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Sealed with a Kiss (& Tell)

And that’s all she wrote…

For now! Just for now! Just until the next unlucky sod crosses my path. I know, leading a life of positivity isn’t my greatest attraction. Who knows what is. I certainly don’t! If you find one, will you let me know?

13 posts. Let’s reminisce shall we? An entire dating site of potential mates, narrowed down to 3 boys willing to talk, and meet with me, down to the last guy, whom for what reason now I can’t remember, let kiss me. It’s been a ride!

While I still believe in ‘the one’, and dream of a life where I live with that kind of love in a partnership, what this blog has ended up teaching me is NOT about the importance of romance and relationships, but about how YOU as a person are the deciding factor in your love life – and ultimately, I think the big lesson is that you have to love yourself. I’m not there yet…not yet, but I am more comfortable within myself and within the space of my doubts knowing that I’ve at least stepped into the pool. I’ve seen some of what goes on in the alien landscape of love. And it’s my choice whether or not to drink the Kool-Aid. I’m on way too many medications to drink, so maybe it means passing up on a few ‘could be’s’. Taking care of ME is a full time position, and when I figure out how to do that, I’ll let someone else have a go at taking care of me.

As it hangs in the space of the vast ‘interwebs’, I hope my blog stands as sign to other unhopefuls or feeling unhopefuls that it is totally possible to start from zero, no matter your age or your background. There WILL be someone out there for you to test the waters with and to date, even if you ultimately decide that’s not what you want.

So in her true form, Wigless Wonder Woman below will give you her 3 minute make of all this mess & encourage you to add YOUR mess to the universe, hoping that somewhere you’ll make a match out of the mess. For me, that mess is brain surgery, bipolar, Type A & stubborn as heck. Yours may be different, but you’ll fall for a mess just like they’ll fall for yours. A Messily Ever After.

I’ll see you soon – I’ve fallen in love with you all. XOXO, Molly

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No Spooning Allowed

My first date was October 10, 2017 and it looks like my last date might be November 25, 2017. No, not because I found ‘the one’ or anything like that, but because with this date, I think I might be done with the whole thing. Three guys, a total of four dates, and I’ve completed every one of my objectives, except for the part where I find a guy and fall in love. Or at least like. AT LEAST! Is that asking too much?

Yeah, it happened. And it happened, and it happened, and it happened. If I had any concerns over whether or not I’m a good kisser, the ridiculous succession of kisses ‘laid on me’ by this last guy was enough to convince me I MUST be doing something right. Yay?

It.was.awful. Just horrible. Disgusting and wet and slimy and like he was chewing on my face and trying to swallow my tongue. It’s my tongue, you can’t have it! My mouth was actually DRY after. He had sucked all the saliva out of it!

But to backtrack. Here’s how the evening went. First of all, he texted to say he’d be a half hour late, and then texted again to say he’d be even later, which he was. Finally at 7:45pm he showed up, in a fleece polo and jeans. Which was fine for the pub-esque venue we were at, but in a black sweater, white flared skirt and thigh-high black suede boots all made up, I felt a little overdone.

He sent the waitress away three times, neglecting his menu an had to be prompted by me to actually look at it nearly a half hour into the date. Then he grilled her on salad dressing choices. He didn’t want to pay extra for Caesar salad so he ordered the house salad…with Caesar dressing.

Then there was the conversation. And admittedly, yes, this was the best conversation out of the three, but it was also tricky and slightly condescending. He kept telling me what I SHOULD think and SHOULD do. I mentioned that I was trying to do more strength training at the gym during the winter months because I couldn’t run outside and he told me that I should really be lifting weights directly and not doing other exercises or using machines. Umm, dude, you’re kind of scrawny to begin with, what are you telling me about how to work out?

THEN! Oh, and this gets good. I had mentioned in our text correspondence that I could balance a spoon on my nose. He INSISTED I do this at the dinner table, goaded me by saying if I was too embarassed that he would ask for a spoon from the kitchen himself, AND THEN told the waitress that I didn’t like eating with forks so to bring a spoon as well. THEN, when the spoon didn’t ‘stick’ because it was too heavy and shallow, he teased me, mockingly, saying I was a ‘real disappointment’ and had to make it up to him. Yeah, a real winner.

The evening continued its downward trajectory as he continued to belittle every other thing I said and challenge me on certain points.

He asked if I want to play pool and I had to stop myself from screaming ‘NO’ at the top of my lungs. He took forever to eat his food, and THEN took me up on my offer to pay my half. And it’s not that I mind paying, I do consider myself a feminist, BUT I’m also a little old-fashioned and appreciate a good show of chivalry – and he obviously thought he was so charming.

He also talked about it being easier to go home with a girl, whose parents weren’t conservative and didn’t mind having strangers over in the daughter’s bedroom having sex. Forget about my parents, I’M that conservative. Yeesh.

After he had continued to drone on so that the credit card machine timed out and he blamed the waitress (I tipped her like 40%), he led me to the pool room saying he would test my coordination, which I had claimed was awful.

While he was in the bathroom, I texted my sister to come pick me up in 20 minutes. I was going to give the guy a chance, after all, isn’t that the cliche cheesy thing to do with a girl on a date? ‘Teach’ me how to play pool so he could put his arms around me? But before he could even do that, he told me he was going to test my ‘coordination’ at kissing and came at me.

I accepted. What could I do? There was no way out, and I was still trying to be a good sport. I think maybe I like being ‘cold’ and a snob better. Actually, I’m sure of it. As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, it was awful. He kind of closed his lips over mine and slid them together before probing his tongue into my mouth. My eyes were open, WIDE open, the entire time. I did NOT want to be in the moment. I wanted to be anywhere BUT the moment. I kind of tried to do what he was doing and move my lips and tongue in a similar fashion but it went on FOREVER. Finally, FINALLY, I broke it off and asked him how my ‘coordination’ was, and that he needed to hurry up and teach me pool before I had to go. Such a coquette. He kept ‘sweeping’ me up, and grabbing my waist.

At one point he even cupped my face and asked me if I knew that my eyes were the same colour as my hair. First of all…its a wig. Second of all, my eyes are hazel and heterochromic, meaning they’re green in the middle. So my hair is green? Gee thanks.

He was NOT great at pool. And having never played it more than once, he only beat me by a point – and that was with me not even trying to play seriously.

My dad ended up being the one to pick me up, and his parting words to me? ‘It’s a shame its not your sister, I guess there’s not going to be a goodbye makeout sesh. SESH? SESH?? You bet your ass there isn’t going to be a goodbye makeout sesh. Thank God it was my father, who looked homeless as he was wearing car-repairing clothes and is growing out his beard for Movember, which makes him look completely homeless and shady.

Ewww. I rolled down the car window once we were gone and spit out of it. There were sandwich crumbs in my mouth and I wasn’t the one who ordered a sandwich.

So…first kiss experience was a bit of a nightmare, but what else should I expect given how fabulously everything else has gone?

There’s a post-date video blurb below that gives you the immediate aftermath details. I warn you, it gets ugly.

But you want to know the real kicker? HE HASN’T EVEN CALLED! Nothing, two and a half days later. NADA. You think after everything that he got out of the date, he’d be MORE than eager to continue. Was it that I was easy? That I let him kiss me on a first date? Honestly, I feel a little roughly treated. And my mouth is still sore from the sting of Listerine in a mouth scrubbed raw. I’ve also felt dizzy, achy and nauseous since then so I think I might have picked something up. The way I feel, it might as well be an STD.

The next day I went to two church Christmas sales, so I drowned my sorrows in an entire carrot cake and about 5 lbs. of shortbread. At this rate, I’ll just pity-eat all the weight back and then I won’t need to worry about guys wanting to kiss me. How do I groan dramatically through a keyboard.

But, now I’ve been on a date. Now I’ve been kissed…Now I can begin my life of spinsterdom. It has never felt so good to stay in on a weekend night, alone in my pajamas with a plate of shortbread at my side. I think it might be love.

UPDATE: He texted back…and he mentioned the spoon trick again. Now where oh where am I thinking of putting that spoon?
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Bye, Bye, Brad

 

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For all my agonizing, I got a whole 3 characters in response. Nice! What to think…
Maybe a shorter note next time? Oh well, practice makes perfect, right?


If you read my last post, you’ll understand when I say that waffles make parting such sweet sorrow. And this was no different. It’s also probably a questionable action when the girls jumps in to say she’ll handle the cheque. That, that right there is called guilt.
BOOM, you’re over.

At least this time I got close to kissing. Lip to cheek contact is half the battle right?

This was actually a really hard text to write, and I put it off for a day and a half. Not to be cruel, but because I just wasn’t sure. He’s a nice guy (kind of), and he’s not bad looking persay, it’s just that on a deep personal level I know we aren’t compatible based on the conversations we’ve had.

When he talks about his job, he sounds so indifferent. Like he does what he’s supposed to and nothing more, maybe even less. He was talking about training and re-certifying, which he has to do every 2 years, and he made it sound like a joke. Now I just had to renew my CPR for a volunteer position and I know I felt like that was a bit of a joke at times – but ultimately, I listened because what I was hearing could concern a person’s life. For a corrections officer, I can only imagine scenarios that require first-aid or safety training happen 100x more often. From the way he spoke, he just sounded as though he didn’t care and talked about real situations that had happened where he just stood back away from the action, only to use it later as what he found a ‘funny’ story. I’m not laughing.

I’m the kind of person who when she starts a job, or was a student in school, I did my best to get a ‘gold star’ on my homework. I was always the achiever, the nerd and teacher’s pet and I think I need someone who has that sense of ambition and drive, because that nerdiness for me translated into a hard-working young woman who wants all the information she can get and uses it to make things better or more efficient. Whoever I date or marry doesn’t have to have a high ranking job in business or finance. He could be a plumber or a Wall Street whiz kid as long as he works hard and always tries to do better – at least 90% of the time because I too will admit to checking my personal email or my Facebook account at work when it was slow. But even when talking about his hockey team, he doesn’t sound passionate, and he admits to sitting back and not trying when he thinks failure is inevitable. I need someone who will stand alongside me doing everything necessary to make things better on a personal and a humanitarian level.

So now we know. Ambition and drive are on the necessary qualities list.

But now I’m done blaming Brad, and I want to move on to myself. The reason it took so long to break it off with Brad (unlike David, where I literally texted him on the way home) was because I wasn’t sure if there was something wrong with myself. And I wanted to do a little self-searching in case I was making a mistake cutting it off after the second date.

I know I can be bossy, can come across too intense or passionate about things/people/topics I care about. And I know I have a certain fear of commitment so I had to make sure this wasn’t just a knee-jerk emotional reaction to run before things got serious (because yes, to me, a third date would tip the ‘relationship’ into a serious thing for me because of the reasons above).

So here’s where the secret comes in…

I did something you prooooobably shouldn’t do on your dates.

I recorded it.

Not through video, only audio so that no one would ever know it was him in case it ever became leaked before I could delete. But I didn’t do it to trip him up in any way, I wanted to study my own behaviour and responses on the date. If I did or said anything ‘wrong’ that would cause me to write off the relationship because I had somehow tanked it, subconsciously or otherwise.

So I listened to the first 45 minutes of our date (before my phone died and stopped recording, and I listened to the things he said and my reactions or responses. I listened to see if I interrupted, or spoke over him, or tried to lead where I should defer (this crosses boundaries with my beliefs on women’s rights an social stereotypes on how a woman should act on a date, but that’s another post for another time.

So I listened. And other than realizing that my fake laugh sounds awful to myself (although apparently not to others because I’ve actually been complimented multiple times on my laugh, and in suffering from depression, real true laughter from myself is rare so I know its referring to the fake version), I couldn’t find anything wrong. I could hear when the conversation stalled slightly, so in desperation I started talking about the possible leak in the roof, and I heard when I embellished or changed the truth slightly so that I could use the memory in conversation. But I didn’t hear a single thing that would change my mind about Brad.

The real problem is. I WANT A THIRD DATE! I just don’t want it with him. I’ve worked so hard (yes, hard, because dating and socializing like this is hard for me) and I don’t want all that effort and banter and smiles and outfit choices to go to waste!

I don’t want to start at square one.

But at the same time, I know I can’t lead Brad on. It’s not fair. He’s 28 and is probably looking for something serious, which I can’t give him. I can actually see us dating for several months, but ultimately, I know it’s not going anywhere.

But this also means I’m sliding backwards down a slope, even if I’m not meant to be on that particular slope, and that feels like failure to me. I had a goal of being kissed, of finding someone who I wanted to run to instead of away from. Now I just feel like I’m running in circles, and there’s only one person out there who can straighten me out. Or in my sister’s words, ‘chill me out’. I just wish I could find him.

Someday my prince will come…but it seems like he has a terrible sense of direction.