Monthly Archives: November 2013

Over 100 different apps

Okay, the list of choices are endless. You HIV positive? There’s a dating app for you. Gay, straight, bi, tri, old, young, jewish, christian, black, asian, wasp, in a specific city, there is likely a specially tailored dating app for you. In the last couple weeks I have expanded outside of the POF to a Tinder, the 22 year old told me about it, but it wasn’t until the cute guy from the gym said something I looked into it. It’s linked to your Facebook, shows 1-5 pictures, any mutual friends or interests. You can set your parameters for age and geographical location. After that, load up your own pictures, and let the magic happen. You simply check a box, X for nope, ❤ for yes. If the other person also clicks a <3, bingo bango you have a match, and you can,at this point send messages. If one of you X’s they are gone forever.

Basically it is like playing a game. Or, I akin it to picking up in a bar, but from the comfort of your Onesie at home. You are judging and making decisions based entirely on a photograph. Not that POF is miles deeper…
There are a few instances where similar friends will discourage me from clicking the heart. Terrible? Maybe. It’s all judging, but may prompt me to clean up my facebook friend list.

I have seen 3 different guys that I have been on a date with on there, nice guy, caramel latte, and snap chat. I liked caramel latte as we had talked about it, but the other two I x-ed. Why wouldn’t I just text them instead of chatting on an app? The down side of course is it seems to be more of a hook-up feel. As well there are only a certain number of people in town on the app… so… lots of matches to start, petering out. Caramel latte said that my match was the first one he had in months. Like POF, the more you play the more matches you’ll get. If you have x’ed or ❤ all of the users in your area, it pops up with a little message. Not exactly but something like, "you have exhausted all of your resources" That is a sad thought…

Another App I perused with Karma last week was LULU. I was made aware of the app by one of my dates, the unicorn e-mailed me with horror. Another link to facebook app, where women can rate their dates anonymously. There are a series of questions and a secret algorithm to come up with a number out of 10. No one I knew had been rated. As a man, you can request to be removed, you can add your own #'s and the good old, throw the curve by getting girl friends to rate you. As a viewer you can also chime in if you think the girl who reviewed is spot on, or out to lunch. It's the kind of petty "slam book" type activities girls have been doing to each other since the dawn of modern society. Now we can do it to men! Hello progress!! It was designed to give women power in the dating scene, a man behaves badly and he can be punished, not just by you, but thousands of other women too. It does have a role, I'm sure it could deter some creep behaviour, just like any means of accountability usually does. Unfortunately the emotional and mental maturity/health of either party is not assessed in the hash-tagging process.

It's all very interesting, the degradation of society? You don't even have to go to a bar to hook up? Or bad mouth a bad date, you can do it anonymously, in your PJ's while watching TV. Or while blogging at Starbys.

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Snap Chat, the date.

I went on a date with snapchat, He alternated between sending me pictures of himself and texting me, sent me a picture of a book we had chatted about, and of course a couple hand drawn hearts. Aweeee… Surprisingly, I did not get a single picture of his junk as I thought I would.
We met up for a drink monday night. He is cute. Not terribly tall, but dark, dimples, a days beard growth, great teeth, a resting bicep line peeking out of the sleeve of his t-shirt. Beautiful man. Fairly mature for his age? Conversational at least. Smart, not outrageously funny, but could have just been the awkward first meet. He is a Nurse, coaches sports. Unfortunately, he is 27, still lives with his parents. I’m just jealous my parents encouraged me to move out. He claims his asked him to move home. Apparently they are away often, so it works for them to have him live at home. We chatted, knew a couple of the same people, it was an entertaining way to spend a couple hours, and he was easy to look at. He assured me, I wasn’t too old for him, just a little more experienced. Only a couple years really. As I was leaving he gave me a kiss, a hold the back of my head at the nape of my neck kiss, a windy afternoon movie type kiss. I was impressed by his boldness. Then amazed that such a blatant disregard for my personal space wasn’t irritating. Maybe because he was so pretty. He pressed his chest against mine, like in a paperback romance novel, and I think I felt his 6pack abs under his T-shirt and open jacket. What do you say after that? Nice to meet you? The only thing I could think of was “call me maybe” And his reply was “maybe?” I laughed and got into my car.
I didn’t hear from him right after the date, or the next morning, I am totally spoiled by immediate date validations. I told one of my fave reps I didn’t think I would hear from him. He wanted to bet me that I would. That’s a good friend! I didn’t make that bet and it’s a good thing, as snap chat sent me a text a few hours later claiming the night was “awesome”. Validation! Even if I don’t see him again, it is comforting to have a beautiful young man tell you your company is awesome. Maybe he will snap chat me a pic of those abs…

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21 day challenge

Caramel latte, who is indeed a real person, has shared with me his collection of guided meditation series put on by the Depak Chopra centre. At this point, if I were to walk away from him, he has enlightened me in the following ways, renewed my love of reading and photography, reminded me of my love of cooking, and inspired me to cook for myself. Made me feel smart and sexy, enriched the last few weeks with light, laughter and some pretty great sex. All good things. Erroneous, as I was telling you about my recently started undertaking of a 21 day challenge. 15-20 min of guided meditation for the next 3 weeks. I have decided to undertake As my first session Love. Living in love. In true maniac fashion, I did 30 min today instead of 15. Life’s most powerful tool, and freedom from the past.
Sundays are still a day I struggle, I miss my ex? I feel it’s a family day, and my family is removed? I’m not sure 100% why, maybe a guilt at not attending church? It’s a day I have to dedicate to self love to get thru. I slept in the sunshine today, watching community and cleaning off my PVR, I stayed cozy under my comforter until 2 pm. Un heard of for me. At 2 I dressed and headed into the afternoon sunshine. A breathtakingly beautiful day I walked for 30 min, briskly to get in my daily cardio, and then stood over the channel watching birds fight and water flow. I meditated with eyes open, And tried not to notice how odd it is to simultaneously listen to a stream babble and birds chirp in your headphones, while there is in fact a real stream, and birds in front of you that you are shutting out. There was no one playing the pan flute on the bridge with me though. That is where the difference lies, obviously.
Other things I notice, I cried today, I obviously need more love, in my self, and created space. I feel like the fear of loneliness or disappointment does nothing but fill the space with worry. Meditation, silence is frightening, real effort to keep your thoughts from creeping in. So much effort that I find I sweat. The noted breathing between sniffles was building a fire within me. I was nearly ready to start undressing on the bridge. And entirely different show for the golfers, a crying girl undressing on a bridge. I could have ended up with a valid reason for missing work tomorrow. As well as a government funded hospital stay. I feel better after my meditation, With 15 min meditating and 30 min cardio, I’m nearly to an hour daily dedicated to me. It will take dedication, spending time on myself like this is un comfortable.


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Snap chat? snap chat… sigh.

I was on POF earlier this week. For the first time in a couple of weeks, cleaning up and returning messages. I had a message from a cute guy. Super cute, tall, dark, I seem to be into those caramel fellows lately, maybe because caramel latte has been such a great find, I’m conditioned to love the caramel. Caramel brûlée lattes are my season fave starbys, half sweet of course. Perhaps Abed from community has also fed my caramel crush. Although having a lady boner for the tall dark handsome types is not new, My ex was all those things. Any how… message from this cute guy, I was interested, made a quick scan of his profile, 27. Well, shit. I responded I was flattered, too old for him, but he was super cute (dimples…yes please). He responded immediately with WHO decided I was too old? Um.. society as a whole? Maybe he was a mature 27. I’ve met a few of those. He asked for my number because he noticed I’m not online often. He seemed harmless and I gave him my cell. We texted a couple hours, before the gym and after, he seems like a great guy, but so very young. We have an opposite work schedule, him nights and weekends, my week days, but there are a few hours in the evening we can text. We have a few things in common, and age is just a number… right? There are a few obvious differences of course, As I was headed to bed last night he wanted me to add him on snapchat. For those of you who don’t know, it is a sort of picture messaging system that erases the picture sent in 1-10 seconds. Ideally of course, people have found a way to keep those pictures sent and not ment to be kept. The obvious use for this app is explicit pictures. Dick picks that automatically erase themselves? That will put a damper on my extensive collection. Cherise and I were joking just the previous weekend that we had face timed, and what was next? Snap chat? All the cool kids were doing it. We were, of course, joking. We just barely have a handle on hashtags, and primarily because of Jimmy Fallon and Justin Timberlake making fun. But here I am on a tuesday night, this young man doesn’t want to ichat photos, snapchat. I will get dick pictures from him. My cockshot senses are tingling. I wish I had a better super power.
This morning I downloaded snap chat. And so far this guy has made it into my “best friends” category. He has sent me 2 pictures, one of that pretty face, dimples and all. He has nice teeth, I noticed in the 6 seconds I had to view the picture. The next one had a caption that said “best part of getting home, getting naked” But the pic was shoulders up. Funny I didn’t notice his dimples as much… haha. I’m going to send him back a picture of a cat, or a flower. Perhaps a majestic sunset. Oh… no my onesie. But that thing is possibly the sexiest thing I own. I am a jerk. I wanted to talk about the blue tooth and GPS instant dating scene, all the cool kids are doing that too… Tinder, scruff (which appeals to me but is for gay men), and a variety of other instant apps. Unfortunately my laptop battery is about to die, so another day. My bet is it isn’t likely to bring up the average age of men I date. Sadly.

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The ebb and flow of friendship

I am a collector of amazing people. I make friends fairly easily I think. But keeping them, that’s the tricky part. I don’t remember where I heard it, but I have alway believed that people need others in their lives at different times, for different reasons. A friendship that stands the test of time isn’t all intersections or a parallel line. I have been skilled enough to keep relationships for decades, lasting thru schools, geographical distances, boyfriends/girlfriends, marriage, husbands/wives, kids, careers, and deaths (of loved ones, not the primary friend, unfortunately not a medium). Each one of these incredible people, have been there for me at one time or another, and I have been able to reciprocate. Now of course our relationships haven’t had a steady intensity, they have risen and fallen. Not everyone was there for me when I had my breakdown, they were involved in their own lives, marriage problems, a new baby, a move and career change. Comparatively I wasn’t in a place where I could be there for them. life is not a straight line, wavering, stalling, sometimes it shoots off quickly and other times it crawls. Any of these people I haven’t talked to for a few weeks, or months, some even years, do I love them any less? Absolutely not. They, each one of the people that have come into my life at one time or another have shaped me into who I am today. And I like the person I have become. Recently a long lime friend lost her Dad. He was diagnosed with cancer in the spring, and fought a hard and fast battle. Vicious Cancer overpowered him by fall. She and I were close, we spent day after day together, went out all the time, were accused of being “twins” not because we looked anything alike but because a few times we dressed the same. Exactly the same. Accidentally of course. She would come home from school and we would kick around all summer, many adventures to be had, pranks pulled, stuff stolen. I went to visit her at school, we wrote letters, and emails, and made phone calls. In the 90’s/ early 2000’s we used our text devices to make voice calls, so crazy… I know.
A few months after my ex and I broke up, she and another long time friend got married, within a month of each other, and just a couple months after my ex moved his stuff out. I was a catastrophe. Sad, fat, and heartbroken. Completely depressed as well, but still in denial about that. I was honoured to be in the wedding parties of both events, public speaking usually my thing, was a daunting undertaking. At this point I cried every day. Every single day. I was not too far off from the “wedding singer” after his cancelled wedding singing love sucks and sniffling into my sleeve. In addition to the sad, the fat, I was horrified that I would be photographed at over 200lbs. My body seemed like it wasn’t mine. I was in a fat suit with the zipper stuck. (I was stressed-cortisol, depressed, and suffering a major hormone imbalance). I sucked it up, I went thru the motions, but I didn’t put together the photos I wanted to, or fully experience the joy I should have for them. I simply wasn’t capable. I felt I failed them.
I am aware now of my raging codependency, and the need to be compassionate to myself primarily. Both things that you could have printed on a metal pipe, and beaned me up side the head, and I still wouldn’t have been able to grasp the concepts. While at the celebration of life for my friends dad, I managed to put my foot in my mouth, I said something thoughtlessly, minimizing her immense loss. Not sure why, as I feel her loss, the thought makes me well with tears now, weeks later. An almost immediate desire to clamp my hand over my mouth struck me, and she laughed it off. What the eff is wrong with me? As I was leaving she said she was sorry we haven’t spent much time lately. Afraid of blurting out something to be misconstrued I simply told her not to worry about it.
What I wanted to say was that I loved her, and would continue to love her regardless of time and distance. I wanted to tell her that our relationship was always going to flow, as a trickling stream or a raging river, and that I would show up anytime day of the night if she needed me, and I could. I wanted to hug her and tell her that I am who I am today because of her love, and time, things that cannot be measured or bought. I wanted to tell her that I will alway root for her happiness and success wether on the side lines or watching on cable, or in the game. The only thing I could think of at the time was that she didn’t need me right now. Which sounded so petty and small. So instead I kept my mouth shut.
I believe that you need different people in your life at different times and for different reasons. I appreciate that as needs evolve and change, so do the people around you. I am thankful for all of my friends old and new, wether we talk every day, or once a year, I know whatever state we are in it will change. And I love that.

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Self Censored

I have been suffering. Writers block. I open up my device, with a handful of potential topics, dates, books, theories, feelings I truly need to write. But I will open up the app, and just stare at my screen. Then I’ll wander off and check facebook, my e-mail, text someone. Decide I’m hungry or tired or just generally un creative. The honest to god truth, my readership has gotten away with my inspiration. I find that I edit myself, and have been contemplating who is reading. I have managed to say the wrong thing at the wrong time to a couple loved ones, been lacking the eloquence of speech I once demonstrated. I started a piece on the ebb and flow of friendship over time, but I am paralyzed with fear of saying the wrong thing, again. I want to write about the time I spend with Caramel latte, but ultimately feel foolish, I know he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend, and altho I enjoy time spent with him, he isn’t meeting all of my needs, and is perhaps wasting my time. I have stopped taking applicants for the position of boyfriend, as he has temporarily filled that spot. But that is just it. temporary, he doesn’t want the permanent posting. At least, he didn’t, and I haven’t asked lately. I am afraid of the answer I’ll get.
I have been eating like crap. So much sugar, and bread, and milk. Undoing months of clean eating. The gym has been sporadic at best. My clothes feel tight, and I’m missing the self satisfaction of sweat.
Is it the full moon tonight making me crazy? The lack of outlet in the writing? Being out of my homeopathic remedies? Maybe all of the above. I was content last week, content without any hint of mania. I was feeling adored, and sexy, intelligent. Work is great, feeling like I have truly completed tasks. Was I ignoring the ache I feel today? Have I been fooling myself into false security? Have I lost sight of what I want?
I had a breakfast date with cute boy from the gym this morning. He said “people who don’t know what they want are dumb.” I had to laugh. I don’t know what I want right now? I have a general outline, but… no, I have regressed to a dot-to-dot. I could have a blocky picture of what I want if I could connect the dots. Its an interesting spectrum I have been in romantically. One one end I have the cute boy from the gym, who makes me feel adored, and attractive, but without a hint of sexual objectification. He likes me independent of my lady parts, on an intellectual and emotional level. He is a friend. On the far opposite end the 22 year old still is texting me at least a couple times a week, some weeks, daily. He has no interest on my emotional or mental contributions, he merely sees me as a magical vagina. Most likely his intense desire to have me is from repeatedly declining his advances. I am a sexual object to him. I have Caramel latte in the middle, we have intellectual discussions, we exchange books, documentaries, we have a similar sense of sexy, similar sense of humour, similar values, interests, cooking styles. We have either intellectually or sexually charged conversations. The sex is frighteningly hot. I worry that it is an unsustainable level of hot. I have continually judged this man, and drawn lines around him. Pigeon holing him into my perceived and previous examples of (failed) relationships. I enjoy spending my time with him, until I know what I want, it’s something I would like to continue. Once I know what I want, it would be fair to ask him if he was interested in being that, instead of assuming that he was not capable or willing. Yes. Okay.
Even now the thought of posting this for public consumption is frightening. I write about eating disorders, depression, post terribly unflattering pictures of my self with minimal hesitation, but this…? I have misplaced my brash bravery. Haha. I will go home and read, wait out the full moon and commit to 30 min of cardio daily for the next 2 weeks. Refill my homeopathics for tuesday. Maybe have a good cry, something I haven’t done in months. And blog more, without censorship, for me. I need to do it for me.

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I need

I need to write. I need to dedicate some time, I had a date today, one a couple weeks ago, and plenty of subject matter to blog. I just haven’t put aside the time to write. I have been reading more, and spending time cooking. I am happy. Really content, and I think doing a fine job of living in the now, for the most part. I have spent a fair bit of time with caramel latte, but it is still far from serious. I am looking forward to maybe seeing the cute boy from the gym the next couple weekends, as he will be in town. I will rekindle my writing passion, it keeps me sane long term, but know right now, I am amazing, content, happy without mania. and with a stack of great reading material.


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old man time

I have been neglecting my blog. I have a date from last week I still haven’t written, dammit… I am not sure what exactly I have been spending my time doing, driving I think, trips to vernon and kelowna, use up 2-4 hours of my time. Time that could be spent, at the gym, or blogging. I need a chauffeur, then I could write in the car!
I was a dating maniac when I met Goldylocks, 7 dates in 6 days with 6 different men. Plus the list of men I was chatting with online and via the various dating websites I was on. There was one man who had corresponded with e-mail. He worked out of town, and we emailed for well over a month. When I decided to stick with Goldy for a while, I told all the other boys I was seeing someone. Old man time disappeared, until about a month ago.
Remember I had next to no screening requirements for my 30 dates, anyone expressing interest, got a date. The only thing I remembered about this guy: he liked to dance, was close to his family, and was older…
We exchanged e-mails, and a couple texts, seemed like a nice enough guy, really keen on taking me out, and he had patiently waited for more than 10 months. We decided that tonight would work, and I would meet him for dinner. A lovely evening out at a local italian restaurant. I asked for a picture since I had no idea what this guy looked like, and my suspicions were confirmed… older.
Old man time has lived an interesting life, as a navel officer, workaholic, homeless, world traveler, married a handful of times, has 2 beautiful children, a boy and a girl, and grandchildren. His daughter has a 7 and 3 year old. I went out for dinner tonight with a grandpa. I’m surprised he didn’t tease me and catch my nose. Maybe he should have shared the liquorice all sorts and bridge mix he keeps in his coat. I love both those candies. Joking aside, his daughter, 29, his son, 25. So being my dad, wouldn’t have been the biggest stretch.
I asked a couple questions, and he sprung into regaling me with stories. I’m amazed the poor guy got thru his dinner as he talked non stop. He did have good stories to tell… I excused myself at one point to seek refuge in the quietness of the can, and realized while texting caramel latte and getting ready for the date, I was wearing my panties inside out. Yay me.
We had a lovely meal including tiramisu, I met someone new, but the love of my life? No. Sexual chemistry? Nope. I asked one of my guy friends post date what a 51 year old man figured he could do with me? Honestly? His reply “Have hot dirty uninhibited anal sex, that lasts for 3 min after a keg dinner.” Well there is no keg in Pen, but he did take me for prime rib… so maybe. No thank you.

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