Hey dearies,
I know, it has been WAY too long since I last posted. In all honesty, I am experiencing a horrible case of writer's block. Seriously. Who would've thought that I would EVER run out of things to say? It's not like there isn't anything going on up there, because trust me there is. My thoughts are just a huge jumbled mess.
Okay, I've got it. First dates. Look, I love going on first dates. Most people get nervous and take a little trip to crazytown, but it really isn't that bad. Meeting new people is always good. I think first daters fail to realize that this person they're FREAKING OUT over is most likely NOT their Romeo [or Juliet, whatever floats your boat]. So, doesn't it make more sense to just relax, and have a little fun? Heeere are a few of my most memorable first dates:
When I was fifteen, I was asked to the movies by this older guy, named P. We saw Chicken Little, I think. Since I worked at the movie theatre at the time, we ended up watching multiple movies and had a pretty good [somewhat awkward time]. After, we sat at this little table and talked for hours about EVERYTHING. Now let me tell you dear readers, people tend to feel comfortable around me. Sometimes too comfortable. I personally love it, but every so often I get in some sticky situations. So, P and I are chatting away and he suddenly goes "So, is there anything weird about you?", and I, always trying [but failing] to be the most hilarious person in the room, respond "Oh, yeah. I have a third nipple. Hahahahhaahhahaha just kidding. That would be gross". Nothing. No laughter from P. My ego bruised, I look up to see he hasn't even cracked a smile at my comedic genius. Then slowly, he raises his shirt to reveal...a third nipple. I dated P for about three months and we still talk every so often. He is a sweetheart even that first date got really weird really fast.
My friend L was seeing this guy Z. We were in high school at the time, so she insisted that I go out on a date with them [Z of course, would bring his friend P. A different P. Not nipple P]. I knew P from class and he drove me crazy. He was always loud, telling jokes that made NO sense. Anyway, the four of us saw a movie, walked around the mall, and had dinner. A seemingly normal first date. No, P was apparently nervous and did everything wrong! He kept leaving the dinner table to "adjust his hair". At one point, he exclaimed that he hated skinny girls [mind you, I was about 112lbs and 5'9 at the time]. Great. Way to make me feel amazing. Then he started to go on about how hot Victoria's Secret models are. I'm sorry, but last time I checked, they were skinny [Dont get me wrong here, I love the VS Models. I want have children with Alessandra Ambrosio]. Anyway, all throughout the evening he kept doing and saying the most obnoxious things on the planet. By the time we left, I never wanted to speak to the guy again. Here's the kicker, that night he called me apologizing [after hearing how disgusted I was by his behaviour]. P and I dated for two years. We had some serious life plans together, but we were younger than our relationship, so it didn't work out. He is still my best friend and I love him to bits.
I worked with R for about three months before I even looked at him "that" way. It was one of those things that sneakily built up over time, and I didn't even notice. R and my first date wasn't a like my other first dates. We didn't really go anywhere, but it counts since it was the first time we hung out, not as friends or as supervisor and supervisee. Yes. I was his supervisor. I hate saying that, because when I picture a supervisor, I imagine a fat bald man with a pocket protector and fifty year old beer belly [I have never had a supervisor that looks like this, so Lord knows where I get these images from]. He hated me at first, but I clearly blew him away with my witty humour and doube Ds. Just kidding. I have the chest of a seven year old boy. Anyway, I went over to his house to hang out and "watch a movie". Anybody who knows anything, knows that this is normally code for "make out in the basement". Funny thing is, we didn't do that. When I first got there, we found that his dog had pooped all over the carpeted basement. So, our first romatic moment together was actually spent cleaning diarreah with stain remover. Pfft. Who needs candles when you've got poop? I didn't mind though, it was funny and kind of helped kill any lingering awkwardness. We watched...oh dear God, what did we watch? Bruno? No. I think it was Four Christmases. Anyway, we sat there holding each other, the air charged with tension. When the movie was over, neither of us had made a move, but I had to leave because R had a family dinner to go to. We talked for a little bit and then finally, FINALLY he kissed me [I was beginning to wonder if he was even into me at that point]. Boom. Magic. R and I were together on and off for six months.
All my dating stories are kind of bad and hilarious, with pretty good endings [depending how you look at it]. Here's one that really made me feel special. I met A at the bar at work. He, some of his colleagues and I had a drink together and we exchanged numbers. About a week later he texted me and asked me if I would go out with him. I agreed, halfheartedly. You see, my ex and I had just broken up, but still cared for each other [and in all honesty, were still practically dating]. The morning of my date with A, I planned on cancelling. It just didn't seem right for me to deny how i really felt about my ex. Then, the ex texts me and informs me that he had slept with a highschooler during one of our "breaks". Now reader, I had never been cheated on [and TECHNICALLY wasn't cheated on this time]. The deception I felt was horrible. Imagining him kissing and holding another girl made me sick to my stomach, and almost made me feel worthless. Since crying in the fetal position messes with my hair, I decided to keep myself occupied and go out with A anyway. We determined that I would meet him where he was staying [did I mention he was an Australian, in town on business?]. I showed up about ten minutes early, and the poor guy wasn't even ready for me. [On the night we had first met, I had complained that I loved hiking and there really wasn't much room for that in Toronto.] When I walked into his room, he had his laptop open and his game face on. He had spent some time researching hiking spots. I thought it was cute that he had remembered what I said, and had taken it into acount. Since I had to work later that day, we ended up just walking along the lakeshore. We bought coffe and drank it while dangling our feet off the rocks at the waters edge. It was simple, romantic, and real. A went back to Australia, but we're still good friends and talk almost everyday.
Wow, so much for writers block. Guess I just have many stories to tell. All the guys I've dated have impacted my life in some way or another Even if I lose contact with some of them, I will always appreciate and love them for the experiences we shared together. I've never understood how people could genuinely hate their exes. I mean, sure you might've been hurt, but you cared about the person at one point, so they can't be all bad. Right?
Stay sexy, readers.
LoveLoveLove You,
Gouda
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