There’s a first time for everything

Long before the Slutty Study was even a thought in my mind, I took a Caribbean cruise with my family, which included my parents, my 3 brothers, and one of their girlfriends. Back then I was way shyer than I am today and would never have dreamed of documenting any of type of dating, flirtation, or hanky panky on a blog for the world to see. That being said, I think most singles are plenty happy to keep a lookout for a vacation fling, this shy girl included.

It was formal night on our cruise, so the whole family headed to dinner in our cocktail dresses and suits, with freshly sunburned faces to match. After dinner us “kids” decided that we couldn’t let our formal-wear go to waste by going back to our rooms, so we hit up the tacky cruise nightclub, knowing full well that we were way too cool for it.  Nonetheless, I was in a hot dress on my way to da club- I obviously had my single girl antennae up.

When we got there we were disappointed to see how unbelievably desolate the place was. We were about to turn around and leave when I convinced my siblings to stay for just one drink. So we sat at the bar making fun of the 60 year old couple and various other weirdos living it up on the dance floor. In all of this people-watching we must have missed the fact that a new guy came in and was sitting just across from us on the other side of the bar. When we realized that he was alone and decent looking, my brothers and gf instantly starting encouraging me (more liking pushing and teasing me) to go talk to him. Like I said before, I was a shy non-thirty-something non-slut, so this idea terrified me, but I was also away from home and in vacation mode, so it also excited me. On top of this, the guy kept looking in our (well, my) direction, so we figured it was really his invitation for me to go talk to him.

So I did.

I walked right the heck over, sat down next to him and said hey what’s up? Thankfully we had read him correctly and he was, in fact, single and ready to mingle. We started chatting and it was actually not-so-bad. Don’t get me wrong, there were no fireworks or gazing into each other’s eyes, but it was still good enough, and that was really all I needed! I soon learned that he was way younger than me (early twenties and I was in my late twenties), and immediately started to stress. It took all my mental energy to force out the voice in my head that said “are you sure you want to be talking to this barely legal boy?”, and replace it with “of course I want to talk to him, I’m not searching for the love of my life here, just a tolerable enough guy for tonight”, and tolerable he was. He was from upstate New York, charming enough, and not so smart. Perfect recipe for a vacation fling. So I continued on.

An hour and a few drinks later, conversation started to die down, so we mosied on to the dance floor, and before long we were making out. In that moment, I was a mix of freaking out and freaking proud of myself. I mean, I spotted a guy, went up to him all alone, chatted, and now we were making out. I don’t know about you but in my books I call that “picking up”. What a success. I guess I’ve always had Slutty Study in my blood 😉

But then, a few minutes in, mid-dancefloor make-out, he asked:

“Wanna f*ck?”

Yes, he said that to me, or more like word-vomited it out. Now don’t get me wrong, I didn’t expect any extreme chivalry from this young, not so classy kid, but I didn’t expect that! I mean, getting down on the dance floor could very possibly have led to some stateroom bow chica wow wow later on, but I was a little shocked to be asked flat out while we were upright, fully-clothed, and in public. Call me a prude, but most of all, I was way put-off by his choice of vocabulary. Damn. Would it have bothered you? Just to clarify, I wasn’t bothered enough to leave, just bothered enough to notice…! I smiled timidly and politely said, hmmm, maybe later?!

So we stayed on the dance floor for a little while longer and then decided to go sit down on some nearby couches. He led the way and when we sat down he turned to me and said:

“Man, did you see the way those *n-words* were looking at you? ”

But he said the actual word. That word.

I was speechless. No words. My ears were on fire and my heart started racing. He wasn’t trying to joke, and this wasn’t a rap song, neither of which would have been ok either. He really just referred to a group of people using (what I consider) the most offensive, loaded word in the English language. Maybe I’m privileged to be able to say this, but I had never witnessed such blatant racism live in front of my face, let alone with someone I had just made “friends” with a few hours earlier. Wow.

Horrified, I immediately questioned him about it but he just couldn’t see the problem with what he had said. His defense was that he caught the group of guys checking me out (and clearly felt threatened), and therefore thought it was a perfectly valid time to use that word. I tried to reason with him but it was quickly apparent that there was no use.

I told him that that is not something I could ever tolerate, and that I needed to leave. He was shocked and tried to change my mind, but I had already blocked him out, and to my own surprise, I had even become little nervous sitting there next to him. I got up while he was still talking and raced out, checking behind me to make sure that he was not following me. I was that freaked out. I got to my room and thank goodness my brother was up and I was able to tell him what happened and calm down a bit.

Luckily my siblings knew what he looked like so for the rest of our time on the cruise I had them on constant lookout so that I can walk away in case I ever saw him again. Thankfully it never came to that.

How’s that for a change in direction?  I’m sure you didn’t think that the story of my first time picking up in a bar would lead to the story of my first time meeting someone who thought racism was OK, I know I didn’t! And although I’m proud of the way I reacted and stood my ground in that situation, that experience was a huge reality check for me; it showed me although much progress has been made, racism still exists, and is not as far away from my little world as I may once have thought….

 

 

 

Yoga Guy (Finale)

If you missed the first parts of the Yoga Guy saga, see here, then here, and then here.

So I met him. Oh boy. Here’s how it went down:

We rescheduled to meet on Friday, so on Thursday night he texted (thank god) to confirm.  Mid-text it dawned on me that I truly had no idea who I would be looking for once I got to the bar the next day. I mean I tried to Facebook stalk him, Google him, even find him on LinkedIn and Instagram, but as you know, he was no where to be found. Seeing as I was about to meet the most untraceable person out there, I flat out asked him how I’ll know who he is when I get there. We were meeting after work on a Friday so it’s possible other guys would be hanging at the bar waiting to meet friends (and I’ll be sure to check each of them out too, don’t you worry).  He answered that he’ll be the one in a plaid blazer.

A plaid blazer?

I couldn’t tell if he was joking and I wasn’t sure if it was funny. What’s a plaid blazer? Is that some kind of hipster thing? Was it some kind of he doesn’t know how to dress thing? Of course him providing me with info on how to find him ended up confusing me even more, I’m starting to notice a pattern here….

Friday arrived and I woke up with a full-blown cold. A throat hurting, nose running, take 2 Advil Cold & Flu every 4 hours type of cold. But there was no way I was cancelling this date.  As I left work at 5 and raced to the bar where we were meeting, I realized that my Advil-induced 4 hour feel-better window was starting to close. Once I got there I rallied, took a deep breath, and walked in. The host told me that Yoga Guy was here and was sitting upstairs. Here goes nothing. I got upstairs and searched the room for a plaid blazer, but couldn’t find one. What I did find was the only guy sitting alone, so I went up to him and introduced myself. Thankfully it was him, and it was only once I was within 2 feet of him that I saw the microscopic “plaid” squares on his jacket- they were really more like checkers. In that moment I realized that stressing about what a plaid blazer said about him last night was 5 minutes of my life that I’ll never get back.

Anyway, I was about to sit down when I found myself oddly confused, and it took me a few seconds to realize why.  He was seated in a corner booth, and because the bar was pretty small, there were only the 2 corner spots to sit in, no chairs on the 3rd and 4th sides of the table. A little presumptuous, no doubt.  But the weird part is that he was sitting in neither of the 2 adjacent booth spots, he was sitting in the actual corner, which was not even a seat! I was sure because the corner of the table was jutting into his torso. So of course I was confused, he was sitting in neither seat AND in both seats all at the same time! No matter which side I chose to sit at I would have to turn my entire body around to face him. Awkward on top of awkward.

I finally sat down but because I was nervous I started talking incessantly, and because I was feverish I immediately popped my Advils with the only glass of water at the table, which I can only assume was his. I then apologized for speed talking while downing pills in his face with his water. Who’s the freak now?  Thankfully he laughed politely at my antics.

The rest of the date was fine, nothing earth-shattering, pretty much no chemistry, but still fine. He did have a cool story about how he had a small speaking role in a movie with a well-known actor, and spent a summer training with him (physically) for the role.  I later wondered if he told that story to every girl he went out with, like if that was his “first date story”. I then realized that I didn’t have a first date story- is that something people have? should I have one? I just assumed my tactics of being cute, charming, and cutting (when necessary) were enough to lure the boys in. Have I been doing it all wrong…? Maybe my milkshake wasn’t enough to bring all the boys to the yard… and that’s why I’m here writing this blog instead of a mommy blog. Damn.

Close to 2 hours in, the Kleenex I had been using the entire time was getting soggy and I was on the verge of being too tipsy to drive home, so we asked for the bill and headed out.  As we said our goodbyes he leaned in for a kiss kiss on the cheeks while also attempting to shake my hand, or at least take my hand, and I got so uncomfortable with both that I blurted out “you don’t want to touch me, I’ve been holding snot in my hand for the past 2 hours” (referring to my Kleenex). Well. That stopped him in his tracks. As he laughed in shock at the stupidity that came out of my mouth, he responded with “oh, and here I thought I was going to be all romantic”. ROMANTIC?! Romantic?! Dude it’s a first date, who said anything about romance? On a first date all I care about is making sure I can tolerate your stupid face. Save the “romance” for Valentine’s Day…. Luckily I was able to keep a straight face after he said that, and I thanked him for the drinks and ran away.

He texted me a few days later to ask how I was feeling, which was very nice of him, but the messages died out pretty quickly. I think it was clear to both of us that nothing would come of this. Looking back I think that his sole purpose in my life was to provide me with intrigue, entertainment, and hundreds of words-worth of blog posts, and for that I thank you, Yoga Guy.

Best of luck with your next phone call.

 

PS. Although I think Advil Cold and Flu is a miracle drug, this post was in no way sponsored by them. However, in the off-chance that you are reading this, Mr. Advil, have your people call my people 😉

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Call Me by Your Name

… looks like a great movie and I really want to see it.

On the topic of movies and calling people by names, you know those movies where two people are banging and the guy calls the girl by the wrong name?  Any time I’ve ever seen that I’ve thought a) does that really happen? and b) what would I do if it happened to me? Has it ever actually happened to you? I’m convinced it’s just a dramatic movie thing…. All this to say, I just experienced what I could only call the Millennial version of that very situation a few days ago, and I’ve since found myself equal parts offended and amused, but really more on the amused side 😉

So I had been chatting with a Happ’n guy for a few days, asking the usual “what do you do?”, “where are you from?”, “do you like it in the butt?” (KIDDING!!) questions back and forth, with him responding in fairly lengthy paragraphs every time. In my embarrassingly vast dating app experience, paragraph answers lead me to think that the guy is pretty into the whole dating thing and that he really cares to give a full and comprehensive response. Good on him, that’s pretty nice, though for a girl with a short attention span it tends to feel more like work than flirtatious fun, but that’s a topic for another day. Anyway, he had just finished telling me about his weekend when he reciprocated with “and how about you, Caterina?”.

Exqueeze me? baking powder?

Caterina?

I was so confused to see another girl’s name on MY screen that it took me a full 3 Mississippi’s to realize that he had called me by some other lucky girl’s name. Ha!!!!!  I was about to respond with more attitude than I even knew I had when I saw that he wrote 4 more messages after that one, realizing what he had written and apologizing profusely for it.  As my bitchiness began to subside I actually found myself feeling sorry for the poor sucker. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I would ever make that mistake, but I’ve definitely made other, equally careless mistakes in other aspects of my life, so I got it. And really, apart from that misstep, he and his paragraphs seemed decent enough, so I decided to cut him some slack and not respond as cuttingly as originally intended. I did, however, make him sweat it out until the next day before I wrote back. Hehe.

Once enough time had passed for him to worry that I may never write back I decided to craft my response.  While I was going to write something forgiving and understanding, I suddenly felt the need to also write something to put him in his place, to know that sure, you can make that mistake, but know that you’re not the only one dividing your attention among several other people on the app! Maybe it’s just me, but if I’m talking to someone, I at least want the illusion of feeling special, that I’m not just one of many gals giving you the time of day.

I finally responded with an easy-breezy mix of sarcasm and humour: “It’s ok Joe, I mean Mike,” his name was actually Paul, “we’re all talking to a bunch of people at the same time, it happens. I won’t write you off just yet ;)”

Looking back, it’s funny how HIS mistake made ME feel like I had lost some sort of upper-hand, and that I needed to win it back while still keeping him interested and wanting more.  Quite the balancing act. Is that normal? Is it a woman thing? Is it a woman-in-a-Time’s-Up-era thing? Am I over-reacting? Under-reacting? I guess I’m not as amused by this as I thought I was…

How would you have responded? Let me know in the comments below!

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Yoga Guy (update #2)

If you missed the first parts of the Yoga Guy saga, see here and then here.

The day after the unfortunate phone call with Yoga Guy, I found myself torn between trying to forget it had ever happened and looking him up on Facebook to see the face that went with that god-awful 15 minutes. I finally took the plunge and looked him up, but to my surprise I couldn’t find him. I tried various spellings of his first and last names, and nothing. I then searched through my sis-in-law’s Facebook friends to track him down, and still nothing. I figured this must be a job for Google, so I tried that and guess what? Nothing. I was in shock. In this day and age, it takes a lot of work to have ZERO digital footprint, and yet he’s managed it. Meanwhile, typing in my own name turns up every account, site and list that I’ve ever been on- pages and pages of hits! I wouldn’t know how to get rid of them all if I tried.
Very impressive Yoga Guy, very impressive.

Later on in the week I realized that I was no longer able to make our Tuesday date, so I wanted to contact him to reschedule ASAP.  I checked the Recent Calls in my phone to get his number so I can text him when I remembered that this whole thing started with his private number (in case you’re keeping count, he has a private number and no digital footprint- I was starting to get suspicious).  Anyway, I asked my sis-in-law for his number and to my for real, legitimate surprise, she said she didn’t have it, and sent me the only contact info she had, which was his email address. It felt a little intrusive to email this guy who I had spoken to just that one special time, so I figured I’d wait it out until I heard from him.  In the meantime, I noticed that his email address was his firstname_lastname@lastname.com, which seemed kind of fake if you ask me. Seriously dude, do you even really exist? Are you wanted in all 50 states?

A few nights later, I had finally managed to block this whole situation from my mind when I saw a missed call and voicemail from private number. Clearly Mr. Private Everything was calling to confirm our date. I checked my voicemail which, if you’re like me, you haven’t done since 2016, and thank goodness that a) I remembered my password, and b) he left me his number. I took it down and hung up faster than you can say shoot me so I wouldn’t have to hear another second of his PTSD-inducing voice. I then sent him a quick text about rescheduling our date (as if I was going to call, ha!) and felt instantly relieved that my job with this stupidity was done.

Until….

The message bounced right back! I wish I was joking but I swear I’m not. It said I had just voted for some participant to win some competition. Excuse me? What? Was I being Punk’d? Yes, that must be it. I proceeded to check my bathroom and my apartment corridor, but Ashton Kutcher was nowhere to be found. I just couldn’t catch a break. Maybe I was being punished…. like it was karma for being bitchy about this whole situation, though if that was the case then it was totally worth it 😉

So I resorted to sending an awkward email to the potentially fake address I had because what else was I supposed to do at this point, and explained that I’m a dummy who took down the wrong number from his voicemail and bla bla bla. To be honest I was a little embarrassed about having to email him at all, I mean who’s the loser now, amirite?  Thankfully it was the correct email address and he wrote back right away saying he was good to reschedule, and gave me his number again for next time.  I wrote it down next to the wrong number I already had, curious how wrong I had it the first time. Guess what. Very wrong. Every-single-digit-was-different type of wrong. Whaaat? After 3 full minutes of laughing so hard in disbelief that I was crying, I walked to my kitchen and poured myself an Olivia Pope sized glass of wine.

Here’s to you, Yoga Guy, you better not disappoint.

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Bibbity bobbity boo

It was snowing like a mofo when I realized that I absolutely NEEDED oatmeal for some muffins I was making, and therefore NEEDED to get to the grocery store ASAP. It was seconds later that I realized that once again, I hadn’t put my car in the garage when I got home from my day. It was no biggie though, it was just that cute fluffy-type of snow that was falling, nothing I couldn’t handle.

I got dressed and headed out, and it was while I was brushing the snow off my windows that I remembered what happened last time I was clearing the snow from my car. Ooooooh!!!! All I could think of from then on was imagine this is my La La Land moment?!  What if that cute, bearded, BMW-driving guy zoomed over to me once again and cleaned my car for me, once again! (if you’re asking “bearded guy who?” see this post).  I got way too excited at this idea, I mean I was wearing a cute tuque, my hair looked great, and I was even wearing mascara! I was so ready for him this time. What if he was my fairy god-mother of snow clearing, or like, my fairy god sexy-awesome-guy-who-I-then-fell-in-love-with-and-married mother? Maybe not mother… But holy sh*t maybe this is how it’s meant to happen for me!  He obviously didn’t show up this time, but maybe he will next time, or the time after that!

Maybe I should stop parking my car in the garage every time they call for snow, just in case. What do you think?

Don’t answer that.

 

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Yoga Guy (update #1)

It was a typical weeknight of doing a bit of work followed by a lot of TV watching when I reached to check my phone and realized I had a missed call from “unknown number”. I didn’t think much of it, other than Whatever, I probably didn’t want to speak to you anyway, and continued on with episode 3 of The Sinner.

The next night I was in the middle of episode 5 when “unknown number” called again.  I was a little annoyed to see that whatever telemarketer was sneakily trying to call me last night with their incognito number hadn’t given up and was trying to disturb my night once again. As my inner bitchiness was growing by the second, I picked up with an uncontrollably obnoxious hello.  All I could hear on the other end was two Mississippi’s worth of background noise followed by a fuzzy “hi, Jessica?”, to which I responded “what? ya…”, “Hey, it’s Yoga Guy McYogaGuy, your sister-in-law Melissa’s friend. She said she’d tell you I was going to call….?” She said what? “Oh, no she definitely did NOT tell me that.” She really didn’t.

Now, I know many girls would think it was so nice and refreshing for a guy to actually pick up the phone and call, but all I could think was f*ck, f*ck, f*ck, while I immediately started to sweat all over.  A phone call??? Dude, it’s not 2008, no need for that kind of unannounced live interaction. Now I needed to be awake, chatty, AND charming, with no notice at all? I would have been so much happier with a nice impersonal text. But a little voice inside of me said ok girl, get it together, maybe this guy is the love of your life. Pause your tv show, put on your big girl panties and deal. So I did. The convo went something like this:

Me: Anyways, how’s it going?
Him: Pretty good, you?
Me: Good thanks. What are you up to?
Him: Just leaving work.
Me: Nice. What do you do?
Him: Bla bla accounting bla bla big company.
Me: That sounds cool.
Him: *nothing*
Me: *wtf*

The rest of the phone call was just as staccato. I know that first interactions are usually awkward no matter, how could they not be, but this was beyond. Making conversation was like pulling teeth. I asked questions and he responded with long-winded answers that trailed off to no where, to the point that I would be waiting for the point of his story so I could respond, but then he would just stop talking, indicating that his story was done, and I still didn’t see what he was getting at, so would just change the subject. I tried to tell myself that some people are just not phone people (but then maybe send a text instead?), or maybe he was super nervous (we’re all adults, calm the f down), but then the kicker happened.

In a desperate attempt to fill the uncomfortable silence for the third time in 10 minutes, I brought up a song that I had heard earlier in the day that my friends and I were obsessed with in high school and that I hadn’t heard in ages.  It took him a few seconds to realize what song I was referring to, but said it was from waaaay after high school, did I mean I loved it during university?  I was like, no man definitely high school, don’t you remember? Then it hit me that maybe we just aren’t the same age, duh. So I straight up asked how old he was, maybe that was the source of our conflicting timelines. In that moment the phone went fuzzy again and all I heard was “forty se——n”. Assuming I didn’t hear what I thought I had heard I asked him to repeat it. Nope, I heard right the first time. FORTY SEVEN!!!!! That’s over 10 years older than me!!!!!! Whaaaaat? Should I just call him Dad?? And let me get this straight, he’s been alive for 47 years and is STILL this awkward with the ladies? Holy moly. Does he even want kids? Does he already have kids? So many new questions came up.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that in some cases age is just a number, and if I met some amazing guy who happened to be that much older than me, I would totally go for it, no question. But my sis-in-law thought I would hit it off with this awkward dinosaur? Thanks for the compliment, sis.

At this point I still felt an obligation to at least meet him for a drink, maybe Yoga Guy isn’t sooo bad in person, and I definitely couldn’t tell my sis-in-law that I shut the operation down after one phone call, that’s just rude. Thankfully he soon wrapped up the call by asking if/when I’d be up for a drink. We agreed on Tuesday next week and he said he would get in touch later in the week to discuss the details.

I said no problem, just text me.

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