The Dating Saga Continues

*I have been asked if any of these guys made it past date one, or if they were recent additions to the ridiculousness that is my life. The answer is yes and no, respectively. Yes, one made it to date two, and no, none of these examples are recent.  I decided to wait before posting about people in case of stalking issues.

A special thanks to Kissee McGee and The (wishes he was) Hulk. Without you none of this would be possible.

The Dating Saga Continues and I am left to wonder, is it my awkwardness that brings out the worst in guys, or the worst in guys that brings out my awkwardness?

For your (hopefully) continued enjoyment, I bring to you 10 Signs Your Date was a Winner (or, Things That Actually Happened to Me):

1)      He gave me the once over and then said “I hope you got skim milk” after I ordered my latte

2)      He wanted me to walk him to his bus stop and wait with him, even though my bus came first

3)      He kissed me and all I could think was “He’s much shorter than he said. Much, much shorter.”

4)      He casually told me about his rage issues and how he almost got fired from work for taking a swing at a fellow employee

5)      … And then was surprised that I work retail and don’t “just snap” and “see red for hours”.

6)      He kissed me again and all I could think of was how much I wanted to go home, put on my sweat pants and dance around to the Camp Rock Soundtrack

7)      He asked me if I had ever had any life or death experiences, and if they turned me on

8)      He spent 25 minutes telling me about all of the things his ex-girlfriend “stole” in the breakup

9)      … And then delighted in telling me that he stole her bird, and it died (apparently these two facts are unrelated, but still quite suspicious)

10)   When the highlight of the date was coming home to tell my parents about all the things that went wrong.

With that in mind, dating in Victoria is still better than dating in Edmonton. At least no guy here has made me sit through a half hour of abortion and rape jokes, and then got angry when “I wasn’t in the mood”.

someecards.com

the quickest way to a man’s heart is NOT by insulting his hockey team.

Well folks, you are hearing it here first (unless you’ve been speaking with my Mother), I’ve returned to the world of internet dating.

It ain’t pretty, it certainly ain’t fun, and I would probably have more success if I stopped saying ain’t. Since my arrival in Victoria I have been out with two “gentlemen”.  One was nice, the other was nicer. Neither will be the future Mr. Sarah’s Husband.

To be honest, I’m not even sure I’m ready to date. Dating for me is like drinking a can of insta-awkward. It’s painful, hurts my stomach, and is extremely damaging to my self esteem (despite my “having a smile that makes a man sit back and sigh”).

I don’t like it and I don’t know why I’m doing it.

Still, there are some perks to internet dating. Receiving messages complimenting my smile or my stunning wit are great for an ego boost (though the poor spelling and grammar makes my eyes bleed). And the constant comic relief is a wonderful distraction from the real world. Would you like me to give some examples?

Of course you would.

So, for your reading pleasure, I bring to you the highlights of my internet dating life:

Let’s start with the first message I received …

Direct Quote: Heyy girl! Howz it goin? Your pretty … chat?”

With a lead like that, how could I resist reading the profile? This charmer was looking for someone “genuinne to Hang Out with. You kno, a reel girl who wants more then a relation-ship with her mirror”.

Awesome.

Then there was the oh-so memorable drunk dial:

“Hey Sarah. Where you at? Let’s go for a walk MOTHERFUCKER! Peace.”

Mr. D-D and I were supposed to meet for a walk and talk on Saturday, but our evening was cancelled when he hurt himself at work. I gave him my number so that we could work out a new time to meet … Apparently midnight on a Monday seemed ideal.

And lastly, possibly the most unfortunate highlight, is a story that requires some background.

While perusing my “July 3rd Matches” I found a man I had a crush on all through middle school and for the first few years of High School. If you knew me in High School, you know I definitely never had the balls to approach my dream boy. No, mine was an unrequited and unknown love … restricted to longing gazes from across the cafeteria.

But no more! Not only was he online, but we were compatible! The internet told me we would make a great match, and I believed it! With visions of a town house in Colwood and a wonderful wedding speech that tactfully left out any mention of PoF I bravely sent him a message.

My opening line? A crack about the Toronto Maple Leafs. Yes, it’s true. I initiated contact with the man of my dreams by insulting his favourite hockey team. In my defence, the only people under 40 who like the Leafs are those who were born in Toronto or enjoy being made fun of.

Still, it was probably not my proudest moment.

This might have been recoverable had I said something even remotely interesting in the rest of the message. No, instead of saying something witty to make myself stand out from the other ladies I went on to say that “I didn’t actually expect a reply, am pretty generic, and find internet dating has allowed me to master the ellipses”.

Apparently my tendencies towards self sabotage extend to the internet.

Well … at least I didn’t ask him what he thought our babies would look like.

DATE ME DATE ME DATE ME

EDIT: Thank you, Davie. I now have a glimpse of what might have been …

When a fine PYT walks in front of your tree do the Creep

Last night I met the man of my dreams. Well, met is an exaggeration. Really, I just dreamed about him. (So, you see, he literally was the man of my dreams.)

It was a pretty great dream. We were both members of the X-Men and we fell in love saving the world, one dramatic story arc at a time. He was the Gambit to my Rogue, the Beak to my Angel, the Cyclops to my Jean Grey (sans Phoenix). It was lovely.

After waking up still single I was left with a sudden and unexpected realization. It is time to return to the world of internet dating.

Yes, I said return.

Not many people know this but last fall, with the help of my roommate, I set up an account with PlentyOfFish. It started off as a joke so that the two of us could look up random profiles for giggles, but it soon turned into something more. People started sending me messages (some intriguing, most not) and I actually ended up meeting someone for a date.

The first date went well, but it was downhill from there (he sent me 33 text messages in the space of two hours, including pictures of himself). We went out one more time but that was the last of it.

And the last of my internet dating life.

Or so I thought. Now, after several hilariously awful attempts (not to be confused with awfully hilarious) at traditional dating, I have decided to try my hand at internet dating again.

I’ve already set up my new profile:

Does it matter if I knocked a year off my age?

Wish me luck. If all else fails, I can still try the “mail order option”.