Moonlighting: I Am The Christopher Columbus Of Kink

If you're not familiar with the fabulous site MetAnotherFrog.com or simply haven't had a chance to read my latest guest post for them...go and check it out now.  Girls.  It's time to explore.  Boys.  It's time to take notes.

Guest Post Title: I Am The Christopher Columbus Of Kink.



Topic Proposed:  Pain as Pleasure (Part of Kink Month)

Website: metanotherfrog.com

Date: July 28, 2010

The Riddle of the Kiss

So he hasn't kissed me.  Yet.  That much is clear.  I've definitely noticed.  I'm quite aware.  But I didn't say it in last post because I wanted an unbiased response.  Sure I knew you guys would notice the lack of a kiss.  But I wanted to leave you unbiased to share your opinions about why.  And frankly I'm shocked.  In the best possible way.  Because not a single one of you seem to think he just isn't into me.  Only I'm not totally sold.  Because maybe you're just pulling yes-men duty and saying what you think I want to hear?  Or you think I'm so totally awesome that you can't imagine a single person not wanting to jump these bones?  Or perhaps the evidence really does suggest he's just a nice guy...waiting...for a good moment. 

I've had two dates with Trucker Joe.  And still.  Not so much as a hand hold.  3 hugs.  That's right.  I'm officially counting hugs right now.  Awesome.  But don't worry.  All is not lost.  I have some theories.  It could one of these.  It could be a combination.  It could be all of them.  Let's get to evaluating.

Positive Theories

1.  He was planning to lay some contact on me during our last date.  Preferably at the end of our walk out to the point.  But with the charming euro-gays, the old ladies, and the drunk teens all equalling a total lack of privacy he thought better to wait (which honestly was a great call if this theory pans out).

2.  Both dates have been of the casual friendly vibe (aka short and sweet, full sunlight, very public) and he's waiting for a more romantic (aka sexy) moment.

3.  He is divorced and the first chick he dated after the split ended up being very future-oriented and when he wasn't (after only 2 mnths geesh chicks!) she was piiiiisssseeed! (this is not part of the theory this part is fact).  So he's moving slow and taking things easy.  Possibly under the guise of protecting me but more likely to protect himself.

4.  He's simply old-fashioned.  He's being a gentleman.  He's waiting.

5.  Similar to #1 and #2 but essentially just the fact that our second date was cut short

6.  And I find this one the most interesting.  I've always held the notion that people have a million sides.  I personally am somewhere around 400 different people (in a totally non-schizophrenic way).  But the thing of the thing is.  I haven't really shown him many of these.  In fact.  There's a whole side.  That I offered up to Intelligence Officer.  And let Twitter Guy push me towards.  That I haven't even hinted at.  TJ has no idea.  Not a clue.  And here's just a sample roster.  Of that side of me.  That I haven't brought out for him...

Sluttmazing Susan
Sex Maniac Samantha-Marie
Life of the Party Lolita
Adventurer Addison
Bawdy Betty
Hilarious Hilary
Late-night Lulu
Hotel Room Heather-Ray

Because on our dates.  I've been in Sundresses.  And strapless bras (not really relevant to the average person but worth mentioning as to insinuate I was not showcasing the cleave if you will).  I've been in day time makeup (no smokey eyes, but cute and peachy and innocent).  We've talked about friends and work and family.  For all TJ knows.  I'm freakin' Betty from the 'Burbs and by 'burbs...I mean...the 'burbs of the 50s...June Cleaver style.  So this could be another reason he hasn't layed the mack down if you will.

But then again.  It's entirely possible.  The reason.  Stems from a Negative Theory.  Ugh.  No one likes those.


Negative Theories

1.  He's not attracted to me.  (Ugh.  Nobody likes this one)

2.  He just wants to be friends.


But then again.  Our date was on Tuesday.  And he said we'd talk before the weekend.  And low and behold I got a text on Friday.  And I swear it's like he's taking notes.  On our conversations.  Because the dude remembers shit.  I had told him about going to a "Southern" type restaurant with my friend on Wednesday.  Collard Greens were discussed.  And then Friday rolled around

How were the collard greens?  Worth going back for? :)  Have a great weekend.

So maybe.  He does like me.  Maybe.  I do have some kissing in my future.  Though I should specify.  I mean kissing with Trucker Joe.  Because this weekend.  I already got some other kissing.  True Story.

The Catch: Brought To You By My Dad

So...What if you get caught?


These words.  So simple.  So poignant.  Asking about my blog.  Asking about my heart.  In a casual discussion.  Said by my Dad.  Concerned.  Comical.  Light-hearted.  But serious.  Always looking out for my best interest.  Just like Mom.  Sitting with him.  They look at me.  Wait for my answer.


Do you mean if they read my blog, catch me writing about them?  Or  if I develop feelings for them, really get caught up?


I figure it's the former.  They've asked before.  They kind of marvel at the whole thing.  Supportive.  They always have been.  Of my writing.  But then, they don't really know.  Because of course.  I don't let them read it.  This.  Here.  This blog.  Sure.  They know some things.  They know I'm dating.  Sporadically.  They know about Garbage Man.  They know I sort of dated a guy.  Who was a moron.  But they don't need sordid details.  They know about Tedski and the insanity that was our first date.  They know there's this thing called Twitter.  They kind of understand it.  They know about Trucker Joe.  But back to the question at hand.


Both.


Interesting.  So I explain the first.  The "somethings" (excepting Twitter Guy) couldn't possibly find the blog.  Not only would they never even think to look.  I've never even mentioned I write.  To any of them.  But even if the thought occured to them.  There's not a possibility they would have the slightest notion of what to look for.  My name isn't anywhere on it.  My picture not to be found.  This isn't any indication of their intelligence. 

And then I explain the second.  With an analogy.  Because just like I love Science and Dating.  I love a good analogy.  In fact I find that I both understand and can convey knowledge to others, most succinctly, with analogies.  So I told them.  To be concerned about getting "caught" up.  Would be like fishing.  In a lake that only has Rainbow Trout.  And worrying that you might snag a whale.  And that's what it's like.  On plentyoffish.com.  Rainbow Trout.  Nothing but Rainbow Trout. 

They chuckle.  Seemingly satisfied with this answer.  If it wasn't for school and the impending temporary cessation of my dating.  As parents, they might be a little more concerned that their daughter isn't interested in finding love.  In having a life shared with a partner.  Being on the hunt for it now.  Being even remotely open to it right now.  But they're not.  Because of school.  And knowing me.  And seeing how I am these days.  Coated in elation.  Bathing in breezy.  Calm and sunshiney.  Happy.  Happy.  Happy.

Trucker Joe: What's Missing From This Picture

I feel like I need to give a speech.  A preface.  To my readers.  My oh so lovely readers.  Because I worry.  About your hearts.  More than I'm concerned about my own.  I'm worried you're going to be let down.  Like Trucker Joe really lifted the bar on the first date.  And now when you find out he's just a normal guy and I`m not ready to sign my life away.  You're going to be disappointed.  That it was't the soul mate love you were hoping for.  But then again.  Maybe all your excitement is just that.  Excitement.  The same way that when you're friend tells you she bought an amazing new dress.  That's it's friggin' gorgeous eeeek!  And that's all it is.  A comment.  After that you've forgotten about the dress and moved on.  I mean you're happy for her.  But that's the end of it.  You haven't hung your hopes on the dress or anything.  Yeah.  That's right.  Sounds good.  So let's carry on then.

So when I last left you, I had just had a 1st date with Trucker Joe.  He clearly wanted to hang out again, though he expressed that with words and not kisses.  He had mentioned something about being off work on Tuesday.  Two days later I get a text message.  Good Luck Tonight.  Knock 'Em Dead.  He was wishing me luck on my first of a series of playoff games for the weekend.  Nicely done Trucker Joe.  Nicely done.  Points for remembering.  Points for making contact at an appropriate time. 

Detour.  Because here's the thing boys don't seem to always know.  Sure enough.  You don't want to seem too eager.  Texting and calling constantly.  Not great.  But also not great?  Waiting too long.  Don't let that window close.  There's a small gap where I'm blinded by the success of a first date.  And that is when you need to strike.  Fast and hard.  Make it count boys.  Make it count.

Back on Track.  The weekend goes by.  We did not win the playoffs lol.  I did however, manage to snag Playoff MVP for my team...woohoo!  Sunday night.  My phone is fucking up again (shocker!).  I send numerous texts to my softball buddies.  Only about 40% are received.  Fuck. Me.  I send TheHell some tester texts.  They appear to go through.  I risk it.  Don't ask why I don't just call.  I don't fucking know.  I'm retarded like that.  So anyways.  I send a text.  Blah blah blah something cute I'm so adorable blah blah blah.  He responds back repeating something I had written on Friday about unhittable strikes.  Fucking top notch listening (reading) Trucker Joe.  Keep it up and you'll have this (me) in the bag.

He texts that he'll call.  He calls (I never hear it ring) and leaves a voicemail.  There's a lot of texting and calls (to my phone) going straight to voicemail.  Fucking phone.  Ugh.  We eventually connect.  Make plans for Tuesday night.  What do you want to do? he asks.  I'm lame and respond umm...I don't know and then try to save it with I'm pretty much up for anything.  He suggests going to Crescent Beach.

Detour.  The thing about Crescent Beach is it's pretty big.  And there's no one parking lot.  Frankly there's barely a parking lot.  It's mostly just a ton of side streets.  So he suggests we meet at this park and ride thing and drive together from there.  Since I've decided he's not a serial killer I want to ride in that Big Sexy Pick Up Truck, I'm totally onboard with this idea.

Back on Track. We meet.  Using the oh shit handle and a running start I manage to hoist myself up into the biggest truck I've ever gotten into (seriously where's the step up thing?).  I get in.  I actually mention the lack of step up thing at some point and he mentions that it's not like he really needs it a 6'1.  (I knew he was taller than 6'0 and I honestly wouldn't be shocked if he was just "guessing" and was closer to 6'2 or 6'3).  But I digress.  So we drive to the beach.  Everything is good.

Except.

Yeah.  Take a moment.  Brace yourself.  Because there's an except.  Okay it's not that serious.  But it did cause the cutting short of the date.  Long story short.  He's looking after his married friends' cat.  But just before they left.  Something's wrong.  Sick cat or something.  So instead of having him drop by.  They've got another friend to stay there.  Only he has a key.  The other friend does not.  They say the other friend will pick the key up after work (5ish).  She does not.  She doesn't even call till like 630pm.  He's already on his way to see me.  He says he's got plans.  But of course he's not a total douche (though frankly I would have been more of a douche).  He says the best he can do is 9:30pm.  So it's not the end of the world.  But of course, this means our date has a time limit.  It will definitely get cut short.  I don't reveal that this is sucky.  I'm all smiles and breezy.  We'll just make the best of what time we've got.  (who is this chick lol I'm sayin' right?)

So we talk and park.  We walk and talk.  I'm wearing the cutest short sun dress (please note this students, it will come up again at a future date.)  He's looking adorable again.  Though.  This time.  I remember to look at his shoes.  Something I neglected on the first date.  I was so blown away by his clothes lol!  So they're...okay.  Allow me to elaborate.  They were clean.  They were new.  They were just black running shoes.  They weren't addidas shelltoes.  Anybody else would have thought they were perfectly fine.  Even good.  Obviously I'm judgemental and particular.  But I can let it go.  Nobody's perfect lol!

So more walking and talking.  He asks if I want a coffee or anything from one of the cafes.  I thank him but decline.  It's actually a bit windy.  And my earrings are clinking around.  Hair is everywhere.  I'm having enough difficulty just keeping my little sweater thing on my shoulders.  Plus I'm clumsy.  Holding a coffee would be like the 10th plate.  Juggler drops everything.

He asks if I'm okay to walk to the point.  I am and we do.  The place is pretty busy.  We stumble upon some adorable gay boys.  And when I say gay, I mean like European gay.  Awesome.  And they're full on in the middle of a photo shoot.  I'm guessing a little Guys with iphones scenario.  I get the feeling he was hoping we'd be alone out there.  But alas.  The 4 underage kids drinking on the right and the constant parade of walking elder couples kind of ruined that.  But we sat and chatted anyway.  Lots of giggles.

But I won't lie.  He is a guy.  And by guy I mean child.  There's lots of talks about toys (dirt bikes).  But there's also other good chat.  In fact, at some point he says something so witty that I laugh out loud.  I mean like eruption and pat on the back kind of laughter.  It was good shit.  Alas, I don't remember it though.  Time speeds by and it's time to walk back. 

We get back to the truck.  He goes to my door first.  Opens it.  Waits till I'm all tucked in.  Closes door.  Swoon.  We drive back to my car.  More talking.  We're there.  More talking.  He mentions something about an out-of-town-friend being in town and the boys going somewhere like Kelowna or Victoria the coming weekend.  As I'm getting out of the truck I say something like okay well if I don't talk to you before the weekend, have a great time with the boys.  And he responds with certainty and confidence oh we'll definitely talk before the weekend.

I jump out (remember no step...I'm not exaggerating).  I literally jump out.  Luckily I have little shorts under my dress.  Otherwise I think I would've shown him my ass on the fly out.  I get in my car.  He waits till I've started my car.  (I actually find this kind of dreamy that he double checks everything is in working order and I'm set to go home before he leaves).

What's missing from this picture?  Feel free to speculate amongst yourselves.

Moonlighting: Don't Let Your Kink Go Konk.

Hello My Wonderful Blog Readers!!!

For those of you that following me on Twitter and/or Facebook you probably likely know I went on a second date last night.  But alas, I always need at least a day to process and write.  But never fear.  While I make you wait, with baited breath.  Here is a guest post I wrote for metanotherfrog.com.  Now a little warning.  This post you may (or may not) be about to read is a contribution to the website for "Kink Month" so be forewarned...there will be TMI and R-Ratedness.  Read at your own risk.

Guest Post: Chokehold

Also, if that's not enough to tide you over for the moment don't forget to check out my other guest posts which can always be found under the "moonlighting" section of this blog (top right main  page) but you know I never like to make you guys work hard so for ease here they are below :)

Love Ya - SSDated


My guest posts on MetAnotherFrog include I'm Not Clingy, I'm Just Smarter Than You and I'm a Man Eater, Not a Prey Mantis where I counter certain misconceptions about the female species (and specifically myself).

Trucker Joe: Date Whisperer 2.0

So like I was saying...

It was super sunny. I Had my shades on. I was walking across the Starbucks parking lot. And I just kind of sensed someone was watching me.  But being the daydreaming space cadet super focused person that I am.  I just kept on.  Possibly a little more boobs-out-tummy-in-think-hot-be-hot-thoughts than normal but whatever.  And then I hear it.

He says, Something I can't remember but cute and attention getting. 

So I turn.  And there he is.  Getting out of possibly the sexiest black pickup truck I have ever seen.

Detour.

Though I date boys not their cars.  I think a vehicle says a lot about the person.  Obviously not always accurately.  But still.  The Volvo I drive.  Certainly speaks to my uber-safety rule following ways.  Mega Love drove a Jetta (suped up etc. but still a Jetta).  Garbage Man drove some sort of small girly car.  Intelligence Officer, a yellow pickup truck (mix of masculine and goofiness pretty much spot on).  Twitter Guy drove a wagon.  Back in the days of being gangsta (I`m only partly joking) I wanted my boys in Escalades.  But these days.  With my new found love for super masculine white guys.  I don`t always say it.  But I`ve got *crossies* for trucks.

Back on Track.

So there he is.  Stepping down out of the truck.  And. 



Wait for it.



Wait for it.



He is sooo much hotter than his photos.  He looks younger (than his photos, not me).  He's a babe.  I'm not sure he'd be everybody's cup of tea.  But I think he's pretty friggin' sexy.  No lie.  And really.  It only matters what I think (in this instance).  Now for the clothes.  The attire.  The wrapping paper.  Is he hawiian shirt guy or david beckham?


Wait for it.


Wait for it.


He looks like he just stepped out of an Abercrombie and Fitch commercial.  No lie.  He's wearing a polo shirt that's sort of like those short-sleeved rugby shirts that A&F are so famous for.  Sexy.  He's wearing cargo shorts.  At the perfect length.  But enough about the superficial.  Did I mention he's tall.  His profile says 6'0 but honestly he seemed taller because I had to go on my tippy toes to get my head above his shoulder for our hug (which at 5'7 says something).  And yes I hug.  Because I'm certainly not shaking my date's hand.  That's way too business-meeting.  And I can't not have some kind of physical greeting.  It's just not normal.  Plus no lie.  Good excuse to check the cologne.  And boy smelled gooooood.  Just sayin'.  True Story.

So we go inside.  He holds the door.  And not beccause it just flows.  He specifically opened it.  For me.  Very cute.  I order.  He orders.  He pays.  I hit the loo.  One, I really have to go and Two this is his chance to gracefully ditch just in case.  I come back.  He hasn't ditched.  He's got my drink.  Outside okay? he asks.  I nod and smile.

We sit outside.  For the next two hours.  Conversation flows.  The sun lowers.  Laughter.  Happiness.  Finding out interesting things.  Revealing interesting things.  I may.  MAY.  have been a bit nervous in the first little bit.  And instead of saying Whiterock.  I may.  MAY.  have said White Wock.  But other than that it was pretty fuckin' flawless.

We laughed.  A lot actually.  Somewhere around the 3/4 point of our date, he mentioned that he would like to see me again.  Quarterback drops back, sees his man in the distance and makes the throw.  I would definitely like to see him again.  Touchdown.  The date continues.  We've been done our coffees for awhile.

We get up to leave.  Throw out our cups.  Start walking to our cars.  His is much closer (I park a bit away, don't want my doors dinged).  As we're nearing his car he says I'll walk you to your car.  Very cute.  Chivalry is so manly.  We get to my car.  We hug again.  No kiss.  (but we'll get to that in a moment).  He says again that he'd like to see me again.  In a very manly way no doubt.  But.  And here's the awesome sauce.  He says this and then says, give me a call.  Like not only do I get to have the certainty that he would like to see me again, but I get to be the one holding the power (aka not waiting by the phone) aka feeling super good.  Well played Trucker Joe.  Well played.  He leans down to open the door.

Take a moment.  To fully take in that sentence.  The two parts of brilliance there.

Leans down.  As in.  Tall enough that to open the door he has to lean a bit.

Opens door.  As in.  Total gentleman.  And again.  Not just because it's convenient.  I mean.  His hand is there.  Ready to assisst a lady.  While I'm still fumbling with the unlock button.  Sexy.

He waits for me to get my dress all inside the car and sorted.  Seat belt on.  One last smile.  And close door.

The Date Was Perfection.  He was the date whisperer.  The real date whisperer.  The souped up.  Enhanced.  There's an app for that.  Brand new idate 2.0.  Whispering the crying-baby-worries I had in my head.  Touchdown.

Detour.

Now back to that kiss.  So here's the thing.  About first kisses.  About me and first kisses.  About me and kisses in public.  About any form of public displays.  I've said it before.  I'll say it again.  I'm not a fan of the public displays of affection.  With first dates.  We were at Starbucks.  A busy parking lot.  It was still light out.  I love that he didn't try to kiss me.  I don't doubt that he wanted to/will want to.  But I love love love that he didn't.  I won't lie.  The second hug.  The end of the meeting hug.  Was longer and deliciously tighter than the hello hug.  It was good.  Ahhhh.  Good date.  Nothing else to say about it. 

Back on Track.

When I got home later that night.  I had a message from him.  Had a great time meeting you tonight.  Can't wait to do it again. 

Me too. Trucker Joe.  Me too. 

(Phonecall to TheHell this morning).  So from now on THIS is the date.  That erases the memory of the date with Tedski.  If I'm ever scared/scarred and nervous again.  You just remind me of this.  Tell me about this date again.  And I'll be set.

Trucker Joe: Fear of The Unknown

Which
Older
Guy
Would
He Turn
Out To
Be?

At 3pm yesterday I felt sick to my stomach.  Nerves.  Dread.  Trepidation.  4 hours till my meet and greet with Trucker Joe.  And I was a ball of anxiety and worry.  I blame Tedski.  I blame the date that scarred me for all the other boys.  The worst date ever.

Detour.

Within two days of being back on PlentyOfFish.com, Trucker Joe messaged me.  He thought I was funny.  He looked manly.  Into dirtbiking and camping.  Beaches and fun.  He had a lot to say.  I didn't have to hand-hold the conversation in our messages.  It just flowed.  He was enthusiastic.  He seemed happy.  He had nice teeth.  He was tall.  He had 2 photos up.  1 - 3/4 face visible shot.  1 - dirtbikes.

Detour from the Detour.

Boys are not good at taking photos.  Barbie looked worse.  Garbage Man looked much better.  Tedski looked much worse.  Intelligence Officer looked much much better.  Twitter Guy looked better than his worst photos and worse than his best photo.  So with that being said.  There are 3 categories of attraction when it comes to online dating and me.  The "not-at-alls" who I delete, The "maybes" who seem likely there could be attraction especially pending some more photos and/or in person.  Maybes qualify for dates assuming their personalities don't suck.  And finally the "babes" who still have the potential to disappoint (read: Barbie).

Back on Track.

I liked Trucker Joe's personality.  But that being said.  These days, with 5 dates under my belt, I know how misleading photos can be and thus prefer to meet sooner rather than later.  Which can mean that less things get asked.  Less is known.  Which is great if the date is good because than you're left with lots to talk about.  Horrible if the date is bad and you're like fuck! how did I even agree to this?  But I digress.  The conversation led to plans flawlessly.  He asked if I was a Starbucks or Timmy Ho's girl?  I said, Starbucks but as a student I'm often a foldgers hazelnut instant at home coffee girl.  He said, He'd love to buy me a starbucks, as he's not on a student budget ;).  Phone numbers and text messages exchanged.  Date set.  Wednesday night.  Last night. 

Detour.

The thing about the date with Tedski was.  It left a horrible taste in my mouth.   One that had me generalizing.  Scared.  Scarred.  About older guys.  About guys who have just led completely different lives than me.  About guys who have very different levels of education than I do.  About guys in certain types of employment (see "I Thought I Was a Job Snob" coming soon). 

Back on Track.

So there I was at 3pm yesterday.  Nerves. Dread. Trepidation.  But not about myself.  Because in the words of TurnJacson I already know what I'm bringing to the table.  So I wasn't worried about me.  But FUCK was I worried about him.

Would he look like his photos?
What would he wear?  Would he be in Dad jeans or something equally awful and old and awful?
Would his sense of humor be like Tedski's?
Would he be a total loser?
Would he be inappropriate or weird?
Would he embarass me? (remember this is a small town/city/area)

But a phonecall from TheHell.  A pep talk.  And I went.  Drove to Starbucks.  Parked.  (turns out I drove past him and he recognized me right away which I think speaks to having good valid photos on my profile :P).  Got out of the car and started walking in.  I wore the magic dress.  I know most people said jeans and a cute shirt but shit son, it's summer and way too hot for long jeans (and that's all I have right now with not wanting to buy new clothes that soon wouldn't fit).  So it was super sunny.   Had my shades on.  And as I was walking across the parking lot.  And I just kind of sensed someone was watching me.


To Be Continued....

Biggest Loser Update: Week 10

Weeks Since the Summer of Boys Began: 10

Total "Somethings" Dated During the Summer of Boys: 3

Total "Somethings" Dated: 5

Total "Pounds" Shed During the Summer of Boys: 23

(This paragraph may be skipped for those that abhor a long read and/or are only interested in dating aspects of blog)
I want to quickly mention.  That I'm a bit disappointed.  With this weightloss.  Or should I say lack of more.  But while I realize that I'm falling well below my goal of 3-5 lbs. a week I also realize that my weightloss is relative to said goal.  Another example of this is my grades.  During my undergrad (BA - Psych) I accomplished astoundingly little (aside from actually obtaining my degree).  I was miserable.  I chose my major in a similar fashion to throwing a dart at a map.  I was lost.  I was not passionate.  I came out with something like a 62% average.  For a reference point.  That is so low that if I had ever left the program.  I wouldn't qualify to get back in lol.  But I passed.  I got my degree.  Now I'm back.  Working towards something (English Literature) that I have very little experience in (I never took past the required first year English) but hopefully more than enough passion for.  And this last year.  I set my sights very high.  I will need 78% just to qualify.  85% to be competitive.  90% to be really competitive.  95% to go to Harvard (that's a joke, I'm clearly not going to Harvard).  I didn't expect it would be easy.  I'm not even sure I expected to get anywhere near on my first try.  But this year I ended with a 82% average.  Fucking Amazing (for me).  But still.  A bit of a disappointment.  Because of where my goals lie.  And the weightloss.  Is kind of like that.  82% compared to the 62% I was pulling back in the day is fucking phenomenal.  Just like 23 lbs. in 10 weeks is.  But don't worry.  Not reaching my goals yet.  Won't keep me down.  It'll just get me working harder.  Time to step my game up.

(start reading here, for those that skipped)
So just a quick update on my journey towards BEING the biggest loser and subsequently my journey away from DATING the biggest losers.  I know I said I was going to take a break from online dating until I lost 25 lbs. but well...I changed my mind (stranger things have happened).  This decision was likely do to the following:

1.  I am feeling pretty darn svelte these days
2.  My desire to practice more so I don't let wildcards slip through my fingers
3.  It's been about 3-4 weeks since I left POF (just over 2 since I told you guys)
4.  Honestly, to help counteract the urge to meetup with Mega Love (which I'll be honest still hasn't officially been decided one way or the other)

So I'm 23 lbs. down and back on PlentyofFish.  Look out boys.  Mamma's coming to town.  And she's hungry.  It's only been about 3 days so I wouldn't have expected too much. 

There was the one guy who IM'd me.  We chatted aimlessly but amicably enough for about an hour.  Haven't heard from him since.  No huge loss.  The only reason he's even worth the mention is simply because I plan to mention him in the following post and so this is your little precursor  (take note). 

Next were the messages back and forth.  And back and forth.  With the.  Wait for it.  Wait for it.  21 year old.  Who actually told me he had balls.  Promising.  But has as of yet failed to use them.  But there's still potential.

Following him, we have messages back and forth between Trucker Joe* and I.  Numbers have been exchanged and mentions of coffee occured.  But I've learned not to put all the ball's in my mouth (not quite sure about that analogy but you get the gist...ya know...eggs...basket...counting) so I'll keep you posted.

And last but not least we have Mr. Clean*.  We're still only at the very most beginning point of messaging.  But frankly he's a babe.  He's seems fun.  So he earned himself a mention.  I'll keep you posted.


*Explanation of names and stats to follow in subsequent posts.

Dear Boys, Send Me Your Tired, Your Shirtless, Your Bathroom Photoed

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Send Me Your Tired, Your Shirtless, Your Bathroom Photoed.

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Weddings, Wagers and Wildcards

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Weddings, Wagers and Wildcards

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Mega Love: A Dilemma

So I should warn you right now.  This post.  It's not going to be funny.  Because it's about Mega Love.  And he's nothing like the "somethings".  He's the only boy I've ever loved.  Sure I've had other relationships.  But the feelings were never love.  Not like with Mega Love.  To be brief (because the advice I'm seeking is needed asap) here is a quick timeline of our relationship.  And by quick.  I mean relatively.  Because we all know I'm queen of the epic.

We met in January 2004. 
We were exclusive almost right away.
We broke up in October 2009.
(That's just under 6 years for those that want to skip the math)
We broke up because I couldn't take the long distance any longer (and may have just been unhappy with the relationship in general) and he wasn't 100% sure about marriage yet.
I've since realized it's likely I'll never get married and/or have babies (it's not really what I want out of life)
I don't really know his thoughts or feelings on the matter at current.
He wanted to be friends and have contact.
I did not (nor did I think I could handle it).
We essentially broke up over the phone. 
During Christmas break 2009, I went shopping in seattle.
We met up for an hour or so.
Had some much needed goodbye kisses and hugs.
I was in a good place.  I still thought we might get back together.  So did he.
In January he came up to Vancouver for work for a weekend.
We met up.  We had closure sex.  A couple of times. 
I only spent one night at the hotel.  It was hard to sleep.  The next night we just had sex and then I split.
(I don't think he was too happy about that).
For me, the closure weekend really was closure.
I no longer wanted to get back together.  I was happy we had split.  Things were good.
I have no idea how he felt about it.
I told him I would call after my exams in April.
Just before I leave for my friend's Vegas stagette, he emails to say he's coming up and do I want to hang out.
I'll be away at the stagette so I can't (whew for having an honest out).
When I return home and after writing my final final I send an email. 
Basically saying, I'm moving on.  Hope things are good.  I can't be friends.  etc.
He emailed back.  Clearly upset by the moving on bit.  Said that though he wasn't "moving on" that he was keeping his heart open and hoped that I would too (you never know who might come into your life) Acknowledging he figured I wouldn't be able to stay friends and thinking it was fine and probably best.  But he was finding it hard to come up to Canada and not think about me, and it would be weird to come up here and not let me know.
I said fine. 
We've had no contact since.

Skip to now.  I get back from my weekend of wedding festivities on the island and there's an email from Mega Love.  Telling me he'll be in town the 7th/8th (tomorrow) and also the 24th/25th.

And now I'm.  Well.  Uncertain.

Does this email need a response?  I'm thinking probably.  Is he just letting me know he'll be in town so that if I were to run into him at the mall I wouldn't be like "I can't believe you just showed up"?  Is he telling me because he wants to hang out (but leaving it in my court since I'm the one who has been...can't hang out...can't have contact...this whole time?  What is he hoping for?

And before you say well why don't you just email back and ask?

Because I don't know what my answer would be if it's anything other than him "just letting me know." 

I know I don't want to get back together.
I would love to have some wild and crazy sex.
I would not love to have sweet sex and/or make love.
I would not want to hear about him dating/dated/kissed/anything other girls.
I would love to have sex if I was able to convey to him exactly what I wanted and have him be okay with that.
I would not want to hang out/go to a movie/have dinner/have coffee/etc.
I would not want to hurt his feelings.
I would not want to get rejected.
I would not want to go back to that sad place right after we broke up, and again 2 weeks later when I realized we weren't going to be getting back together.
I would not want to lead him on.
I would like to get my freak on with someone I know isn't retarded.
I would like to get my freak on with someone who has ample equipment and skill/technique.


So here I am.  Asking for advice.  Pretty Please.  Don't worry though, I promise to take it with a grain of salt.

I'm Retarded and You're A Douche

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I'm Retarded and You're A Douche

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