometimes that is the universe’s way of saying “this one is not for you!” Do not, under any circumstance, attempt to give them a second chance. NO GOOD WILL COME OF IT! LET IT GO!

I have two sets of underwear. There are those pairs that others get to see. And those pairs that others unequivocally do NOT get to see.

I happen to put some thought into the underwear that others do get to see. Heather and Mel can attest to this: they’re darned cute! And it’s already been established that I have an enviable booty.

So nothing bugs me more than when some boy is “goin’ for the goodies” so to speak, and goes for everything on the bottom half in one fell swoop.

Please! Pause for the Panties!

I promise they are pretty, and sexy, and there really is nothing like TAKING YOUR TIME if you’re granted the honour of getting to see the lovely underthings in the first place.

And I lied, there is one thing that bugs me more than that… it’s when after the fact, the boy sees the hotness that covers the booty lying on the floor, and says “damn, those are NICE.” I promise, they are a trillion times nicer when they are STILL ON and it would’ve been even better if you could’ve controlled yourself long enough to notice.

So, girls… do you ever experience “The Wholesale Tearoff” and how do you feel about it when your pretty underthings are neglected?

Boys… do you even care? Because you should. Or at least learn to pretend…

The bad date. Oh my. I honestly can’t think of a much worse one. I hardly know where to start.

I suppose the beginning is a good place. This is long. You may want to grab a snack.

I met a guy. He’s a firefighter. He will henceforth be referred to as RescueDork, since that’s what I seem to end up calling him in conversation.

Our first date, drinks. Unremarkable. I was somewhat surprised when he did call for a second date. We went out for dinner and a movie. Third date, he had me over and made dinner. All in all, things seemed to be going pretty ok.

Fourth date. That fateful night. He invited me out for drinks with a bunch of his work buddies. I figured “what’s the worst that could happen?” Hah. You’re about to find out.

So we’re all sitting around (me being the only “civilian” at the table), and it’s suggested that I recruit some single friends. So I called Jen, who brought Tina out. Turned out none of the guys were actually single, just looking for excuses to ditch their girlfriends. Oops.

Regardless, we drank and were merry, and things were pretty average for hanging around a group of 20-something guys who like to party. At some point, Jen and Tina left, and a few of us moved on to another bar. Much more alcohol was consumed (thankfully not by me), and eventually the group dispersed.

RescueDork was looking a little worse for wear at this point. I made the executive decision that we were leaving. Outside we went, and hailed a cab back to where our cars were waiting.

This is where it all gets very messy. Quite literally.

The cabbie drives us back, and since between the two of us I’m the one with the wherewithal to deal with paying him, I do (with RescueDork’s cash of course). Meanwhile, RescueDork has leapt out of the cab. I’m getting myself out, and he starts shouting at me “DON’T TOUCH THE CAB! DON’T TOUCH THE CAB! I just pissed on it… *gigglefit*”

Oh Lord.

I really should’ve just left him to fend for himself right then and there. I am far too nice.

So I take his keys (no way I’m wasting my own gas) and decide I’m going to take us somewhere he can sleep this off. I suggest his place, which is instantly vetoed, since his ex is on her way over in the morning to pick up some stuff she was storing there. Oy. Baggage. My place it is then.

The 30 minute drive back to my apartment was pretty uneventful. As soon as I parked though, he leapt out as though his pants were on fire. And threw up into the bushes out front. Classy.

At this point I’m still thinking that ok, these moments happen to the best of us. Hopefully it’s all over and he’s just going to pass out. And initially, it seemed like that’s what would happen. I handed him a fresh toothbrush (because whatever happens, I’m still the hostess with the mostest), and he pretty much fell asleep immediately. Shortly thereafter, so did I.

I woke up a few hours later (sometime around 7:00am), and things were eerily quiet. I got up and started looking around - RescueDork, and all traces of his belongings, are gone. And remember, my car is a 30 minute drive (1 hour transit trip) away. MOTHERFUCKER.

Of course I called his cell phone immediately, and heard it ringing in my hallway. He was just on his way stumbling back in, with a large bottle of Gatorade from the gas station down the street.

Apparently, he woke up around 5:30am, still feeling ill, and wanted some air. So he took it upon himself to take off and wander around the neighborhood. Stumbling and puking. Puking and stumbling. At some point he found himself in an industrial area, finally realized that this is how people get mugged or murdered, and made his way back.

But how did he get back in? Did he take my keys or something? No. He just left my apartment door unlocked, and propped the building door open, hoping it’d stay that way until he came back. Thanks, RescueDork!

To recap, the score thus far is: made me somewhat uncomfortable and wasted my friends’ time, urinated on a taxi, threw up in my bushes, made me think I was left stranded, left my apartment and building vulnerable to vandals and ne’er-do-wells.

Oh, but there’s more!

He’s returned with his Gatorade, brushes his teeth again, and crawls into my bed, fully clothed. Ew. Considering he’s been drinking, wandering and throwing up all night? I redirected him to the couch, and hoped for a few more hours of sleep.

Not 10 minutes has gone by, when I hear the living room sliding door open. And then came the sound of someone violently vomiting. Turns out in his head, throwing up in the bathroom of the girl you’re dating is a bad idea. However, yakking over her balcony (aiming for the planter of the neighbor below) at a volume that could only be described as “turned up to eleven” is A-Ok!

This happens no fewer than four times in the hour between 7:00am and 8:00am, at which point I throw on some sweats, and inform him that I’m taking us back to my car. He rambles and babbles the entire ride back. I drive in stony silence.

We get back to my car, and I’ve no sooner thrown his truck into Park, when he jumps out and heaves (yet again) onto the pavement behind the vehicle. I resist the urge to cause him bodily harm, figuring his night has been punishment enough.

I wish I had some witty way to wrap this up, but all I can say is that I gave him his keys, wish him luck getting home at some point, then took myself back home and slept for another few hours.

He called later in the day to see if I wanted to come by and watch a movie that evening - I declined. I’m recalling now that there was no “thanks for taking care of my drunk ass” or “sorry for being a drunken ass” in that conversation either - so much for being a decent person. I should’ve abandoned him in the parking lot and hidden his keys as soon as he sprayed down the taxi.

I swear, if I ever have a date that’s WORSE than that one, I’m either going to shoot myself, or become a nun.

One thing that makes it really easy for me to come up with the Ridiculously High Standards is the fact that while some women make excuses for why they should stay with someone, I am unequalled in my ability to talk myself out of any potential dating/relationship scenario.

I can go from naming babies and building picket fences in my head, to wondering what special kind of crack I was on, thinking that this man was a good idea, in a matter of hours.

It’s a pretty simple process. Obsess about every single detail of the bad date or dates in your mind. Find the top 3 details that make you want to vomit. Focus on them. More. A little more now. Feeling nauseous yet? Keep going. Self-Doubt-and-Loathing set in? PERFECT!

This may take you a little longer at first. You may want to keep making excuses for the idiosyncrasies and keep thinking that it’s just one bad date, or one strange twitch. Don’t give up! In time, and with practice, your skills will improve.

And you’ll know you’ve reached a special level of bitter and jaded, when you start discounting people without even trying to. You’ll realize it when, one day, you’ve written someone off before you’ve even considered the dessert course.

Of course, once I reveal the chaos that was my Friday night, you’ll still wonder what took me so long.

So, we all have these stories, right? That early on “the night everything went horribly wrong” date. The date that either signifies the beginning of the end, or turns into one of those stories that everyone laughs about a few years down the road.

Please tell me everyone has those stories!

Because (another) one of those stories happened to me on Friday night.

It was our fourth date, and oh boy did it turn into a doozie.

The problem with me is, nearly everyone gets a second chance. You can do something really stupid on a date with me, and if I think you’re generally OK and pretty attractive, I’ll let you get away with it, as long as it doesn’t happen again.

Since I haven’t seen him since Friday night, I don’t yet know if that date was the death knell, or the “there is nothing embarrassing left to happen” moment. Kinda like the first time you fart in front of your new mate. Except, worse. And no, I was not the one behaving badly.

As much as I’d love to spill the details, I have no idea whether to frame this in a “funny, ha ha” way or a “funny, I’M GOING TO BE ALONE FOREVER” way.

Once I know whether or not he’s going to suitably impress me and turn things around, I’ll let the story loose.

Until then, how about you comment, and entertain me (and everyone else) with those “funny, ha ha” early relationship stories I’m sincerely hoping we all have…

It’s time to bring a bit of the ridiculousness back into the Ridiculously High Standards methinks.

So this time, I say that I really enjoy dating men who have good jobs. What entails “good” though? I’m glad you asked! It means their job title and description are rife with things that can sound very dirty even though they aren’t, thus enabling me to gossip euphemistically (is that even a word? it is now!) about them with my girlfriends.

For example:

Lawyer: Did he go over your briefs in great detail?

Plumber: Did he clean your pipes?

Mechanic: Did he lube the engine? Pistons firing in perfect rhythm?

Police Officer: Did he handcuff you? Give you the pat-down?

Computer Nerd of any persuasion: Did he double click your mouse? How does he handle his joystick?

But I must say, my absolute favourite is the heroic fire fighter. I’ve recently gone on a few dates with one, and here are a few phrases that have come up:

How’s his fire hose?

Did he put out your 3-alarm blaze?

How long is the ladder, and how long does the ladder stay up?

Did he do you like the firehall dalmation?

Did he have you wailing like a siren?

And, my personal favourite…

Did he rescue your kitten?

What can I say. My friends are dirty, dirty birds. Anyone wanna take a shot at outdoing them - on the firefighter, or anything else? Comment with your own creative occupational hazard…

Remember the Drop Off phenomenon from a little while ago? I’ve recently solved two more drop off mysteries.

Let this be a lesson to you, men! If you adopt the “drop off” method, odds seem to be that you’ll eventually be found out, and instead of looking like a socially-retarded dork, you’ll come off as a complete asshole. Read on for examples… (more…)

A few friends have tried to set me up with other single people they know, because there’s nothing people in monogamous relationships like to do more than live vicariously through meddling in the lives of their single friends. Not that I’m complaining (yet), but it does lead to some interesting pairings, based solely on the fact that we are quite possibly the last two people that these couples know who are single, and attracted to the gender that other person happens to be.

To illustrate, a conversation happened the other day that made me stop and wonder… is this really what it’s come down to? Is this what’s left? Do I need to start navigating the “best of the rest” in terms of guys who are still single?

Friend: We should really set you up with [random guy]. Here’s a picture..
Self: Hey, he’s pretty cute!
Friend: Yah, and he’s super nice, and really charismatic
Self: Sounds like my type already
Friend: Except he lives in Kamloops
Self: Uh, that’s not really ideal…
Friend: Well, he doesn’t plan on living there forever, he’s thinking of moving down this way..
Self: I suppose if that’s the plan, it wouldn’t hurt to meet him next time he’s down here.
Friend: Awesome! We’ll try to get him down in February for [husband’s] birthday.
Self: Good idea!
Friend: Oh, one other thing, you should know that he’s got OCD.
Self: You mean he’s just a little quirky and alphabetizes his sock drawer? Or you mean like, medicated and crazy like “Jack Nicholson in As Good as it Gets“?
Friend: Actively medicated and in therapy. But despite that he lived and worked in South America for a number of years, and it’s never affected his ability to do his job or have an otherwise normal life!
Self: Well, I suppose I’d rather be with someone who’s got a diagnosed and treatable medical condition than someone who thinks they’re fine, but actually suffers from General Asshattery Disorder, like so many of the guys I’ve dated lately.
**pause**
Self: This is what it’s come down to, isn’t it?
Friend: You may have a point…
Self: Siamese, or Tabby?

Dating is hard. There, I said it.

I love being single, the potential of a new adventure with an as-yet-unmet Prince Charming, the freedom of painting the town and shamelessly flirting without remorse, and ultimately not having to think of the well-being of anyone but myself at the end of my day.

I do not so much love the loneliness when I could really use a shoulder to cry on or someone to snuggle with, the lack of meaningful date for any number of weddings and hallmark holidays, or (heaven forbid) the bit of longing I feel when I’d actually welcome someone else to consider at the end of my day.

And so, I date. And, as you can see from my Ridiculously High Standards it does not always go so well. I’ve tried all sorts of avenues for finding potential mates. Meeting men in bars, at extracurricular activities, at work, setups by friends, and on any number of online dating websites.

One place I haven’t met any dates yet though, is through this blog. I didn’t really think about it until I read a great piece by Al3x (via Richard), regarding blog-dating.

In my eyes, telling a blogger “hey, I love what you write every day, and you look kinda cute in that 200×100 pixel photo on your site” seems a lot less shallow than picking up a random attractive stranger at a bar. A blog date starts from mutual intellectual respect, and that’s a healthy thing.

Go forth, then, and mack. The only thing you have to lose are your TrackBacks.

You know Alex, I agree completely.

And really, all of this is a lead-up to say that while I may not have had any success finding dates via my blog, what I write about them afterward seems to be popular. So if you enjoy reading about my escapades, and would like to see me speak and/or pick my brain a bit about dating, blogging & the interactions and implications thereof, you may want to sashay your way over to the Northern Voice site and register for the conference on February 10th & 11th.

I’ll be participating in a panel on “Blogs and the Bedroom: Blogging and Relationships” as the token “single blogger” with the likes of Maryam Scoble (wife of megablogger Robert Scoble), blogging betrothed Chris Pirillo and Latthana ‘Ponzi’ Indharasophang, and married bloggers Ted & Julie Leung (and if any of these names, links, or statuses are incorrect, please email me!).

Of course, the entire conference was a blast last year (and really the kick in the pants I needed to take my site to the place it is today), and I recommend you go anyway. But if I’m the inspiration you need to make the committment to go, then so be it. And if I’m that kind of inspiration for you to go, don’t forget to ask me for a drink afterward!